Truth be told, I’m in-between planets right now. The planet that I’m currently living on is full of simple, sturdy things that fit my soul. I live in a world of furniture, regular paychecks, planning for vacation, making a meal, trying to schedule date night with my wife, and occasionally seeing a Mets game with my son. This planet also includes theatre – seeing plays, bitching about plays, wearing a mask to see plays, seeing friends’ work – and it includes considerable landmass devoted to the Kingdom of Playwriting, with districts for my writers’ group, my laptop computer, my mentors and teachers, my rivals and friends, procrastination, hopes and dreams, minor breakthroughs, and major resistance. This planet is home. It is everything I can see in my ordinary consciousness. I suspect that it has everything I need to live a full and satisfying life. But there’s this other planet. This other planet is much harder to describe because I don't
