I Cannot Tell A Lie

It’s done.

A rough first draft of Norwegians is complete. But folks, it’s bad. So bad. I know how I want to reapproach it, but after seeing the full script I don’t know if it’s worth it.

I still have a full-length to work on, but what about my hypothetical evening of short plays? I’ll either toughen up my Ibsen or perhaps revive an old idea I had—about George Washington?

If the George Washington play is real, I still don’t know if it would be able to lead into Philosopher Kings and then into Menage a Sartre. The idea I have is straight out of Stan Freberg by way of Gracie Allen. An audience for this material might not be receptive to an orgy in the second act.

Surprisingly, adding sex and violence to Ibsen was the easiest part about Norwegians. I’ll take my victories where I can get them.

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