Spent a fair few minutes over the last few days thinking about drama projects for next year. In some ways this is the most exciting time of all when a show is tentatively on its way because all options are so open and you don't have to face the intimidating need to actually get something done by the end of the week. Yet, curiously, there is an attendant sense of impatience, of wanting to get to the point of seeing something, even in its roughest shape, manifest itself, of wanting to give airy nothing a local habitation and a name. Once you can do that the swirl of ideas calms itself, which is in some ways disappointing, but in other ways a relief. It isn't wise to surrender to obsessions too eagerly.
Mind you, it's always useful to be obsessed about something worth obsessing over and I'm particularly happy to find myself unable to stop thinking about A Midsummer Night's Dream (as cunning readers may have surmised from the previous paragraph) which we've confirmed as our big show for next July. I'm particularly fixated at present on the notion of Dionysian anarchy, a dangerous place to be.
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