It's the Intermission
A Creative Coffee Break

My first acting gig was when I was eight years old. I played “The Blue Fairy” in my third grade production of Pinocchio. I was cast for my looks, certainly not my talent. Besides, I wanted to play the puppet boy. Sure, I looked awfully pretty in the blue dress my mother slaved over for me, and I was the only actor allowed to wear shoes because mine sparkled. Looks alone, however, could not carry me through part. Sadly, suffering from grave stage fright, I could not laugh on cue. And, it’s true, I still cannot. A few years ago, I hung out with an actors group who got together to read plays. They let me read the stage directions. I’m pretty sure they still meet secretly without me. I am a bad actor, and I remain in awe of those who can bring characters to life.

My first play in a real theatre was circa 1972, on a high school outing to see Cyrano de Bergerac, at ACT in San Francisco. I was swept away with Cyrano, Christian and Roxane, and thought, “I want to do this.” No, definitely not act. “This” as in create the experience for those of us watching the stage. Soon afterwards, I read Albee’s The Zoo Story for the first time, which cemented my desire to write plays. Two very different theatrical experiences, indeed.

It would, however, be many years before I finally turned to writing plays with any seriousness. Is there a contradiction there, somewhere? Plays and seriousness?

Cheers…I am off to London to mark a birthday.