It is maybe a TINY BIT NERVE WRACKING to return to your college town / college theater where you wrote your first play to watch a play that you wrote about the icky locked corners of your morality and consciousness, and by tiny bit, I mean  Chapel Hill now has four less bottles of white wine, and I actually almost leapt out of the car on the drive there.  BUT, swell news: not only is the Playmaker’s production of The Cake beautiful and a thing to be proud of,  I got to see it sandwiched between my sisters:

I met these two in the  drama department some 15 years ago, Blaine with her backless tank tops and Camino Real monologues, Carrie with her glorious singing voice and princess hair. Playwrights: a play SHOULD feel personal, to the point of burning self consciousness, but to protect yourself from those feelings while you watch your work, I highly recommend zipping yourself up in a sleeping bag of old friends, and watching from that safe place.