My three-week rewrite marathon has finally come to a close. Whew! Two plays have been rewritten and repolished and revamped and all I'm interested in now is a production or something damn-near close to a production. I tell you, writing plays can be a very vacuumed experience: all your heart and intellect and hopefully your truth is laid out in 70 pages plus yet... that doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean theaters will like it. It doesn't mean it's going to Broadway [hell, off-off Broadway ain't guaranteed either]. It's just you and your ideas and emotions on 70 pages. You alone with your computer for five hours a day for a year [or two, or ten] and no promise that anyone will read it [and in most cases it will just sit on the shelf of some theater and collect dust and most likely be thrown away in five years.] And that can be quite a scary, lonely, frustrating way to exist. And although my plays were express-mailed to my agent and a couple of American theaters [which makes me one of the lucky ones], I still go on with my life with the full adult understanding that nothing may ever happen to these plays and I must live with that.

Until next time,

Keith