The collective noun already seems immovably apt. A rejection of playwrights.
All I can do is mull the lessons to be drawn*. Whatever they are. One of them might be not to despair when an artistic director who doesn't know you from Adam mistakes you for someone who'd be interested in a demolishing critical review of a play that's already won you an award. I could expand on this but really, no point.
I think this getting back into the swing thing is going to be harder than I thought. Must remember to remember, only three/four months since I was dug out the pit that nearly did for me.
Brighter note, had a good chat with Gareth M at Southwark yesterday. He's up to his eyes getting his Canterbury Tales ready but still found time to ask me in to see how things are going and how he could help. Nice man.
*and finish the bloody play