The "Cowardly" Deed Is Done

Well, my entry for the Noel Coward Prize is on its way to New York. Amazing how so much of my work has made it there before I have. Maybe someday.

But it better be soon, I suspect ...

Anyway, it always feels good once a script has been mailed or a resume sent. It's nice to have active stuff "out there". Makes me feel a little more validated as a writer and jobseeker.

The only thing that makes me feel even more like a writer is when I finish a work. Then I usually go out and have a little celebratory pizza. I smile as I think about my private little accomplishment and then I think: So what next?

Like my friend the shark (see earlier post), I realize I have to just keep going. You throw enough darts and one of them is bound to hit the target. I've never ...

Good God, how many metaphors can I put in a single paragraph?

Moving on.

So I'm getting ready for my second round of auditions for The Poptimists on August 29th. And for some reason I'm hustling on getting the word out more than I usually do. I went to a show last night and gave out audition info to a few prospective cast members.

I'm a terrible salesman (just ask about 20 ex-Star Trek producers and writers I pitched to at Paramount), so I don't know just where this burst of marketing energy is coming from. Likewise, while I enjoy hearing about praise for my work, I generally try to avoid getting the compliments face-to-face. The writer in me wants to stand off to the side and observe, not be a participant.

Must be the part of me that comes from Switzerland. Mr. Neutrality.

So I'm baffled by my sudden little burst of enthusiasm.

My best guess is: fear. Fear of not getting the cast I want, therefore not the show I want, therefore not doing the most I can to guarantee the audience the best show possible. I feel overwhelming pressure to make sure everyone who spends even a dime on seeing my show feels they haven't wasted their time or money.

I know what it's like going to see a show and feeling "Well, that's three hours I'll never get back." I am absolutely terrified of causing that same feeling in anyone seeing my work.

So I'll enjoy this little passion aberration. Like the surfer, I won't question where the wave came from, I'll just ride it as long as I can.

Okay. Now that's three sucky metaphors in the same post ... actually, two metaphors and one simile. Damn my knowledge of these literary terms!

So I've mailed in my Noel Coward Prize entry. And I've eaten my pizza.

So what next?

Oh, yeah ... that little show I'm doing in December ...