a writing job

Today I met with the theatre lady regarding the nature of the project. How’s this for ironic? I've been commissioned to write a twenty minute script consisting of six vignettes about civil war-era characters and their lives centering around a plantation. To back the bus up, there’s this plantation near where I live that hosts a “ghost walk” every year on the grounds of the “Big House”. I’ll give you one guess who’s writing the script.

I’m anxious to get started because a) this is “living theatre” and very high visibility (over 1,000 people see it every year) for where I live and b) these crimson necked folks chose my negroid behind to write the script. How’s that for ironic? I get to write a scene between two slaves, Towerhill and Clem, who’d escaped for a short time before eventually being caught and returned. It’s only 2 minutes long, but I’m more excited to write that scene than anything ever in my life.

I talk mad shit about these small town theatre bastards, but networking with them has overall been more beneficial than harmful. Because of them, I got back into theatre (managing props, but whatever), landed voiceover work and now this opportunity to create a production on this scale. Yeah, these are the same ignorant bastards that asked me to be a freaking HOUSE SERVANT in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”, but after the smack down was laid, they knew where I was coming from.

So that’s where the afternoon finds me: panic attacks have subsided and I have been handed one of the biggest writing jobs of my career. And for the record: fuck the plantation. I just hope I can do Towerhill and Clem justice.