"Express Tracks" The writing and journey of a new play

Writing a play is a complicated thing.  It is a combination of inspiration, timing, voices, story and character that all come together in the writer's mind and then, on the page to..hopefully..come to life on a stage.  My new play "Express Tracks", will have it's first open to the public staged reading on Monday, July 30th is the combination of all of those elements.  This is a play that was inspired by a trip on a train...one from Camden to Trenton ..as I travelled last winter.  On the train I saw people and heard voices that lent themselves to this story and...inspired me to seek answers to other questions of my own.  Questions of faith and feeling trapped and isolated in a world with open windows and sunlight.  These characters allowed me to dig deeper into their backgrounds and motivations and in doing that..ultimately...my own.  This world is complex and....this ride let me question my own world by exploring the world of strangers...people we see every day and pass by..or ..interact with. I wrote this play in the predawn hours of five mornings in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.  As I wrote lightning lit up the cove below me and the constant heat and humidity of June on the Mexican coast surrounded me.  These elements have now become a part of this work.  I invite you to the reading..to be a part of its first breath of life and to offer feedback...should you feel inspired. Director Dan Student has brought together an amazing, stellar cast on this particular Monday evening and we will be witness to their talent as "Express Tracks" comes to life in its earliest form.  SCTC wants to bring you into the process of creating theatre as well as being an audience member.  As we enter our eighth season we want to engage you even more into the process..and ..give you a theatrical home of your own.  Please come.   We begin at 7PM and it's free. 

A tree grows in Provincetown

Sitting on my deck...staring out onto O'Neill's tides and working on a rewrite for this coming season I stopped to take a break and...for a second...looked away from the harbor to see a tree..a very old one..on the lot next to me.  I say old because the top of the tree and all of it's branches were a snowy grey/white...but..below it the tree is as green and vibrant as...I can imagine....decades ago when it first sprung to like not far from the shadow of the Pilgrim's Monument.  I kept watching this tree and...saw the parallel to my own self..and my own life.  The grey on top of this tree did nothing to affect the life going on inside.  The green, heavily leafed branches were swaying in the cool breeze of an early afternoon in July.  The tree still felt the breeze...breathed in the sea air and was growing..just as it was since it's birth on a small hill in this historic cape town.  I thought it was an eerie parallel as I continue to work at my writing..constantly inspired by Tennessee's moon and O'Neill's lighthouse...the same this tree has bore witness to over the generations.  I found myself jealous....though...as this tree is rooted in the place I have grown to love the most in the world..a place where it will only leave by disease or by a tree surgeons saw.  The trees roots are here...and mine are 350 miles away.  So.....the need to lay new roots has become more and more clear to me...even as the gray/silver of my own becomes more visible and has now begun to overpower my hair's former hue.  We both feel the breeze and feel the sun here. We both have seen sunny days and many storms...but...for now...only one of us has permanent roots here.  The tide is changing below me...I see the water rising higher and higher to it's fmailiar spot convering our second deck step.  The tides are changing.