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...and another eight pages yesterday, before I skipped off in the evening to watch Nederlands Dans Theater 2 being young and wonderful. Sometimes I think I love being danced to almost as much as I love being sung to, but this was an exceptional evening: power and mystery, tenderness and - blessedly! - wit. I can't remember the last time a programme of serious (as against comic) dance made a theatre laugh quite so much. Granted that I was leading the laughter, but I do that. Companies have spoken of hiring me in as their professional audience member: unashamed and infectious, apparently.

Going back to those eight pages: I've pretty much finished writing the new material now. I think. I just have to slog through the remaining twenty-five pages of draft #1, which should be more cutting than writing; then it will be fit - I hope - to show to a few people.

It's interesting, I've never been one for early readers and showing my work around before it goes to agents or editors; rather the opposite, the rule used to be that no one saw a piece before my agent had approved it. But I'm in other waters now, and far less confident; it's striking how much effect a change of label has on me. Badge something as SF, and suddenly I feel utterly out of my depth. I know, I've talked about this before; repetitiveness is a sign of insecurity.

I suspect there are many other signs of insecurity in this manuscript, which is why I want a few feedback opinions on it. One of those will actually be from my agent, I hope, but in his editorial persona; one thing for sure, this is not ready to be seen by publishers.

Further rewrites may have to wait. I need to get through this stage quickly, because I start New Novel on June 1st, come what may. And I don't have much of today to work on it, because I'm expecting visitors this morning, and this afternoon & evening are already spoken for: back to theatre, for an all-day production of both parts of 'Angels in America'. I expect to be harrowed, and unfit for anything after.
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