"I got plenty to confess, but better to wait till it’s over, get it all out at once."

Confession: I often feel like someone is about to expose me as a playwrighting fraud. This rears its head at ugly and awkward times: when getting dressed to go to one of my events, ("Is this what a playwright wears, or just someone trying to look like a playwright?") after I meet creative staff for the first time, ("I totally didn't sound like a playwright, what playwright says that?") and anytime the words 'method' or 'style' come up in terms of the words I put down on paper and ask people to perform in front of other people who have paid money to see it.

...because I haven't been 'trained'. And as a write that, I can't help but think of the poor dumb mutt who isn't house broken and just looks forlornly at his own poop when you come home, suddenly realizing that 'Oh, that probably doesn't belong here... But where should I put it?' That's how my work is when I stop to try and catalog it. I've taken some really awesome classes, and I don't want to take away anything from the amazing teachers who have invested their time in me. They rock.

And would the embossed piece of paper, the extra line on my resume... would that make me feel legitimate? Or is it a slow wearing away? Is it something that I have to accept? And, if so, how do I really accept that when asked about my style or my method, the most precise answer is, "I dunno." I'm not very well read; in every class I've taken, there's been a 'basic tool' that is brand new to me and that I fall in love with. And when I sit down to write, I just start writing. I don't have a real plan, I just make stuff up that feels right. That's my method.

I'm trying to get better, but it still feels false. An example: I don't use outlines. But I've heard PLAYWRIGHTS do. So recently, I tried using an outline. It looked like this...





















Which was entertaining over coffee and raisins, but only showed me all the scenes I hadn't written, not what I needed to write. Also... I lost half the cards and most of them came untaped, so my methodology at very least was lacking.

The thing that did help me figure out the rest of the play was this...
 

Which, you know, isn't really a, um, thing. But that's what I do... oh, and try to figure out what the heck to wear.

-BGD

"Cause nothing could be sweeter..."

I hate waiting for things. It's not that I'm impatient, I just... okay there has to be a good word for this. C'mon, I'm a writer. THINK! What's the awesome way to say that I'm impatient? Ummm... nevermind, just give it to me now!

The "it" in this case, dear non-existent reader, is my composer's first pass at our very first song. He sent me a little sample after I roughed out some lyrics and it totally cracked this smile across my face and I'm so stoked to see what the end product is. It's like Christmas Eve.

And a fun story about my childhood is I threw up on Christmas Eve from anticipation. So... there's that possibility. But after the week I've had-

Let's pause here for a moment to talk about how I got so depressed over my job in the middle of the week, that I texted friends demanding they tell me great things about me or that "they" suck. My two favorites were my sweetsweet friend texted me "You are marvelous. You are funny and smart and nerdy and caring and delightful. And whoever is making you feel crappy SUCKS and I will punch them in their stupid ass-faces." Also..."You deserve unicorns." The fact that I had to solicit them didn't even bother me, I was so down.

-after the week I've had. I deserve something cool. And Peter.... Oh, another piece of news. My composer's name is Peter Gaffney. I will try to describe him more in depth later, but for now I will say he's a wild-haired accordionist with a great sense of fearlessness and fun. He's deeply understanding and really quick at putting things together. Basically, I love Peter and want to pet him every time I see him. (good thing Peter doesn't read this though, that'd be awkward. So don't tell him, non-existent reader) Back to the point... he said he'd send me something today or tomorrow.

ChristmasEveChristmasEveChristmasEveChristmasEve!

-BGD

"a good lover stays sprunned"

Time for some good old fashioned doublespeak.

When I'm writing, I'm not worried about whether something is "good". The moment I share it with someone, that's all I care about. But when writing, I know that it only has to be "right", because if it's right then it will be good, but if I try to write something good, at best it will only be precious, which may not be bad but is rarely right.... and therefore not good. Writing is never a straight line. I worry a lot when I love something I write, when I'm convinced it's good before I'm told it's good. When my ego strikes WHILE I'm writing.

I've heard argument that writing is an act of ego, but it's sharing what you've written that is the act of ego. While you think I'm splitting hairs, I'm not. Writing is a passive act to me. It's active, sure. But passive in that I'm trying to exert as little will as I can on it, discover "truth" or what I call "right", so it can be good later. It's much harder to take something I love and make it good because I already believe that the world is off its rocker and it secretly IS good and no one else knows, and by changing it I will alter what is good and... There's a lot of messy stuff there. It's much easier to look at something I thought was right and have someone else say, "that's good, but it's not quite right." Then I can dig in and make it better.

Not that it's not a blow to my ego. (see? there is ego) I handed it to you to show you what a "good" writer I am, how "good" my writing is because it's not trying to be good, only right. And you come back and say it is good, but it's not right?

Whatever.

What am I really talking about?
I wrote my first song. (well, lyrics.) And I love them.

 Oh........no.

-BGD

First meeting

I work better in a class. Maybe it's the feeling that writing assignments don't have to be 'good' they just have to be 'finished' frees me. In fact, I know that's a part of it. But there is also an immediate investment I feel for my classmates. I become so engaged in helping them work, and in honoring their time with me, that I really push myself. Several times I have seen classmates writing safe things and holding back from looking like a creep or a freak or... who knows what. That's usually when I open up with something I know will be disturbing, something that usually disturbs me and I sweat profusely while I read it. I do that so everyone will be free to write anything that comes into their head. And the strange part is, it usually works.

And my classmates have given back to me in such rich ways: wonderful critiques, inspiring words and courageous work that really pushes me to strive for more. That's why I am so thrilled to have been selected for a new writer's group. As always, when I looked around the circle at our first meeting, I thought "Oh man, do I deserve to be here?" Everyone's story was of "real" artistic work with credentials or incredible potential to back it up.

And I was there too.

I know this feeling will pass. And I know great things will come from it. For right now, I'm just grateful to be involved.

-BGD