What would you write about?
Would a stream of conciseness suffice?
Today I saw a moving play, The Tin Woman, at our local Tabard Theatre. The story is simple, yet complex. A woman receives a heart transplant and meets the donor’s family (see http://www.thetinwoman.com/synopsis ). It’s not exactly an uplifting play even though there is a satisfying resolution. The play is well written, acted and staged. It’s moving to tears.
And asks those questions we don’t like to ask.
What if your life was saved by the tragic death of another?
What if your last words to your son were said in anger?
What if you family is slowly disintegrating in grief?
Why would a chance at a new life cause depression?
What if …
These questions never happen in thirty minutes and can’t be resolved in a two hour play. Life and death proceed in long periods of silence with momentary screams. A story can invoke old feelings, remind us of the memories of standing over our dying mothers, fathers … getting that call in the early morning hours.
As a young man I use to annoy my elders with the question, “What’s the meaning of life?” I was convinced there was a proper, correct answer to that question. Life had to mean something – there just had to have a purpose.
It’s the wrong question and it’s answer won’t change my life. I am. I’m here and I do. I feel and I ask questions in the time allowed. The trick is asking the right questions.
I am convinced that it’s in the questioning that we find the right path to follow.
And when our thirty minutes is up, we stop, and move on to the next thing.