Title of Play

I am debating whether or not to enter a play writing contest that my local theatre is having. Best case, I win 100 dollars. Worst case, I don’t get selected for the finals but some 3rd grader beats me out and my ego is horribly bruised and I never publish another blog ever.
Okay. Maybe that was a tad dramatic but you understand my hesitation. It also comes from the fact that I have been trying to put together my thoughts and memories into a play for YEARS and cannot get them all into an order or even pin point a starting place. I realize that this is exactly the point of play writing classes. And I probably should attend one at some point in my life. But I get frustrated with myself so quickly that I have a hard time not throwing my hands up and walking away. I have to have drive to overcome what ever the conflict is to make it happen. And I know what part of the issue is.
When it comes to the play about my life, I feel like there are things that cannot be said. I feel like there are memories that are not just mine that I would not be allowed to share because they are not solely mine. I could ask permission, but then I would be bringing up things that happened in a not so pleasant past. Not to say that all of my memories are unpleasant, but no one needs permission to disclose happy memories. The world loves happy memories.
Never the less, I hope I can overcome my desire to protect my ego and at least try to write something. If I fail, then I toss it and I try again next year. Maybe that will be the thing that drives me to take a class. I can see it now. When the teacher ask “Why did you decide to take this class?” I can say, “Because I wanted to write a play that was better than a 3rd graders.”
Keeping it classy.

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