Multiple Personality

That title is my cute little conflation of “writing” and “gratitude.” I suppose it could also be a combination of “writing” and “attitude,” but I certainly don’t need to devote extra time to exploring any attitude I have as a writer . . . I’ve already got all the lucidity I’ll ever need on that front.

Oprah et al. suggest we develop gratitude lists. I do certainly see the validity of that. I also know all about the recalcitrance. (This is a writer entry; I ain’t gonna spend time finding an easier word than “recalcitrance” . . . believe it or not, that’s the first one that occurs to me for the occasion.) Anyway, it’s been a difficult 24 hours dealing with family issues. However, in the midst of uncomfortable and unhappy life-plot developments, I had gel in my mind the workings of a new play. One I am hugely enthused and inspired about (and am not the least bit ready to discuss, no offense.) That new mind-expansion could surely be considered something I’m grateful for, but my purpose in listing some writitude here is to acknowledge work in the “out there” that I’m particularly inspired by . . . for various and sundry reasons that I don’t feel like delving into, but trust me that it’s a good idea.

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There isn’t a particularly good reason I’ve posted the [title of show] Christmas show here, seeing as how, um, it’s not Christmas. But I think it’s funny. I especially love how the alcoholic puppet Mindy unleashes her impotent rage on Broadway’s Cheyenne Jackson. And the list of “guest stars” is satire at its satiredest. (Sorry . . . if “Shamu with power bottom Joey Stefano” isn’t funny to you, I can’t help.)

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My first work in the Business we call Show was in improv comedy. (I won’t say which Robin and Garry were in class, but somebody managed to parlay it into a career.) Needless to say, I’m a big fan of improv. And I’m a big fan of life imitating art. How much do you think I love the following?

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The reverent and irreverent Terry Cole-Whittaker once wrote a book called, What You Think of Me is None of My Business. Events of the recent past make me want to pick up a copy.

There is a Brilliant Songwriter whose work I have been enamored of for quite some time. This Brilliant Songwriter created a new set of songs not too long ago, and I was so taken with it that I sent him an email that said, “I want to marry your talent and honeymoon with it in Brazil.” BS responded, unexpectedly, with an email asking how I knew that his talent wanted to go to Brazil. A very minor correspondence ensued, and when I found I was going to be spending some time in his city he agreed, to my delight, to meet me for coffee.

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Be careful what you wish for. A few months back I asked my Famous English Actor Friend (I’ll just call him FEAF) to read one of my plays, Dissociated States, and give me his notes. I think this play is in good shape and I’d like to do a mass submission of it to theater companies; as they say, it’s not really a play unless people are watching it on a stage. (Some people say the same thing about sex, but I stopped hanging out with them when I left New York.)

FEAF had never gotten back to me with his comments, and I recently sent him a plaintive email asking if he wouldn’t mind getting the lead out (I put it much more classy than that). And, lo and behold, today I got an email with oodles of notes. And I don’t know what to make of most of them. I tell my playwriting students that rewrites are gut-wrenching — or, at the least, daunting. And I find myself feeling daunted, wrenched, and lacking in guts.

Don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful to FEAF for his notes and the time spent. I’ll just be having a personality disorder for a while now. I’ll let you know when I’m done.