The last few weeks, I’ve been trapped indoors writing. Applying to fellowships and screenplay competitions. Very few of these moments have felt creative. I look forward to the prospect of this drudgery turning into something magnificent. I imagine getting away to some starry skies, cooler weather and wind that whispers through the trees. It would be a welcome reward.

It should be noted that today, as I panic to wipe up the spilled wine that is creeping towards my computer only to realize I’ve been sitting on the floor in dried cat vomit, I hope things will get better. But it’s Friday the 13th and the superstitious part of me knows that is not likely going to happen. So for now, back into the boring filth I go.