As usual, or at least as recently, the title is a dig against myself. I have a lot I want to do but I also have a lot I have to do while simultaneously having nothing to do.
Wait. Let me try that again.
I’ve got a big interview tomorrow for an e-commerce job, developing strategies for e-commerce sales, etc. etc. I felt pretty prepared. I had a great Powerpoint presentation ready to go that showed how the company could effectively innovate their e-marketing with little outlay… and then I received an email, which said in effect, “We want you to change everything but please don’t change anything. We like things just as they are.” So, I’m supposed to impress them by being unimpressive. No matter, it just means I’ll have to tap dance better than I thought.
Things for the reading are coming together as they fall apart. I lost one actor. His father is sick and, after losing my own dad, I know how much it means to spend what time you can with an ailing parent. Now, the call is out to an LA comedian that might just fit the bill. He’s tied up to two other shows in addition to his own so I’m not entirely sure he’ll be up to it. If he’s not, I figure I’m going to step in and fill the part. I’ve done it before – the writer/director/actor thing – so it wouldn’t be the first time. Meanwhile, it turns out one of my actors just happens to have they keys to a local theater where he’s allowed quite a few liberties – so we may just have an unexpected source of rehearsal space. This is good because as helpful as Sean is being I hate to impose impose impose. (I prefer to keep it to twice.)
So, I’m getting things ready for this interview and assembling blocking notes for the reading… all the while wanting very much to start writing something new. I just finished a long string of comedies: Sometimes We Find Our Way, Murder Zombies The Devil and Stuff, Diamonds To Go… I don’t have a joke left, couldn’t be funny if you paid me. (Okay, maybe if you paid me.) Right now, my thoughts are turned to writing something angry and emotionally messy. Once I get some time, I’m sure I’ll do just that – the dig in the title is a reflection on how much success I’ve met with my plays. But I keep writing them.
And that brings up a point I’ve been considering all day. Anyone out there with artistic inclinations of any kind may relate to this. After all the books I’ve written and plays I’ve written, somehow from somewhere deep inside me they keep coming. I’ve known writers who gave up in their teens. I’ve know other writers who still write but it’s the same story they’ve been writing for twenty years. They never grow. So, I’ve got to wonder when my turn is coming and if it will come before I find any success off the crap. After all, I’m not getting any younger. In fact, I’m pretty damn old. Every new book or play could be the last one I write and I’m very aware of this, so I consciously set out to make sure I’m getting the most bang for my creative buck. They day will come when I won’t be able to produce anymore. I want it to be worth it.
I actually have two readings in November, which caused some confusion with one of my actors. I could think of far worse fates than that, believe me.