Cigarette Stories

The Extraordinarily Tortured Writers’ Guild of Literary Intent (aka, our writers’ group) are just about damn near solidifying the production of putting stories on stage from our raconteurs revolving around the theme of “Love Sucks”. Justin and I put the notion in each other’s heads over some beers at Hamilton’s by reminiscing about our long lost performance days (maybe not so lost after all, eh?) and before you know it we were getting down to business of making a night of live storytelling to an audience.

This past Sunday we had a great rehearsal from the five writers/storytellers that we have from the ETWGLI thus far: me, Justin, Sam, Melissa, and our newbie, April. Each had their unique voice, each had their own perspective, and each was a story that sounded like it would come from a professional, on stage with a mike and beer in hand to tell you about “that one time”.

While not the official name, I’d like to call this night “Cigarette Stories”--ones that can be told in the time it takes for any hipster to suck down a cancer stick. Really, that’s about as much time as you have for anyone these days. Don’t know quite how movies are getting away with being longer, as are a lot of popular books, but you don’t need me rehashing my thoughts about theatre on its deathbed. This is not theater, but it’s not that far off either.

Justin told me today that our second venue choice (okay, more like third) has been confirmed. Right location, right price for sure. What worries me is the venue itself has a kind of…oh, I don’t know…amateur aspect to it. And not in the filthy, grimy way that something like a CBGBs would have. More like a room with some half-assed efforts of art and little-to-no lighting. It resurrects worries about the days Scott and I housed 3.2 Improv shows at the local LGBT Center in Salt Lake where their “theater” was more like a “garage” that you could do “nothing” with all the time. We had a couple of good shows, but getting that thing prepped was a massive effort and rarely worth the manpower when our till would ring up empty by the nights end.

I really want this to work.

More so, I want it to work for our friends, family, and the guy on the street. I want this thing to be THE thing and not a one-night wonder for people to vaguely recall in drinking stories down the line…though there is a bit of irony to that. I think we can blow the roof off this thing and really make it succeed because it’s an honest to god good way to feel alive and vibrant…as an artist, as a writer, and as a performer.

More details to come.