As I strive to create a warm and fuzzy wuzzy theatre, I try to keep it all in the positive.

However, I find it very difficult to keep in the positive even though I live in three hundred days of sunshine and seventy degrees. Still the torture chamber of darkness and despair in my brain sometimes surfaces at inopportune times. 

Recently I was having lunch with an actress friend. She’s one of those actresses that writers dream about. She’s smart and talented. Anyway, she told me about an acting workshop she took which wasn’t really a fit for her. She went in with the best of intentions but the facilitator turned out to be an asshole. It happens.

After she told her tale of woe, she felt bad for how it all worked out. She felt like she had failed in some way. At that moment, I had a career epiphany.

My friend had not failed. There’s no such thing as failure in the theatre. It just didn’t work out. Because it just didn’t work out, you can’t really say anything majorly bad about the experience. It just didn’t work out, then move on to the next thing and the thing after that.

Tomorrow, the fuzzy wuzziness continues with Dirty Laundry. It’s not just about socks anymore.