Actually, I wish writing this last play had been that easy. Instead, I made it a difficult, drawn-out ordeal.
You see, last Monday I skipped both my jobs, and actually got to be a playwright for a day. I went with Mandy and Matt Okin to meet a middle school drama class they teach at a private school in Englewood (yes, that part of Englewood). I brought with me some lines from The Concert for them to read, as well as the beginning of a play--for which I sought their ideas and input. I enjoyed the creativity in their improv scenes, and they impressed me in the brainstorming session we had to close out the class. What before I could hardly imagine, I now was inspired to go write after actually meeting the students.
Now, for some reason, I complicate translating that creative energy into words. It should be an easy transition, almost natural for me at this point. But alas, I almost always manage to lose sight of the path before me--just sit down and write. And I do try it, attempt to instill a disciplined working method, but all too often I succumb to procrastination and laziness. And it's not necessarily a matter of time or distractions, no, I don't even make it that simple. More often, it's just something in my head I refuse to get over, around, or through--until the threat of disappointment and failure get my ass in gear. Regardless, just like legislation and hot dogs, you probably don't want to be privy to the grimy details of "the process." That's why I should just leave these posts as that: the final product.
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