All right – eggs laid almost a year ago are, uh, hatching. I submitted to a theatre in Chicago (the number two “theatre town” in America) last summer, and I just found out that they’re going to produce my play in a funky 72-hour-straight play fest in August. I’ve always wanted to go to Chicago. Maybe I’ll check it out.

Every time I hear about shit like this, it makes me so bummed that Houston doesn’t have any sort of new play fest. I realize this isn’t a “theatre town,” but come on. Maybe I need to start one. There are plenty of great actors in Houston who would love to be involved (I think), and there’s no shortage of writing talent in this city and around the country. I can tell you that I’m not doing this for the cash. I’m doing it because I want my shit to be performed in front of as many people as possible. And there are thousands of people just like me. Granted, when you’re attempting to make your living off playwriting, you’re a bit more picky about the details. But I’m not. Yet. I have a day job. And I would guess that the majority of people writing plays in this country are in the same situation. Doesn’t take away from what they’re producing. It’s just the nature of the beast. We do it because of the compulsion. Not because of the paycheck. If it were just about money, most playwrights would be technical writers for an energy company. Now that pays.

Now that NYC and Chicago can be checked off the list, I must concentrate my efforts on the west coast. Tough nut to crack. Good thing is, once I’ve written the three or four plays for the Houston production this fall, I’ll have a lot more stuff to submit.

I love the pressure. Dammit.

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