Back with Anthony and Casey: Workshopping and New Roles

In 2019, I was given the opportunity to conduct a series of interviews on The Girl With the Red Hair, a play by writer/director Anthony Laura. Starring Casey Hartnett as Hayley Jones, The Girl with the Red Hair, is an exploration of the damage rendered by sexual abuse, of a mind in turmoil as it attempts to cope with experiences far too extreme to process. In the ever-deepening shadows of the girl she once was, who is Hayley Jones, and will it be enough to simply be a survivor?

As the cast and crew prepped The Girl With the Red Hair for a limited run in December (a run that received great praise and fanfare), I had the pleasure of discussing the process and direction of the play with Anthony and Casey, as well as supporting actors, Viven Cardone, Samatha Yestrebsky, and Alexandra Rooney. This not only offered the opportunity to discuss each actor’s approach and vision for their character, but also offered the rare opportunity to follow a work as it progressed from script to the stage.

But, now I have more questions! What happens to a play once a limited run is complete? Where does it go from there? What happens when a play is workshopped?

Fortunately, Anthony has been gracious enough to allow me to continue to follow the cast and crew as they prepare the play for future runs. Through interviews, video chats, pictures, and more, we’ll have a seat at the table as cast and crew develop, prepare, and rewrite The Girl With the Red Hair for future runs on stage.

So … Let’s begin where we started, with Anthony and Casey. 


 

Back with Anthony and Casey:

Workshopping and New Roles

First and foremost, congratulations on a successful run of The Girl with the Red Hair! The reviews certainly spoke highly of the story, and most definitely of your performance, Casey. On the heels of that limited run, where is production now?

Anthony: We’ve been diving into the scenes that we felt worked well over the past two runs and I have been writing new scenes for us to explore, both in terms of some that will appear in the play and some that will only be used for backstory purposes. It’s been interesting to explore the dynamics that don’t exist on the stage, such as how each person relates differently to Doctor Watkins and how their relationships to characters outside of Hayley inform the environment of the hospital.

Casey: Thanks so much! I’m really proud of the work we did last year. Now, we are working towards returning with a larger off-Broadway run this fall. So, beginning with a workshop of the current script, story, and characters, we’re playing around with what we want to keep and what we might want to change in order to adapt the script to tell the story in an even more effective way. So we’re workshopping the play for the first half of the year and then are planning on putting it up in the fall, depending on what happens with the theaters and scheduling regarding the covid-19 virus. Right now we’re keeping a positive outlook and an open mind and focusing on the workshop first and foremost. 

Recently, Face to Face films added the role of Creative Partner for you, Casey. What does that role entail? 

I will be working with Anthony on various productions not only as an actor but also doing various production tasks, sometimes helping with producing or giving feedback on scripts and stories and characters. We just want to be creating and telling stories that we care about … Anthony and I have found that individually as artists we each focus on similar types of stories. About women and taboo issues. So it’s great having a creative partner that you trust who you can just spitball ideas with and create projects that you both genuinely care about. It just so happens that the projects I had been creating independently correlate well with the themes and message that Anthony and Face to Face Films has been trying to get across, so why not work together? 

Anthony, since Casey mentioned the company message, what can you tell us about its focus?

Face To Face Films is focused on female led work and bringing voice to stories about people that are not regularly understood. We have an incredible group of talented Resident Artists in the company, as well as a brilliant behind the scenes team, which also includes Casey, who produce, curate and help promote the shows and films we do. It was always important to me to tell stories that were about people who inspired me and who I wanted to see represented on screen. In addition, I also wanted to create a company with people who I’m inspired by and who believed in each other, just as much as the work we were doing. I believe that the works that audiences respond to are the ones in which the people creating them are as beautiful, kind and as vulnerable as the characters you respond to on the screen or stage. It’s been a privilege to find that in everyone that is working within the company.

Casey, how has your new role changed the way you work with Anthony? What’s been the greatest challenge?

Well, I’ve always felt seen and heard whenever I’ve had an idea about something while working as an actor with Anthony, so now working with him as a creative partner on the production and writing side of things it doesn’t necessarily feel like too much has changed. I guess I’m more comfortable stating my thoughts and opinions about each project that we’re working on knowing that he trusts me as a creative partner in that way. It can be challenging as an actor when you have thoughts and opinions on a project you’re working on because you don’t want to overstep any boundaries with the writer, director or other crew members. There can be an insecurity about that as an actor. So with this new role as a creative partner with Face to Face Films, I feel like I don’t have to apologize or feel guilty about stating my opinions knowing that Anthony actually wants to hear those things from me. Acting can sometimes make you feel like a puppet in a way, so it’s always a gift to work with someone who sees you as a full person and values your opinions and ideas. 

When people work together on artistic projects, it requires an aligned focus and passion. What is it about the two of you that makes for a great partnership?

Anthony: One of the main reasons I asked Casey to become a Creative Partner was because of her passion. When Casey and I first met about a year and a half ago, we immediately connected on the types of stories we wanted to tell and we both felt similarly about the ways we hoped to see women on screen and stage. 

A part of Face To Face that has always been important to me are the relationships of each of us working together. Casey is someone I consider a very close friend outside of work and it’s a privilege to work so closely with someone that you also have that connection with. That’s one thing I love about the company we’ve created, that we are surrounded by close friends in addition to having created a family environment, both in and outside of work.

In terms of acting, Casey is brave, resilient and has an incredible grasp on text. I recently wrote a new monologue for the play that we began workshopping. I had asked Casey to read it blindly, and she nailed every single nuance. I think she understands the way I write and can give every comma, and every word the desired effect I had intended without us having spoken about it. It’s rare to come across an actor who silently can understand and deliver your intentions so beautifully and effortlessly.

I think, for me, what makes us great partners is the way we listen to each other, trust each other, have each other’s backs and the way that, even in the midst of working on something so challenging, we can still find ways to laugh and challenge each other. As similar as our viewpoints are in work, we also differ on many things and that’s a big reason I wanted her as a partner. She consistently challenges me to think deeper about characters I’ve created and thought I knew, and the result is always electrifying.

Casey: We met over a year ago when I auditioned for a film of Anthony’s, and since we started working together it seems like we just felt a connection and a mutual understanding and respect for one another. It’s hard to explain because I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when our collaborative relationship also felt like a friendship, but when you feel like you can trust someone while doing such personal and vulnerable work you want to continue that partnership. We definitely end up on some pretty funny tangents while working together, but it’s knowing that we can do the work efficiently and also laugh and have a good time that makes the work environment so comfortable and effective. I know I’ve made comments or suggestions that I’d be too embarrassed or insecure to mention in other work environments and they actually ended up being suggestions that we’ve gone further with. It’s being able to trust one another that allows us to put forth ideas that might feel far-fetched in our minds but actually bring about so many other wonderful ideas

In reviewing the characters from the December run, what stood out to you both the most? What changes did you feel were necessary?

Anthony: I think we are still figuring out exactly what changes were necessary.  However, what stood out to me was the ways in which the audience was affected emotionally in certain parts of the show. I think there are particular moments, such as Cortney’s monologue in Act 2, Hayley’s monologue discussing her past (in Act 2 as well,) and the surprising revelations that the story has as it moves along, that have always packed a punch in the rehearsal room and we hoped the audience would feel what we felt. Yet, there were other moments that the audiences also became affected by in terms of Coury, Tabitha, and of course, Young Hayley, that allowed me to understand how people were connecting to other characters in addition to Hayley and that immediately became exciting for what I wanted to explore as the workshops progressed.

Casey: We have so much love for these characters so we really just wanted to dive further into who each person is and the relationships they have with one another and particularly with Hayley. We felt an importance in showcasing Dr. Watkin’s vulnerabilities more and how hard it is seeing your patients struggle. There’s also been a lot more to explore with Young Hayley, Pamela, and Cortney and I wanted to see more of Eve and Hayley’s friendship as well. Dixie’s character of the Singer as a hallucination has changed a bit, too, so I’m really excited about that. In shortening the length of the play, we also had to think about which character might be able to be combined with another one. That’s definitely been the hardest part of this process because we love them all so much. 

What takes place when a play is being workshopped? What do you hope to gain from it?

Anthony: Every workshop is different, depending on your desired end result.  Right now, the work being done with Hayley is helping to explore and bring out elements we haven’t seen yet, such as who she was outside of the hospital and what her hopes and dreams are that still reside in her.  We are also exploring scenes that will not exist in the play and are using those as exercises to help deepen certain relationships. Based on the current state of the world, we have moved everything to become virtual, so the workshop is also adapting to that, knowing that we are not able to do anything physically or in terms of blocking. This allows us to take a little more time around the table before we are ready to come back in the same room with each other. I think the gain will be in understanding these characters in ways we didn’t have the opportunity to before and, hopefully discovering new elements to work into the play that wouldn’t have been possible without this work.

Casey: Anthony has been writing scenes for each of us actors individually and we read through them, act them out, and feel out what’s working and what’s not. Anthony and I have also gone through the entire script and decided which scenes we feel could be omitted or are necessary to be kept in. It’s fun seeing new scenes mixed with the old and seeing these characters evolve. All I can hope for is that we’re continuing to tell an honest story that we really love about characters that we care a lot about and are continuing to protect the humanity of these characters as the story of the play evolves.

What was the most unexpected and exciting discovery from the limited run?

Anthony: For me, the most exciting part was the audience. Watching how differently they reacted each night and the different points of the play they connected to. I love watching these actors work every night and seeing how they adapt to different energy and how deeply the story affects them. It brings me to tears watching their dedication to each other and the story. Also, though it wasn’t unexpected because of her talent and LITERAL ADORABLENESS, the audience’s reaction to Alexandra Rooney, who plays Young Hayley, was really moving to me. She became such a central part of the story we were telling that I had hoped the audience understood the journey we were going for with showing the dichotomy of both Hayley’s, so I felt proud in the way that landed and touched people.

Casey: Honestly, what comes to mind was how much the cast and crew had each other’s backs during the December run. Not that I wasn’t expecting it at all, but the depth of it was a nice reassurance. On opening night I suddenly felt nauseous after intermission and when I had a brief second backstage, I let Sofia, our stage manager, know before running back on with a quick, “I might have to puke.” I was mentally preparing for a safe time to run to the toilet but when I went offstage the next time, Sofia had a garbage can and ginger ale at the ready. I didn’t puke, FYI. Another actor felt nauseous during a different performance and we just knew that the other actors would be ready to adlib if one of us ever needed to run offstage quickly. I think that support and bond was a weird little exciting discovery among the group that we have working together. Knowing that that trust is there makes the work we’re doing onstage ten times better because we feel supported and covered in case anything crazy happens during a performance. 

From the onset, through the limited run in December your relationship was strictly director and actor. With Casey’s move to Producer, how has that influenced working together?

Anthony: I think from the onset of when we began collaborating, Casey and I have always worked closely and exchanged ideas. Now, I think there is even more of a freedom to discuss and explore different areas that fall outside of just acting.  Casey is extremely well read and the ideas she puts forward come from a very intellectual place, in addition to an emotional and instinctual place. That’s been pretty exciting to me, getting to explore the ideas that we are both passionate about outside of just the themes we are dealing with in the current work. I think that informs us in how we want to develop what projects and characters excite as we think about creating future work together.

Casey: Being asked to move into a producer role has allowed me to feel more comfortable giving input and sharing my ideas and opinions. As an actor, you don’t want to overstep those boundaries, even though Anthony has always been very open about hearing ideas from his actors. We’ve been on the same page with pretty much everything that’s come up during the workshop so far, which is lucky.

For those of us who have never been through the process, what is it like working through this stage of a play’s life? What does an average day look like?

Anthony: At this stage, it’s a lot of talking and playing with scenes. I’ll write a scene and we will read it together, and start going bit by bit through it to discover intention and why we think it works or doesn’t work in the body of the play. Sometimes, we will revisit scenes that already exist in the play and discuss portions that may no longer fit with the new pages we’re creating. It’s a lot of back and forth as we slowly build parts of characters that the audiences will never see, but hopefully, will always feel.

Casey: The workshop is fun because each session where we’re working together, which now has to be virtually through FaceTime, Anthony has written new material for me to work on. It’s exciting to take these characters through new small adventures within the same world with each new scene we work on. We’re usually reading through new scenes, analysing the scenes and discussing how they would fit into the world of the play and where it might go in the script, which scene it could replace or be added to, and so on. Then, of course, we’ll take time to discuss production details–the producing side of things–such as theaters we’re looking at, our timeline and potential schedule for the fall, and so on

As a writer or actor, every character brings with them lessons that can carry over. You’ve both been immersed in the journey of Haley Jones for some time now. What has she taught you?

Anthony: Kindness and compassion. Hayley has grown into what Casey has developed her into and I always walk away with the lesson of compassion. She’s one of the bravest characters I’ve ever written and I think courage through kindness is what defines Hayley to me.

Casey: I’ve learned so much from Hayley. I think the biggest thing she’s taught me has been that we don’t have to be alone in whatever it is we are going through. Seeing how many audience members felt personal connections to the play, it felt like I was learning this more and more everyday as Hayley was. She’s also taught me more about self-acceptance and self-awareness than anyone I’ve ever known in real life, I think. Hayley does have an awareness of what’s going on with her mental health, even when it feels as if she’s lost control of it all. She’s also proven to me how important it is to accept what you’re going through and not be ashamed of who you are because you can’t move on until you’ve accepted wherever it is you’ve found yourself at the moment and can use that to learn from and grow even stronger as you move forward into the next phase of your life. No matter how scary that might be, it won’t be forever

You mentioned expanding the role of Young Haley. What inspired that choice and what can she add to the overall dynamic of the play?

Anthony: (SPOILER ALERT) The dynamic between Alexandra and Casey is fascinating to watch. The love they have for each other becomes very present on stage. Having dealt further with the sexual abuse that Hayley suffered, bringing Young Hayley to the forefront has allowed us to show the moment in her life before her innocence was taken away and how it effected the trajectory of the rest of her life. There’s a moment, a shift, and I think it happens whether we’ve experienced trauma or not, where we no longer look at the world through childlike eyes. Our responses become more measured, and we become more aware of how other people perceive us. I was really excited to further explore how Hayley has grown or been held back since that moment of trauma occurred.

Casey: Anthony’s addition of Young Hayley has been really effective, I think. It’s so heartbreaking seeing that divide between the carefree, playful nature of Hayley’s youth and the pain and hurt that Hayley is feeling trapped in as an adult. I think most people experience something that can quickly steal the naivete of youth right out from under their noses, and the feeling of that is universal even if we’ve blocked out whatever it was that made that happen for us. I think seeing Young Hayley can help audiences connect Hayley more with her full humanity rather than just viewing her as someone who has completely lost her mind, because she is still the same person as she was when she was young. She still has that beauty in her. She’s just working through some new circumstances.

Casey, given the sensitive nature of Hayley’s story, what kind of reaction did you receive from the audiences? 

Vivien (Cardone) hugged me before the curtain call one night and said, “Every single person in that audience is crying.” Some people were speechless because the play hit so many people pretty hard. Friends and strangers were coming up to me afterwards telling me how they each personally related to the story, whether it was themselves going through something similar or someone they love. A friend of mine said how good it felt to finally feel represented onstage in a story like this. After our final performance, I found myself hugging and crying with a young woman who I had never met before but I suddenly felt so close to. She said she finally felt seen and accepted. It was so powerful and I said to myself, “We can’t stop. We have to keep going.” People I had known for my entire life who saw the show were suddenly sharing very personal things with me that they had never opened up about before. It was very powerful to see how universal this topic really is and how many people it affected in various ways. 

Before we bring this interview to a close, I wondered if you could both speak to your hopes for the company, as well for the work you will create as collaborative partners?

Anthony: I am very excited for what the company has on its slate for the next couple of years. In addition to The Girl With the Red Hair having another couple of runs, we also have several web-series in development.  One of them, Kara, featuring Casey as the title character, deals with the effects of a school shooting survivor and the impact it has had on her mental health and relationships. We are also establishing a reading series with our company members in which we will put on readings of plays and screenplays, both produced and unproduced. Vivien Cardone, one of our Residents who plays Doctor Watkins, and I are also developing ideas for a web series in the  future and Samantha Yestrebsky, another Resident who plays Cortney and Azura, and I have also spoken about branching off the Azura character in other works.

I really enjoy writing for Casey and finding roles that intrigue the both of us and now, to have her on board as a CP, it feels even more invigorating to have her as a bigger part of the process and put out these plays, web-series and films that we both connect to so deeply.

Casey: I hope we can continue to create work that we care deeply about with people who have a similar love for the stories we want to tell and the humanity of the characters we want to convey through these projects. I just think it’s important to be telling the stories you really want to tell and are passionate about because when it comes from a place of love and care, no matter who sees it or where it gets shown, that is always the most rewarding work you will do and the work that makes you feel the most alive.


 

Day One: In which one is the day, and the day shall be one.

I am Captain Impossible. I am also highly caffeinated¹.

That could mean that I am the captain of impossible things, or that I am so impossible to deal with that I’m often found wearing a fancy hat and tugging at my cuffs as I comment on the breeze. I’ll leave that for you to decide.

Nevertheless, here I am, prepared to undertake a project that could be–might be–an impossible chore. Blogging my way through a book project sounds a bit like bludgeoning myself with a hammer just to see what will happen, or at what point I begin screaming Why am I doing this? But FUN FOR YOU! You get to witness it!

I may need to rework that simile. Then again, the whole point of this is to offer a raw, unedited look at the madness that is writering, so you get what you get. It’s my hammer. Don’t tell me what to do with it. I’ll turn this whole thing into a Three Stooges free-for-all quicker than you click your way clear and run from the room screaming why, why, oh Dear God, why is Shemp?

From left to right, I believe they are Writer, Plot and Story, but I could have them confused.

I didn’t want to have to say that, but you left me no choice.

Anyway, if you’ll please stop interrupting, I’ll continue. I was talking about the book I want to write. The working title is Specimen A. It’s Young Adult. It’s one of those speculative fiction/fantasy deals. Originally, it was supposed to be a straight up adult fantasy, but then my main character quit and I found this teenage girl who said she could nail it. And she did. Originally I figured the story would be a one-book ordeal. Then the story told me to screw off and expanded while I slept. This happens. If a writer ever tells you they knew exactly where the story was going from the moment they started, they’re lying. Damn things are like kids in a sugar factory, bouncing all over the place while you run after, arms wide, expecting they’ll bounce your way any moment. Nope. I can tell you where the story is showing me it wants to go now, but it may change its mind. It may have no choice, because some random back-story character will probably pop his head up on page 101 and say Hey, I’ve got something say, all right? And you’ll be all, The Hell you do. And he’ll be so What if I was a woman and married to that guy? And you’ll jump out of you chair and scare the bejeezus out of your cat because you’re like WTF man? Where’d you even come from anyway? And the story will pipe in with I’m good with it, just so you know. And that will pretty much be the end of your outline.

Writing, ladies and gentlemen.

So instead of a general fantasy, one book story with a forty-something year old protagonist, I have a Young Adult trilogy with a female teen as my lead, and, oh, the forty-something year old wants to know if there’s a smaller role he can accept because his agent said it would be good for his career. What a putz. Fine. Whatever. But he’ll probably die. If the story is so inclined. Book One is called The Progenitor. I think. Yes. I like it. Done.

There is, gratefully, a constant in this all. The story hasn’t departed from the original concept, and I’m fairly certain it won’t. The story remains the tale of a main character who discovers … something … about something and something and something happens to … something … or someone and something.

No it’s not. But writing these damn one-sentence synopsis is a frustrating thing. Just find a book on your shelf that you’ve read and know ok well. Summarize it in a sentence and make me want to read it. Not a run-on sentence either. Like 25 words or less. I’ve edited more synopsis than I have pages of actual books I have written.

Specimen A: A young girl discovers her ability to move through time is neither rare, nor unexpected, and leads to a revelation that will change her world forever.

25 words. Boom. Not happy with it, but it’ll do. I much prefer the fifty to hundred-word plus synopsis that allow a deeper crawl into the where the story is going.

I could take a different approach. One I would take if I were a bookseller rather than an author. In that case: Imagine you had the ability to travel through time, but you knew someone, or something, was watching you do it. They don’t like it. They want to find you. You’re pretty sure they want to kill you. So you try to keep your movements through time short, simple. A quick shot through a day of school, for instance, because you don’t want to see your best friend who you saw at the movies with the guy she knew you liked. Or to the night before because you want to study for the pop quiz you’re about to fail. Then you encounter a boy who has the same ability, only he isn’t trying to hide it. In fact, he’s quite reckless with it. Even worse: He moved into the future and found himself in a coffin, and he’s determined that he’s going to die in two days and the best he can tell is that it has something to do with you. However, his presence has awakened those that have been watching, and now they know your secret. They know what you can do, and if you don’t do something soon, the boy won’t be the only one who dies.

I’ll leave it there. As I’ve said before, I want to avoid spoiling the reveal of what is happening. At least until I write that bit. If the story lets me, that is. Ugh. Stories. Can’t live with ’em, can’t be a writer without ’em, amirite?

I have vowed to keep these posts around a thousand words or less, and with this sentence (technically, the footnote that follows, but, um, whatever) I have crossed that. So, that’s it for now. My next post will be after I write the first chapter, which may or may not be tomorrow, life depending. Might be Friday. Because, you know, you’re going to mark that on your calendar. But I’ll add a link to the entire chapter, and await the torrents of comments that will undoubtedly follow.

¹ Which is neither a by-product of, or leading to, previous or future statements, but rather a non-parenthetical aside lacking in necessary format and function to provide insight into much of anything except that I do, indeed, like coffee.

Charles in Charge and Writing Do Not Mix

Sometimes I’ll do anything I can to avoid writing. I’ll run from the computer like it’s a Charles in Charge reunion special. Reading, destroying brain cells on Facebook, over-managing my fantasy baseball teams, catching up on baseball news I already knew, Words With Friends, walks, shopping, driving, sitting on the patio like a grown man in time-out, harassing the cat … name it. It runs contrary to the idea writing is my passion, my life, I know, but I do it regardless. Not because I’m afraid to write. Rather, because I’m afraid to write badly.

On the surface it’s an absurd statement. It reeks of a failure in confidence. If you’re afraid to write, avoiding it for any reason, then perhaps writing isn’t for you, right? However, I don’t lack confidence in my writing. Though I’m no savant and have a great deal yet to learn, I’ve worked hard on my craft. Besides, Publisher’s Weekly thought well of me. Shouldn’t I? My issue, though, isn’t with my talent, or my ability to weave a compelling tale, or whether or not what I’m about to type will be pure crap. The ‘delete’ key takes care of that. If not, editing exists for a reason. What I’m afraid of is producing work that floats off into the ether like space debris: forgotten and forever to orbit in the dark vacuum of nothingness. Perhaps that means it was bad, perhaps it doesn’t. Sometimes you can feel so damned positive you’ve written something great–or at the least good–only to watch it wander into an uncaring world that as much notices it as avoids it altogether.

Maybe that doesn’t qualify it as bad, exactly, but as a writer it becomes difficult to separate good from bad when feedback is non-existent.  Sure, you get some words of encouragement from those who know you, or from other writers, or beta-readers, or even your Publisher/Editor/Agent. They like it. They praise you in widely generic ways. They might even specifically site an instance in your work they particularly liked. Which makes you smile. It makes you proud. It gives you that momentary feeling of heroic wonder. Then it becomes print, you talk about it through various social media portals, maybe you have some events, and you wait for the accolades and reader reviews. And wait. And wait. Ultimately, the silence invades your mind, leaving a gap in your defenses wide enough for an F5 tornado of doubt to plow a destructive path through your pristine landscape of ignorant bliss.

No matter how much you talk it up, nobody’s talking back. Your book sucks. It must. It has to. You re-read it. It doesn’t feel as sublime as the last time you looked it through. Are you no longer blind to the truth, or have you allowed silence and doubt to insert their impression in your head? What does that mean for your current manuscript? Should you suspend writing in order to review what you’ve written? Will this unedited piece of unfinished potential crap offer you insight as to why your recent work is failing? Or are you over-thinking it? Of course, you can go to your Publisher/Editor/Agent for advice, but they’ll tell you to cool your jets, this kind of thing happens all the time. But no, you think, this is happening to me. It wasn’t supposed to. My book was good.

Or was it?

It’s troubling to think all this can cross through the mind in a fraction of a second. Even more troubling, however, is the anticipation it can and might likely happen to your work-in-progress–before you’ve even finished it. You have constructed a fully viable, fully entrenched, vision of your manuscript’s future while it still doesn’t even know how it will end. The characters are gathering for an intervention and you’re in the corner wallowing about how nobody will ever care about anything you write. Ever. I suppose if I were a parent, I might better understand this, or how to cope with it. My cat doesn’t inspire worry. Her naps will always be quality naps.

So, I’ll stare at the computer screen, eyeing the open Internet tabs, finger ready to open Scrivener. I might read what I have to that point, if I haven’t wandered off already. Maybe pack the laptop and head out for coffee, read it there. Maybe take a drive to hunt for inspiration. It doesn’t happen all the time, and generally by the time I’ve begun typing, my fears have waned. My characters are at the forefront. I’m a God, moving pieces, orchestrating fates, divining obstacles. All is good. My work is good. My story is good. My book, so far, is good.

I’m a writer. I don’t write simply because I can. I write to entertain, to bring something to someone’s life they will enjoy and share. It’s narcissistic, cathartic, inspiring, and humbling. I like to imagine a God, creating a Universe, filling worlds with living creatures, molding paths, futures, destinies, holding arms to Heavens when the job is done, with a notable “Huh? Awesome, right?” expression. That God would be bummed if even the crickets went silent. I guess it’s okay for me to be as well.

I just need to keep writing.

Maybe a drive first, though.

The Peaceful Madness

A writer breeds madness.

Truthfully, this could be said of any artist. Any Creator. We are gods, after all, desperate to create worlds in which we’d much rather be, sculpting rules and destinies from the jagged peaks of our imagination, reforming the memories of our past and the hopes of our future into triumphant tales of heroic adventure. We write the code for the program, doing so with a reckless arrogance, ignoring reality in favor of the most favorable path to redemption. Not simply for our heroes, but for ourselves. And when we step away from our narcissistic free-for-all, we find bills, hunger, war, political mudslinging, and for many–loneliness beyond repair.

Something happens in the process that alters us forever. We begin to long for the worlds we created.  We begin to hunger to complete the stories, to enhance the landscapes, to better realize this fantastic scope through which we peer. Reality becomes less real. Fantasy more believable. Either word seems insufficient and life gets twisted somewhere in between. We find more time to stare through windows on scenes so far removed we appear to be catatonic, or angry, or one Sugar Snap away from inviting Dig ’em for a lengthy stay.

Our worlds live and breathe in our minds, taking on a life of their own; and though we see the world as perfect, the characters as family, we find the words lacking. Not simply because we doubt their ability to convey, or because they are insufficient or weak, but because they don’t breech the boundaries of space and time. They don’t open a portal to our worlds. They don’t allow us to escape. So we keep writing, we keep creating, we keep building, hoping to find something of our fantasy within the reality we are trapped.

We never do. Yet, the desperation is a madness we crave, the only place in which we truly find peace.

There are times I find this idea unsettling, depressing, an incurable infectious disease in which small pieces of my brain melt helplessly away by the day. Then I find things like this in my work:

“It is apparent to me now there is less between imagination and reality than I dared dream. I wonder at times if closing my eyes will be the end of me, or if I can never truly begin until the world fades to black. Therein lies the deceit of lightness and dark: They serve your need, or leave you mired in blindness, unable to distinguish truth from lie.”

And I realize my madness can manifest in beautiful ways. My characters can trumpet my words in ways I will never be able. My stories can bring civility to the war between the lightness and dark; and though I may never step foot in the worlds I create, I can give them life, hope, and a path to fulfillment. I can give them–with due struggle and pain–all that I want for myself. I will give them a life that pushes what they can handle, but allows them a heroic end. A Happily Ever After. I know their path through and through. I don’t know mine.

I can only hope, when my final second ticks and the clock draws into silence, I have left words that resonate. Words that, beyond belief, beyond the bounds of reality, have given life to worlds that will always be visited by eager minds. Perhaps then I will truly know peace.

So I write and I dream, and I hope that somewhere, in some world, there is someone writing my story, smiling at my ways, counting the days until I can be the hero I was created to be.