A late night message from a writerly type questioned my recent aloofness of late – though I have managed to keep up with boring my friends on Facebook with my music taste and announcing the writers on my next project via Twitter – I have been a little aloof (I refer to it as “feeling small”) in foyers and online.

I have been waist-deep in grant writing… for myself and other companies and artists and collectives I’m affiliated with – and then the usual board duties at Shopfront Contemporary Arts and Performance, assisting with the hosting of two fundraisers within two weeks, the development of programs for The Arts Platform, the wooing of artists for the upcoming New Writing Extravaganza “A View From Moving Windows” for Riverside Theatres AND the editing of the Stories From the 428 Book… and of course, that faithfully fraught long-term relationship with my laundry.

Additionally I have been trying to respond to all the invitations I am still receiving for opening nights, explaining my no-writing policy from here on in.

However I have been attending shows/events in capacity as “handbag” to Mr Waites (The Histrionic, Sydney Theatre Company) , and “gushing fan” to Mr Skuse (Three Sisters at The Actors Centre) and “humbled chaffeur” to Mr Misto (Shoe Horn Sonata, Emu Heights Productions), “indy-enthusiast” with Mr Pok (Hamlet, Sport for Jove at The Seymour), “cheese eater” with Mr Simon (Biennale Launch at Carriageworks) – all which have been lovely.

Now that THAT intensive period of grant writing, business planning and setting up has finished – I’ll be back in the saddle once more writing as regularly as I am inspired to – about what I’m working on, who I’m working with, extended thoughts on matters of personal,national creative cultural significance and perhaps a recipe or two – or a deep confession.

But I thought a quick note to reassure you that I’ve not been vanquished… nor have the winds been taken out of my sails, merely re-directed as I indulge in the ancient rite of passage in the arts : Grant Writing. Colleagues and fellow artistic mischief makers know these months well… and I seem to have suffered minor personality-loss and moderate weight-gain: symptoms of a writerly deadline.

Also, thought I should give you a heads-up that the last response (review) I will writing (and yes it is well-over due) will be up in the next day or so and it is a well digested rumination on Vanessa Bates’ production ‘Porn.Cake’ currently in it’s final week at The Stables.

This is a reminder: my heart grows fonder, not colder though I am absent:
“Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love.”