I write about the ends of things. In this day and age, I can’t think of anything more appropriate: the end of love, of life, of family, of this world and reality we know and live in.
My works thus far all deal with how things fall apart. For instance, at the beginning of the pandemic, I was struck by how suddenly my priorities drastically shifted. I wrote a ten-minute called “But Did I Leave the Oven On?”, about two strangers, stuck together in chaos, suddenly faced with what they find important and how to move on from communal tragedy. Along the way, they struggle with how things end, for themselves and their world. My most recent piece is entitled “Why Our Dads Need Therapy”, and was developed after interviewing friends and loved ones about their relationships with their Dads. It’s a series of vignettes, some in reality, some not, and fantastical multi-media pieces exploring the generation of Dads that were taught not to talk about their feelings, and how that’s ruined them and their kids. It dives into the end of relationships, the inevitable death of love and how that’s all that matters. My favorite piece thus far is entitled “Dirty Dirty”, which was written immediately after I turned 30. A group of friends goes away for one of their 30th birthday, and what starts as a celebration turns deadly. When the birthday boy announces he has a terminal disease, and produces a gun along with an ultimatum, the rest of the group has to come to terms with life, death, choice, and the difficulty of turning thirty.
I suppose you could call my work “death-obsessed”, but I’m not sure that’s the case. I think I love the end of things, because I can’t get it out of my teeth. The end reflects back to me some small part of myself. Sometimes that takes form as a character, or a sentence of dialogue, or a stage direction. But I find myself in these final moments. So I write plays about it. At this point in my career, I’m writing for myself; for my examination and my own growth. That doesn’t necessarily mean people can’t relate, in fact, I think they can more so. People who have read my drafts have said that I’m relatable, approachable. And have reflected that the ends of things mean something to them as well. And that’s what I look for when I read or see theatre. I want universality, something I can find myself in. I believe that this struggle is reflected in my works thus far.
In the future, and with every new draft I write, I hope to continue to hone my skills, and challenge what drives my work. How can the ends justify the means, if the means lose their value at the end of it all? I don’t believe it’s fatalistic or even depressing. In fact, I think it’s healthy to explore our own mortality, in whatever form that takes. We’ve all been faced with the challenge of how our systems, our society, our world can come crashing down at any moment. Why not dive into what we are beyond that? Why not explore what happens next? I want to be so much more as a writer, and reflect ideas that this ever-shifting world reflects. To get there, I’ll keep exploring the end of things, the mundaneness of it all, and what happens when we know we’re out of time.