It occurs to me that blogging is really good at capturing some emotions, and not quite as good at capturing others. Joy is one of the ones it�s harder to pin down afterwards � it�s like sticking a pin through a captive butterfly and wondering why it isn�t as beautiful as when it was fluttering crookedly in the sunlight. I would like to go on record here as saying that there was a point yesterday afternoon when we had some extra time and our actors still there, so we told them they were now wolves and not the family, and we took the Jam Song and I scribbled down some new wolfish lyrics for the verses listing several things that wolves can do with jam, and then our actors (Paul and Calum and Ian and Heather and Cora) started to sing it, all of them deciding that wolves ought to sound more or less like Tom Waits, that I found myself laughing like mad with the pure unholy joy of knowing that it all worked and that it was, if only for a you-had-to-be-there-moment, one of the funniest things I�d ever seen. Happy.
There�s a lot to write and make and do before it�s a whole play, and most of it will be done by other people. But I can�t wait until it�s done.
And I really have to write something original for the stage.