Theatrical Ups and Downs

Have sent out several drafts of new play, The Physic Garden, to people who have asked to see it. Have irresistible impulse to tweak script in between times. Suddenly decide that the linguistic differences between the two characters should be more marked. One must be much more obviously Scots than the other. This seems to change the relationship between the two men significantly. Then decide that some of my changes are just too phonetic and would hinder rather than help actors. So tone it down, but it has served its purpose. Also, play seems much longer. An hour perhaps? Is it too repetitive? Is it, in fact, a load of old rubbish? I no longer know.
To add to my incipient paranoia, there has been no reply. Zilch, nada, nothing.
Suspecting spam boxes and deletions, I try again, but still no answer.
Attempt to print out hard copy.
Printer throws wobbly and starts printing out page after page of code. Decide that PC is definitely male. Have suspected this all along. It cannot multi-task.
Ink cartridge runs out. Find replacement at bottom of drawer.
Finally manage to print out hard copy and put it in the post.
In the evening, the phone rings. It is nice man who asked to see a copy of The Price of a Fish Supper some time ago.
They have chosen six of the Oran Mor plays to be staged at the Edinburgh Festival.
Fish Supper was the seventh on the list. Story of my life.
By now, though, I can see exactly where he is going, and why.
At the worst possible moment, from a publicity and planning point of view, the actor from one of the chosen six plays has had a better offer and has pulled out. Would I be agreeable to Fish Supper coming off the subs bench so to speak?
I would.
But of course all this depends upon (a) availability of director (b) availability of actor and (c) the final decision of the venue which may decide to go for an empty space instead of a play.
And there is very little money.
Which presumably means that the empty space costs less.
So bearing all this in mind, says nice man, would I still be agreeable?
Can he see my big shrug, I wonder?
Yes, I say. That's absolutely fine by me.
Which, of course, it is.
But meanwhile, I will not be holding my breath.
Would you?
More later, as it happens.