On Writing and Sticking it to the Man (or woman, as the case may be)

It's no secret that I feel incredibly fraudulent to be writing about playwriting when I have not yet had any of my work produced. But there is one incredibly liberating aspect to writing, whether you're a Pulitzer (or GG) award winner, or remain in the closet 'til the day you die: the world is full of people who are not on your side. Who, for whatever reason will randomly treat you like dirt and make you feel small. Maybe you have one such person in your life, maybe you have several. But, what's great about writing is, that not one of them can take that perfect turn of phrase, that sublime moment, or that exquisite character away from you. I suppose it's revenge, really. When someone hurts you, just get back at them by writing the best poem, novel, play, scene, whatever of your life. Perhaps no one will ever read it, or ever have the chance to appreciate it, but it's yours and it's great and no one, not even that shortsighted person who doesn't play well with others, can take that away with you.

Yes, I had a few bad experiences this week with some people. Okay, a person. I'm still not over it, but that's what's great about writing. I get to call the shots. That's pretty great in a world where I don't even control when I eat or go to the bathroom. Write on, my friends. Write on.

Dear Diary

I've started doing something I haven't done on a regular basis since I was about 10 years old: keep a journal. Here's the thing: What's something that everyone has either been through, about to go through or are currently putting their kids through? School! (or some facsimile thereof) Who is in one every day and has a thousand stories, observations and insights to share? Me!

So, I thought that since I have a sabbatical coming up next year that will afford me all kinds of time to write, I really should be jotting downs incidents and my reactions to them now, while I'm in the thick of it and it's all fresh.

If anyone finds this diary, it would be a catastrophe. After all, diaries are supposed to be unadulterated and unedited, for an audience of one, right? That's what makes them juicy. If it was the kind of diary other people could read without being astonished, it wouldn't be a very good diary.

Here's an excerpt:

March 30, 2011. Period 3 Socials. Again.

Handed out a worksheet. They like worksheets. They ask for them all the time. I don't mark worksheets. Why would I? All they are is copying out of a book, I don't know how it proves they know anything. They say they like the worksheets. I was just told, "Do you see how quiet it is in here?" But it is surprising (or not) to note how many of them don't even do these coveted work sheets. Can't be bothered.

Okay, so that wasn't exactly juicy. Seriously, the juicy entries can only surface to the world in a very surreptitious, oblique kind of a way where the guilty won't have a clue that the indictments of which I speak are about THEM! You'll have to come to my play when it's ready to really get the dirt.