I heard a metaphor once that described the process of performing a play as a big ass boulder at the top of a hill. You start the boulder rolling, and once it starts gaining speed, there's no way to stop it before it reaches the bottom (short of major disaster).
It's 9:36am, and I'm sitting in the Lounge at CHAC, surrounded by writers and directors discussing the plays they've written/selected, and it occurs to me that the boulder started rolling last night the moment the theme was pulled. It's about a fifth of the way down the hill and still gaining speed.
I should probably say something pithy here about the connection between writers and directors, and the bond that is created in the first conversation about a play, but all I can think about is the fact that I'm sitting in a room full of good-looking people. Especially those playwrights - these people barely slept last night, and they're still looking damn fine.
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