I predicted the future and now have a useless canon of work.

When I was writing my thesis play for a class, or my thesis novel at Denison, or my thesis musical at NYU, I didn’t pretend to want to write anything other than speculative fiction. Dystopian sci-fi appeals to the exact spot where my right brain and left brain meet, both sides always vying for attention. Fictional characters and scenarios? Meet the cutting edge of science and technology.

Then 2020 happened. And back in March, before millions of people were dead and millions more were irreparably affected by COVID-19, before “two months in lockdown” became “indefinite", before we found new boiling points to reach every month, I started noticing something that seemed, at that ignorant time, almost comical. See, when you write speculative fiction, you want the scenarios to feel real enough to create a dialogue about the potential fate of our future, but fictional enough for people to actually enjoy this kind of thought experiment. But the stuff I predicted as nothing more than a “thought experiment” was starting to…well…happen. And I knew it wasn’t just me who saw these parallels. More than one friend would quip, “Hey, this reminds me of that thing you wrote.”

Cool. Cool cool cool.

Here’s an example.

One of my favorite plays I’ve written, “The Dark on Fire,” is about a family who has to stay inside due to the toxic environment, and their isolation slowly drives them insane. Their visitors come in masks, they have to disinfect everything frequently, they even kit a meal kit delivered! I wrote this around 2011. It was loosely inspired by the situation over in Cheshire, Ohio. But nowadays, Cheshire, Ohio would not be the first thing to come to mind.

Then there’s my thesis musical, which deals with censorship in books and how sometimes, some works should be censored when you’re talking about things written for children.

Or my novel, which is mostly about music in the future, but sits on a premise of renewable-energy-gone-wrong and using the destruction of art as a bargaining chip amongst nations. It seemed pretty safe from 2020… But whoops! What about that line about how wall street fell to hackers?

During the summer of 2020, there was a lot of talk about how media was going to handle the pandemic. Not just in terms of rules and regulations, but as subject matter. Nowadays, everyone feels desperate to get to a place where we can ignore it. We’ve lived it for a whole year. How long before we want to relive it at all?

The thing is, “COVID as drama” is not what people need right now, and it’s not what people will need a year, or two, or three years out from the pandemic. And even though I never sought to include current events from this time in my work, it just happened. It’s bound to if you’re keen on writing a realistic near-future. That’s the risk I took, and it’s the risk I’ll keep taking with this genre.

So what do I do now? Well, there’s one thing I’ve desperately needed in the media I consume: stories of hope. Not necessarily sports movie-levels of “the little guy winning,” but hope in humanity. Art that is reckless but not cynical. Creations that are reflective but not suffocating. Characters who show me how to overcome enormous disasters.

So maybe I shelve “The Dark on Fire” for a bit. That’s okay. I’ve refocused my lens onto another project of mine, “Captain Moriah’s Map of the World,” a steampunk kids show about three friends who make the most of their new and glorious world. It has its dark moments, sure, but they’re there to enhance the light. And I’ve found a community in Midnight Oil Collective, a group of individuals who are so different from me in so many ways but also desperate to create these stories that SHOUT hope, and who want to see little 2D Captain Moriah succeed as badly as I do.

And maybe the events of “Captain Moriah’s Map of the World” will happen next year and I’ll have to shelve that project, too. That’s okay. If my work isn’t bringing positivity to people, then I don’t want to share it. But I’m going to focus on hope, laughter, and imperfect people you still want to be around.

It’s my job to adapt. It’s my job to evolve.

"PIZZA THE MUSICAL" at the Museum of Pizza

Are you in the NYC area and love pizza? If so, check out the NYC Pizza Museum, a pop-up in Williamsburg dedicated to the world’s enthusiasm for this food. One of the rooms includes a screen playing short films on rotation. Working with director Anthony Clune, I contributed lyrics and composed the music for the film “Pizza the Musical,” a fun, goofy, extremely enthusiastic ode to pizza and the people who love it. ArtNet named “Pizza the Musical” one of the must-see attractions at the pop-up — especially flattering considering there are so many cool things to see there. ^_^

The Pizza Museum runs through November 18th, so hurry there if you’re interested!

"How to Cook a Soft-Boiled Egg" - A Short Horror Story

Recently, the folks at Creative Horror (via creepypasta-analysis podcast “Undercooked Analysis”) challenged listeners to write their best Ritual Pastas. I was thrilled to be named an Honorable Mention. Since only the winning stories were read on the podcast (which you can listen to here), they encouraged the other applicants to post their stories on the web for others to read. My entry is below. Thank you again to the judges!

How to Cook a Soft-Boiled Egg

You will need:

2 eggs

2 egg cups

Water

A potato peeler

Your oldest book

The Towel

Bread for toast (recommended)

Cook Time: 5-25 minutes

Step 1: Remember that you don't have any eggs.

Step 2: Go to the corner bodega to get some eggs. You will want to stop at Old Man Hummock's Home Goods Store, but don't do that.

Step 3: Remember that you don't have any money. 

Step 4: Wait for Yan to start ringing up Laney McBride's lottery tickets.

Step 5: Go to the back of the bodega where the off-brand Cheetos are on display and knock a jar of salsa onto the floor. This will cause the sleeping cat to run outside, which is essential, because the cat knows you're here.

Step 6: Steal the eggs, preferably Eggland's Best Land O' Lakes Large White, but any will do.

Step 7: Snag a loaf of bread on your way out, because you will think you have some, but you want to be sure.

Step 8: Return to your kitchen. Don't even THINK about looking at Old Man Hummock's Home Goods Store.

Step 9: Fill a small saucepan about 3/4s of the way full with tap water. If the water is rust-colored and smells like rotting grassroots, that's okay. You won't be eating the shell. It's what's on the inside that counts.

Step 10: Set the saucepan on the stove and turn the heat on high. You want the water to boil.

Step 11: Plug in your toaster. You will realize at this point that you did not grab a loaf of bread at the bodega, but a fistful of straws. This is okay.

Step 12: Unplug the toaster.

Step 13: Grab the oldest book you can find. If it's a 17th Century edition of Don Quixote, great! If it's John Green's A Fault in Our Stars, that's okay, too.

Step 14: When the water boils, set it to simmer and gently coax 2 eggs into the pot.

Step 15: Set your timer for 5 minutes.

Step 16: Open your book to any page with text. The center works best.

Step 17: Stand over the book with your potato peeler. Scrape the potato peeler along your body until something shaves off onto the book. It might take a while, but keep at it.

Step 18: Close the book.

Step 19: Ding! That's the timer! Turn off the heat and drain the water from the pot.

Step 20: Think about what he did.

Step 21: Pour cool water over the eggs.

Step 22: Think about what he did.

Step 23: Drain the cool water from the pot.

Step 24: Place The Towel on a flat surface with your bloodstains facing up.

Step 25: Place the book, straws, and egg cups on The Towel. If you don't have egg cups, then shot glasses or broken lightbulbs will do just fine. Lift The Towel's corners and tie them together, creating a secure bundle.

Step 26: Unhinge your jaw and place the eggs in your mouth. If your jaw cannot unhinge on its own, try using pliers to widen the space between the mandible and maxilla, or use scissors to cut through the Masseter muscle.

Step 27: With your Towel sack and mouth of eggs, make your way to Old Man Hummock's Home Goods Store.

Step 28: Open the book on the lawn. You will notice stains where your peeled flesh melted into the pages. This is the color your eyes would be if you were allowed to properly die.

Step 29: With your mouth full of eggs, recite all stained words backwards. Don't worry about pronunciation. It's an A for Effort!

Step 30: You will hear a scream from inside Old Man Hummock's Home Goods Store. This is exactly who you think it is. Enter the store with all possessions and follow the growing pool of blood to the shower curtains. You will see him on the floor, speared through with a shower rod. (The police will rule this as an accident.) Don’t be afraid of approaching the body. Unlike you, he has been allowed to fully cross over – but don't worry, you won't see him again!

Step 31: Scoop some of his blood into your egg cups, filling each about halfway.

Step 32: Place an egg in each egg cup.

Step 33: Traditionalists will balk at us here, but we swear by our method! Stab a straw into each egg. And if you’re still worried about the toast, hang tight. We've got plenty to spare. :)

Step 34: Drink from each straw.

Step 35: Cross over into the Land of the Dead and enjoy your nutritious breakfast treat!

"Lady Mercy" in Gallatin Theatre Troupe's "Uncharted"

I am so excited for Gallatin Theatre Troupe's upcoming cabaret, "Uncharted." This cabaret will include TWO ORCHESTRATED songs from "Lady Mercy," the full-length show I wrote and have continued to work on with Peter Hodgson. The two songs will be "Unstoppable" and "Buried Treasure"; if you know the show, you know these were the fan favorites. I've never heard them orchestrated before, and I am thrilled to hear what the Gallatin Troupe does with them! :D

If you would like to attend, it is APRIL 22, 2016 at 8:00pm and tickets are FREE. Please CLICK HERE for the Facebook page that has all of the event details.