Alphabetical Writing Exercise
"Audience" is just a fancy word for a group of people you've forced and coerced and tricked into listening to and watching you, despite their better judgement, despite their flailing bank accounts, in spite of their overwhelming urge to run and leave in search of something less artsy fartsy, more raunchy, like a club called Bottoms Up with a waitress wonderfully named Chastity, trading a gilded theatre for sticky floors and neon lights with which somehow seem safer and more anonymous than a theatre full of sleepy patrons, all discovering their insomnia is suddenly cured but all all battling like Vikings to stay awake until the end, if only to join in the pseudo-intellectual lobby conversations to follow. Bottles of bourbon roll across your dressing room floor that night, a tinkling reminder of your lack of energy on stage. Creativity, it's a drug. Don't get addicted, but of course you already are. Even a drop, they say, can hook you for a lifetime. Forget family, fame, friends, finances and chase that next hit that'll never be as good as your first. Go out at night and twirl in the rain 'til inspiration strikes, because that's what artists do, right? Hole up inside your apartment with blankets and Mrs. Grass Soup because you, Madame Super Artist, are not impervious to germs. Ideas strike like mocking lightning , knowing that you're down for the count and can't even open your eyes to jot them down. Joke's on you, you laugh, 'cause you're a performer and your memory is a hard earned skill. Keep from crying when you realize you're full of shit.
TBC
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