The Play’s The Thing
For reasons far too dull to go into, I need to write a play. Two, actually. And they need to be good.
I’ve written plays before, but these were absolute garbage, and this play has to be… well… not garbage. The problem? I don’t have a plot in mind. Back when I was writing garbage (in my early 20s), I had all kinds of fantanstical ideas for plots:
I know: I’ll write about a rodeo clown who’s a raging sex/heroin addict, and he meets this other sex/heroin addict, who’s also a midget, and they fall in love. And then they decide to go sober together. Only, once they’re no longer fellating goats and sticking syringes in their eyeballs, they find out that other than a certain satirical quality, they no longer have anything in common. Brilliant! It’ll be the next American Buffalo!
Now that I’ve decided not to write garbage anymore, I’m drawing a blank. There’s really nothing going on up there. Sometimes I think I have an idea, but then I realize it’s just the memory of an old Highway to Heaven episode popping up to mock me.
As it turns out, I’m not too proud to ask for help. If anybody out there has a great plot idea (think Pinter, not Hubbard) they’ve always wanted to see on the stage but have never had the talent to put on a page, let me know; I’ll put it on the page with even less talent than you would have. It’s really a golden opportunity for disappointment!
