Tonight, I left CH and his mom for the night, so that I could go to the Unknown Theater, and draw a prop and actors for the White Elephant Plays, a 48-Hour play festival, which I was asked to participate in after Brett Webster, the Unknown Play Project's director, attended a performance of Grown-Ups on the Playground.
The way it was staged, six directors brought along six, anonymous wrapped Christmas presents. We writers then had to choose a present, which would then inspire our 10-minute holiday-themed play. And whosever present we chose would also be the director of our play.
This was supposed to be an off-the-cuff, crazy experiment of a project. So of course I had been thinking about what I was going to write about for days. And I pretty much had it all figured out.
Then I opened my present and found a wine glass. With a lipstick stain on the rim – in other words, a prop I could in no way work into the plot I had already written out in my head.
My heart sank.
Dude, I’m fucked.
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