This is what goes through my mind when I finish a play:
This is the best thing anyone has ever written; how come I still have to go to work this morning?
I so want to get laid right now.
Let’s start the next project right away.
Let’s take a breather for a couple of days.
Let’s do something quick. Like in, y’know, three days?
Y’know, it’s pretty good for a first draft, but don’t show it to the agent until it’s been rewritten.
How about a hug?
Which one of 20 Get Me Out Of My Day Job projects should I work on next?
And what about the other thirty folders in my files?
Let’s go through everything and see what strikes my fancy.
God, there’s so many things I could be doing!
I really wish I didn’t have this day job.
I am never going to be able to write one-fiftieth of all these projects.
My life sucks.
And this play sucks; I am going to have to rewrite it top to bottom.
Don’t touch me.