Sunday, April 12, 2020


It's been over two years since I last contributed to this little chronicle.

Two years is a Schrodinger thing; it's both a long time and not a long time, sameultimeously.

When last I wrote, I was about to embark upon a small run of a one-hander about Sherlock Holmes, called SHERLOCK HOLMES AT TWILIGHT.  That was February of 2018, and yeah, I did that.  About 30 people saw it.  It was a challenge.  It was exhausting.

And it gave birth to a thing called The TruNorth Theatre, now in it's somewhat stalled Third Season.  It's been a creative dream, and a financial nightmare; there's a hole in the middle of the stage where we regularly just throw money...but the work that goes UPON that stage has been pretty decent, if I do say so myself.

I wrote that script, as well as an radio play adaptation of H. G. Wells' WAR OF THE WORLDS, which was actually an adaptation of an adaptation I wrote for another company back in 199-something; and a few months ago, I finished another one, called THE FOOL OF THE WORLD AND THE FLYING SHIP, based upon an old Russian folk-tale that I read when my Uncle Tom gave me the book way back when....I still have the book, by the way.  That play will make it's debut (without me acting or directing) in December of this year, assuming we don't all just fall down on the ground.

Since 2018, I've had three plays produced (by my own company, how else?), and two short stories which were published in a Christmas Annual sponsored by The Norwegian Explorers of Minnesota, a Sherlock Holmes scion society to which I'm honored to belong.

I've got outlines for two other things; and I save them for the two weeks I spend at the cabin in the middle of the Mitten, so I can sit on the porch and listen to the river and write.  If I had my druthers, I would do that.  ALL the time.

So, there's a lot of writing that is happening away from this particular chronicle; which would explain why I haven't been here for awhile.

And here we are, near the end of the beginning of our International nightmare that was, as legend will have it, brought on by the ingestion of an undercooked bat.  And with the stress and schedule that comes with an 'essential' position, I neared a breakdown and took some time, you would think that I would have all this time to write.

And stress brings writer's block.  And I don't really have the patience (right now) to write through it.

So, I sit in a comfy chair next to an electric fire, I light a candle and I read a buttload of plays to determine what challenges the TruNorth Theatre will accept for Season 4.

And I'll try to get back here more often, to vent and reminisce.