I’m writing probably more than I have in the last seven or eight years.  Which is weird since…  I’m having such a hard time deciding whether or not I think plays are interesting.  I mean on the one hand, I think about the untold millions of theatre goers who still like straight-up stories.  And I think about all the actors who are able to find something creative in saying words someone else wrote…  And hell, I’ve got all these stories falling off of my fingertips…  Why not?  But I’ve also got a little bit of an itchy nag at the back of my mind — like is there a place where stories can live with performance?  Is there a way a practice that can allow a writer into the game?  A meeting point, an interface between text and action apart from the indentured servitude of acting…  I’ve thrown myself headlong into my role as playwright and invited people along to a reading of this play from years back (which I remembered as being brilliant) and in preparation for said reading I went back and gave it a good thorough read through and I was aghast.  It was … Not how I remembered it.  So I’ve been attacking it with a good sharp keyboard and trying to take it all apart and put it back together again before I hand it across to actors who will never know the kindness I did in not giving them the original untouched script…  But the exercise has got me really examining what I think the role of the playwright is, and what an interesting story is…  I mean maybe even…  Is story interesting enough in itself.  And what can people do besides talk?  Maybe the play would be better without any dialogue?  Who knows…  I’m looking for some kind of place — some Nirvana — where I can stumble around in the rehearsal room with everybody else but somehow still tell stories with words.

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