Intermission
a creative coffee break from writing the play

Parked this morning at Day’s Espresso and Coffee House, where I am only occasionally setup with my pad, pen or laptop. I try to rotate my welcome at all the neighborhood coffee shops during the week. I was at Day’s yesterday, and I came back today because I needed some familiarity in my routine. While I love living here in Louisville, I am a little overwhelmed by the newness of everything. Each day brings a “first time” for the majority of experiences.

“Each day a new beginning” aside, I long for September in San Francisco, the quotation cards taped to the window of the yellow Victorian on Church Street, my elderly friend RS, with his beret on his head, stopping for a chat as I begin my walk to 24th Street, and he returns from his, the cat on Sanchez who always blinks at me as I pass by, the comprehensive magazine shop on 24th, and the coffee geeks who know my name. All the things, experiences, which are familiar, that have years of recurrence.

A couple of weeks ago, on the drive home from a weekend in Chicago, a new play began. The end of August, I had made a list of all the ideas nudging at me, wanting to be sculpted into plays, and this particular idea was almost an afterthought, near the bottom of the list. The play came in a rush, with one beat leading to another until I had what I call a rough scene sheet. This sheet contains notes of the images, and emotion that carry major scenes. The ending of this play came to me very clearly. When I can see and hear the final moment of a play, I know it’s time to write it. Usually plays mull for a period of months, some even for years, before the images become crystallized in my mind.

And so, I am writing the new play, amazed by its ferocity in spewing forth onto the page. There are elements which my Editor’s Mind balks at, trying to dictate other ideas or directions. I know my muse well enough by now, to go with where the story and the characters take me. They are usually right. My Editor’s Mind is usually wrong, wanting to go someplace familiar and safe. MBH wrote me recently, he was pondering two different paths for a play he was writing. He wrote, “both get me to the place I want, in different ways,” and he needed to decide which one. In my fashion, I couldn’t help but eWrite back, “pick the one that’s scariest path.”  That’s the best advice I give myself as well. When in doubt, choose to write about the thing that’s uncomfortable, that’s new, that’s scares the hell out of me because what will people think if I do that?

I always do that when I’m writing. Shove the Editor’s Mind aside, and choose the path that’s scary. You know scary, don’t you? It’s the thing in your stomach that churns when you are not in control.

Re-parked myself at a Cafe I’ve never been.

Enough of this avoidance now, I’m going back to writing the play.