Showing posts from February, 2013


So I'm furiously writing my latest opus- a play with the working title "Don't Get Too Comfy Pal". The title will most likely change soon, but that will be the subject of a future blog. The play is a bit of poetic realism following four twenty-to-thirty-something New Yorkers dealing with unrequited love, betrayal, and attempted murder with a pinball machine. I've got the characters down- meaning I can hear what they sound like in my head and as such when I write a scene they just come in and do what they would do, react the way they would react, and still manage to surprise me with who they are. I've got a basic premise, or gimmick, where reality shifts at the end of every scene. And I am liking it all quite a bit. But then I get to that thing called the ending, the resolution of the crisis, the way things turn out for the characters, and I pause. There are at least three possible ways this story can finish: the sad ending with death and sorrow; the bitterswe…


I'm pretty much writing all the time. Most of it is in my head, because I have to do things like go to work, eat, sleep, clean the house, walk the dog, and do all those little things that comprise a life. But still I write. Stories whirl around in my head like ghosts trapped in a glass jar. Some are full apparitions, some are mere shadows whose shape is unclear. But regardless of size and definition, they live and breathe and demand attention- some moaning and groaning, some singing and dancing. And if I am not able to write them down, they get angry and usually louder. I often think that if I don't exorcise them via a story or script, they become a poison in my system.

What can I say? I might be a little weird, but isn't eveyone?

So, one of the ghosts that has gotten my attention and has made it to the page is a new play with the working title "Don't Get Too Comfy, Pal." It sprang out of a painting, a charcoal sketch by Liz Maugans called "Don't Ge…


Had one of those magic times this past week-end, where it seems like every step has been planned by benevolent forces who are guiding you to a destiny that is both mystical, fantastical, and contagiously positive. You know, the ones where every stranger you meet smiles, every conversation reveals something new and wondrous, and every moment seems to contain some secret message just for you that, whatever else it might say, has the over-riding message that all is well, and you are on the right path. You are where you are supposed to be. Rob Brezny, the only astrologist I read with regularity, calls this feelingPronoia, the sense that "the universe is conspiring to shower you with blessings."

What prompted this intense feeling of well being? I think the first and most important step was the decision to take my wife Lisa on a short, one night get-away to Manitou Springs, a mountain town nestled in the Rocky Mountains just below Pikes Peak, for Valentine's Day. We'd tal…


Ashes of the Old. That's the title of my play Burning the Old Man, as translated into Portugeuese by Geraldo Carrara for the Brazilian premiere directed by Luis Artur Nunes, which will open in Sao Paolo in March. I'm very excited about this production- the people involved, whom I have yet to meet in person, are dedicated, interesting, talented artists. I have been writing back and forth with several of the key players, particularly Alexandre Cruz and Marcelo Braga de Carvalho, and the discussions we have had about the play have been exhilarating. It is something rare and wonderful to discuss a play you've written with people in another country who like it so much that they have translated it into their own language and are putting up a production of the play. It makes you really think about what you have written, and why it seems to connect with people. For some reason, Burning the Old Man seems to be the play I've written that has touched the most people. It's by …