So as soon as Mercury stopped squaring the moon and we got the call the plumber/I can fix it see-saw out of the way its trine to Jupiter kicked in, and somehow I found myself in the computer room behaving as though I'm a playwright.
I pay a ludicrous amount of money every year to belong to the Dramatists Guild and for the past year or so have barely opened the e-newsletters they send every couple of weeks. I leave them unread in my mailbox and after a month or so open them and check the Submission Opportunities. Lo and behold, if there is ever an opportunity for which one of my plays meets the qualifications, the deadline is long gone and I delete the email, wondering if being on Wellbutrin for eleven years has turned me into an ambitious-less zombie or if I'm just pathologically lazy.
Whichever of those choices it may be (and maybe there are more than two choices - maybe I'm an ambitious-less pathologically lazy zombie ha ha) I did see a submission opportunity for which one of my plays might be suitable, and - alert the media - sent a query. And, lo and behold II, received a considerate and thoughtful acknowledgment thanking me and telling me it will take about six weeks for all entries to be read, and that the theatre will then be in touch. Doesn't often happen.
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