Unless I’ve had a bit (you know, like, a bottle) to drink before bed, I usually lie there for an hour or so trying to quiet down the little monkeys in my brain before I fall asleep. Or maybe not quiet them down exactly (because they will not be silenced) but try to acknowledge them, give them their due, so they’ll go to sleep for a few hours and the workers in my brain can start refilling the potholes the monkeys created during the day.
A lot of my play ideas come to me at this time. For instance, Militia Slumber Party started when I was lying there thinking about a new, offensive version of the pledge of allegiance. I saw a dad and a little boy, both wearing camo feet pajamas, having a slumber party and reciting this stupid, hateful little ditty. That eventually grew into three grown men who were having an “overnight planning meeting” to work on a plot against the gubment. The pledge was not part of the final piece, though the feet pajamas did make it across.
Not all of the ideas are good, original or useful. The one that bothered me last night was the idea to create a magazine called Chicklit featuring, you guessed it, writing by women. For whatever reason, I thought that this was an original and good idea. A quick google this morning showed me that it’s been done lots of times before. Because it’s not a clever title – basically just getting rid of the space between two words. And I don’t even like chick lit. So why in the hell would I care about the creation of a mag dedicated to the stuff?
You just have to rifle through the turds to find the occasional truffle, I guess.