When I Knew

Earlier this month, Robin Byrd posed the question, when did you know you were a playwright in a blog full of questions.

I will attempt to answer her question.

I was in London (England), and I was looking out at the Thames. In my memory, the sun was shining although that probably was not the reality.

I had just written play. I had built this play moment to moment and gesture by gesture. It was everything I wanted in a play, and it all just felt right somehow.

I also felt drunk even though I hadn’t been to the pub. That was that. I was a playwright. I was f*cked. Yep, totally post-coital sore and tired f*cked.

Yep I was gonna live a life of insanity. I was gonna be low on cash and scrappy. I was gonna spend years working on an idea, an idea, an idea, an idea. I was gonna date poor actors (don’t date actors) and work crappy money jobs (usually alongside actors). I was gonna kick myself for not pursuing screenwriting and sitcom writing and journalism and ad copy. Then when I was done kicking myself, I was gonna beat myself up for not writing plays like everyone else.

Then I got older and a little bit smarter (but not much). But I was still breathing. And I was still writing. Yep, I was still drinking.

 I haven’t been back to London since then.

1 Comment

  • By Robin Byrd, October 22, 2010 @ 12:36 pm

    What a wonderfully visual memory. Isn’t it always the crazy decisions that come easily…yet after years of living it there is probably only the “low on cash” thing that one would change. Thanks for sharing.

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