Mining Tragic Histories

I awoke at 6am to the fire alarm in my building.  For a moment I contemplated rolling over and going back to sleep.  Instead I brushed my teeth, got dressed, put a hat on and set out for Atlantis.  By the time I got to the bottom of the stairs, the alarm was off.  Turns out someone burned toast.

Kind of a perfect metaphor for my morning.  I’m planning to dig up unhappy memories today and mine them for dramatic purposes.  Later today, Jazzy and I will be entering the SPC’s 24 hour playwriting competition.  She’ll be in the student category and I’ll be in the open.  I won the competition last time I entered and subsequent development led to some of the most satisfying moments of my writing career.

I feel like there’s been enough time between the unpleasant memories of my recent past and my perspective on them in the present.  I started by re-reading every email I ever received from her.  Yes, I still have them.  I’ll be going over old blog articles after this as well.  I already know that there are memories living between the words I wrote about those times.  The happy words take on a tragic hue when viewed through the lens of hindsight.  The sad words seem almost comical when viewed as a whole.

I still have lessons to learn from that history.  Heartbreak aside, she’s still a fascinating character.  Writing her will involve mentally walking myself through her shoes, figuring out what she wants, why she wants it, and why she can’t find it within herself to go out and get it.  I want the audience to fall in love with her, just as I once did.  I want them to laugh and I want them to cry.

The antagonist of this story will be my penis, played by a character named Richard.

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