Of late, I’ve found myself taking “genre” forms–such a film noir–and twisting them into…well, something else, as theatre pieces. I don’t know where this has been coming from…maybe I’ve been running out of ideas of my own. Anyway, the last half year, I’ve been laboring on “The Rewrite Man” which takes on the spy genre (kind of a Bond pastiche of a Phil Dick story as written by LeCarre…which bends my mind and I wrote the mother). It’s been fun, but I can’t remember writing a piece in so many fragments; so it’s likely a mess. What the hell…it’s always vaguely satisfying to finish something, even if you know the work’s just started. It was also kind of nice to dedicate the play to my gently dashing father, who worked rewrite for Associated Press in the 1950s…as, coincidentally, does the play’s gently dashing protagonist. I kind of felt like I had him watching over my shoulder, a vaguely bemused smile on his face.