I’m trying to get organised for the month ahead for 28 Plays Later. I’m writing this blog post now because I know what’s coming. Oh, my God! That sounds like something out of a horror novel. My time is short, so I write this to you now. Knowing that soon it will be too late.
I titled this ‘Playwriting Retreat’, but it is more of a self-imposed playwriting lockdown to be precise. I’m not going anywhere. No villa overlooking an olive grove in Italy. No sitting on a balcony overlooking a coastal town in Portugal. Not that I ever do, but one can dream.
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