Good old Friday morning is here. I showed up a little past nine to find pairs of writers and directors huddled together talkin' shop.
INTERJECTION: Ms. Darian Lindle, a virgin writer, just came up to me. The conversation went a little something like this:
Darian: Hi Erin.
Erin: Hi Darian. How are you?
Darian: Oh. Um. I think my director is a little scared.
Erin: Oh no! Why?
Darian: Well...he's the only one reading still...
Erin: How'd it go last night for ya?
Darian: Not, uh...not great. I couldn't decide what to write about. I wrote the beginnings of four different plays. Then finally settled on one, and called it Craptastic. (I don't know if she was serious or not, but I actually love that as a title for some reason. Craptastic, this Friday, one night only!) Then I went to bed, woke up, and wrote something totally different. (Craptastic: Cancelled until further notice) So I don't know...I don't uh...Well hey! You don't have to act in it.
Well, that's true. I tell her, maybe it's not that bad. And even if it is crap, the director and the actors might turn it into crapgold, and perhaps, just PERHAPS, make it the best darn 14/48 play ever.
You never know in this setting.