Here's a quick snippet from the newest play. Because you heard it here first.
It’s not a second career. It’s a fourth career. When I was writing, I was always also working for the recruiter, and when I decided I’d make the transition to writing professionally, that never really counted as being a writer. That was content. I was a content provider. Which was better than being a recruiter, especially if you wanted to be a writer. The illusion was that I was incrementally moving towards writing by providing content, as if because both involved words they are related. The novel I wasn’t writing or even that short story that’s about five hundred words from done; they just stayed not written. So fuck it... I’m like “writing is bullshit and no one needs me to be a writer.” So I’m at school, and I’m going to get this degree and it’s not so bad, it’s CUNY so it’s not destroying me financially, and that’s awesome. But now I have this totally bizarre side job just to pay for school, so that I can go into a career in interior design, someday, instead of any of the things I’ve spent all my life doing. Which is great and fine and whatever. I win, someday, or I just keep losing like I’m winning, or something.