Intermission
a creative coffee break from writing the play

For the first time in a very long time, I am not writing. I am packing boxes, talking to movers, dealing with  real estate issues, and lunching with people I won’t see again for some time.

The Beloved and I will drive across the country with our dog and our cat. I’ve fretted a bit about the sweet cat, and the four day drive with the dog she cannot stand. We came up with this solution:
She seems to like it, having spent the last couple of days hanging out in this new “car condo.” She can stretch her legs, lay flat, curl in a ball, stand completely up, or even sit up like a normal cat. I think it’s gonna work. Light a candle for us, dear readers, if you will, around mid-April.

Back home from a three performance showcase of one of my plays. A very happy experience, although I got very re-attached to my characters, and it was sad to see them go back to…what? paper? after being brought to life for several days by fine actors. It was a complicated, very visual play and the theatre went as far as they could to stage it short of a production. The play, me, and the audience needed all that effort. It was beautiful to see.

There were the moments of expected self-doubt…"What have I done? This play sucks, and all these people are working to make it happen, how humiliating!" It is a serious play, yet there is a lot of humor I was terrified would fall flat. When we finally got before an audience, it was a relief to hear people laugh. The play requires the audience to stay awake and, uh, not arrive late.  I was pleasantly surprised to find the audience went willingly to where I took them. I wasn’t sure. The play breaks a lot of rules, which I love to do. I warn you, though, don’t try that at home with your own play unless you know what the structural rules are you are breaking. Now, back home, I am adding a few lines, trimming a little here and there, yet feel very much like the play has reached its maturity. Now to find a theatre to take it on…

I had a moment, too, during the second performance of the play, where I thought, "If no one appreciates this performance besides me, is that okay?" The thing is, I am not a tortured artist anymore. Life is too short, too painful all on its own to create any unnecessary extras. I enjoyed each and every moment of those performances, except for the brief moment I mentioned above, when I fell into the bowels of hell. I just didn’t stay there very long. I create plays I want to see. I want, however, to share them with those who will resonate with them. Or argue about them. It’s no fun without all that.

I’ve been thinking a lot about something Lew Hunter has said. I’m going to paraphrase it while I continue looking for it (and then we’ll see if I was imagining it). He said, in reference to screenwriting, it takes about between four to six scripts to hit your stride, to learn your craft, and you shouldn’t expect to earn a living until then. (I promise I’ll find the exact quote. If you find it first, email me!) There’s a lot of truth and wisdom in the idea. Writers have a tendency to write their first play and expect it to be produced. (And it can happen. My first play was produced. Doesn’t mean the second and third were.) I’ve written a good handful of plays, screenplays, whatnots by now, and even I’ve noticed the last three  plays were far better than the first ones.  It took awhile to find my voice. I didn’t know that. I thought I had one. I did. It’s just matured into something finer.

I’ve also been thinking about the fine line between sticking to one’s artistic vision and being arrogant about one’s art. It’s hard to learn the former. Easy to fall into the latter. Hopefully we have good friends who can help us discern the difference. (Always, remember to thank the Beloved and MBH.)