Felt like writing something, but didn't know what . . . so thought I'd sit and see what the first thing I write is. Sometimes that spontaneity leads to pretty wonderful things. I did that with a one act once upon a time: I sat down and wrote the first thing that came to me . . . which was: Hobart throws things around the room. And then I had to figure out why . . .which ended up being my one act What of the Bird? That was fun. Of course I'm not sitting here to write a play, just to kind of jam on el bloggo. There is some modicum of theater news, my play Dead Authors was rejected by the Schreiber studio people for their development thing . . . another punch to roll with. If you want easy, don't look to theater. Nothing about it is easy. It takes intense focused determination and you have to able to make a living somehow because, except for the few fortunate ones, making money in theater is very very hard to do.
Of course, making money in the arts isn't why anybody gets into the arts. If you are an artist, it's just who you are. It's what you do . . . so you find your ways to get your stuff out there and find a way to keep a roof over your head and plug away until your ashes fertilize some forest somewhere. It's much like the curse of Didi and Gogo in Waiting for Godot: they can't go on, but they must go on. Why? Because they are there.
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