What's in the pipeline

I'm currently working on a few different projects, and I thought I'd take a second to blog about them. Playwright I am, first and foremost, and it's my hope that those of you who read this blog are interested not only in buffoonery and commentary on the state of all things, but a bit about what goes into trying to make a career of writing, and a bit of the process part.

As of this week, my newest play, Glee Club, has been accepted as a part of the Brick Theater's upcoming summer festival The Antidepressant Festival. This play is far from complete, but what I do have down on paper is promising. I have a few different modes as a playwright, and I tend to sort of shift between them. I don't think I really have a single voice as a writer, just like I don't have a single voice as a person. I write some relatively silly plays, some more serious, and some that sort of hover in the middle.

Glee Club is undoubtedly on the sillier side, and I began to develop it for the purposes of submitting it to the Antidepressant Festival. I couldn't think of anything more expressly free and hopeful than singing in a group. There's something just plain odd and unpretentious about a glee club. Hell, the name itself implies its intentions: be happy, singing to make yourself and others feel good.

But, of course, human beings are flawed and if the group is entirely made up of men, I'd expect a little competitiveness and judgment and bull headedness to arise. Turn natural aggression up to 11 and try to make it sing in harmony. That's the goal. Hopefully, it'll come off well.

The song they'll be singing is "Happy Birds Go To Heaven." I hope you enjoy it. Lyrics by yours truly.

I'm also hard at work on The Bull Crime, which is a play about pharmaceuticals, office life, and the desire to do the right thing. It's also about a fish. It's written in a style that's probably closest to The Most Wonderful Love. If that play was my attempt to write You Can't Take It With You, this one is probably more like Glenngarry Glen Ross. Or An Enemy of the People. Something like that.

For those of you in Chicago, I'm in talks with Oracle Productions to bring a shortened version of Bluebeard to your fair city, as a part of an evening of Gran Guignol plays. Bluebeard probably runs an hour and a half right now, but it's oddly structured: it's got a middle section that is full of language, and but the bookends are silent or quiet sections. Finding ways to cut down a play that has a lot of silence is a problem I'm not used to trying to solve.

I popped by the Drama Bookshop last night and found the Samuel French edition of When Is A Clock. Happy to see it there in the new releases. If you haven't picked one up, I'd be much obliged if you do. I'm proud of it and I think it's a very good read. I would, though, wouldn't I?