The year was 1984. “Death of a Salesman” was coming to Broadway, and I attended one of the preview performances. Seated next to me on the aisle was Arthur Miller, with a yellow pad on his lap. As soon as the play began, he started writing furiously on the yellow pad. By intermission, he had filled (no exaggeration, which I’m prone to do, but not this time) maybe half the pages. I was exhausted. Pretending to watch a play while you are really trying to read the comments on a page being written on in the dark next to you will cause you to take to your bed, to be sure.
This struck such a cord with me. Most of the time...I just give up. I have a mind that will fantasize some big event, then I don't have the patience to let it marinate and grow...I want instant success and then, well, I just give up. I don't know about Arthur Miller. Would he then take his notes to create a new play...would he rewrite the one that was already published. Was he on a quest for perfection. (which he pretty much was already as a playwright)
there is a lesson here for me to slow down, be patient with my projects and allow them to grown organically
This struck such a cord with me. Most of the time...I just give up. I have a mind that will fantasize some big event, then I don't have the patience to let it marinate and grow...I want instant success and then, well, I just give up. I don't know about Arthur Miller. Would he then take his notes to create a new play...would he rewrite the one that was already published. Was he on a quest for perfection. (which he pretty much was already as a playwright)
there is a lesson here for me to slow down, be patient with my projects and allow them to grown organically
Another really cool story!