Crossing genres

Last year I wrote and published a novel (Cloudless, UWA Publishing).  Writing in another genre pushed me to think about what words do– what they’re for. Playwrights are architects, pitching blueprints to builders… And everything changes once time and space and bodies enter the picture. A play is a tight, time-bound bridge across a shifting river of audience attention.  It’s not done til it’s performed– not really.  A play is a call to action in the most fundamental way. Build me. Walk across me. Dance with me. 

 

That has its joys

Writing my novel was more like writing a love letter at midnight, setting it on fire, then casting it out the window.  Some solitary insomniac might see it flare in the dark and be comforted– like hearing another prisoner tap on the cell wall next to you   That quiet sound, just for you, says: you are not alone. 

You might be in middle school in Ohio- perhaps the only kid with purple hair for 1000 miles. You might be a lonely middle-aged woman with a frail parent and an angry teenager and a mean boss.  But in that little flicker of light on the page perhaps, in finding my book, you take heart.  Other worlds exist. Someone is out there.