That's how I always approach these things. Gulp. These twenty-four hour play fests. I try not to put any pressure on myeslf, which is a lot like saying, just don't think about the word, elephant, and then there's nothing else you can think about except the word, elephant.
Oh, what am I blathering on about now? You don't know? The Mad Dash, a twenty-four hour play fest. A collaboration between Fresh Ink and Interim Writers. I mean, where the heck have you been? It's been plastered all over Facebook, for goodness sakes.
Tonight, sixteen, count 'em, sixteen playwrights will be paired into eight teams, and eight directors will be matched with the teams. The writers (wrighters?) will be given a prompt, one line of dialogue to include in their play (that was provided ahead of time by evil audience members), and will be told how many actors they're writing for, and roughly eleven hours later--by 7:00 the next a.m.--the bleary-eyed playwrights have to deliver a ten-minute script. Then the director works it and actors memorize their lines and blocking and motivations, and at 8:00 tomorrow night (July 13) the plays will be produced at the Cambridge YMCA.
If you want to know who's crazy/brave/fun-loving enough to do something like this, here's a list of the artists.
And some amazing prizes will be raffled off. See them here, on Fresh Ink's Facebook page. If you're not friends with them, well, wtf?
As for me, well, people ask me how I prepare for something like this. You don't. You just let it happen, let it wash over you, make a pot of coffee and a bowl of popcorn, and give your id full rein.
The Edge did a really nice write-up. (Yo, thank you so much for writing so many nice words!) You can read it here.