guess who’s back, guess who’s back, guess who’s back, guess who’s back. . .
I’m a bad playwright. I never learned the lingo for conversation in playwriting settings. I probably should talk about myself more, but I’m thinking of myself most of the time in the making of said plays, so in playwriting settings, I would rather not talk about myself. I want to talk about baseball or kittens. Just not about me.
Another reason that I’m a bad playwright is that I don’t dress right. Sure I wear a lot of black, but I never liked the colorful patchwork clothes or mismatched socks that I’ve seen playwrights wear. I also can’t afford to spend thirty dollars on cool t-shirts with hip sayings on them. I’m sorry. I just can’t.
Also, if you come to see my play, I will ask you what you think. Yes, I know. Awwwkward. It’s okay. Just lie because if you say something negative, I will carry that around for a week while compulsively tearing off my finger nails.
I can’t stand bad plays. Sometimes I wish the audience would just riot and storm the stage to put the actors out of their misery. I know, I know, I should be supportive. I will go into the experience of bad plays later in the week.
I never know what to say to playwrights or actors or directors I admire. I remember over a decade ago I was at event and a playwright whom I admire was there as well, and damn if I could figure out what to say. Your work feeds me as an artist seemed a bit much for a cheap wine and cheese event.
I will say this. I’m good at disguise. I can be at a party or an event, and no one would know I’m a playwright.