The worse thing about writing a terrific first act – in this case, my new full length play, Love.Stop.Story – is trying to top yourself in the second act. The play seeks to explain why it’s sometimes difficult for black people to love each other romantically. Each act features the same couple in a different time period.
I’m going further than I’ve ever gone stylistically. It’s more than a little scary out here on this limb. The first act is very visceral. The second act is lyrical. The final act goes into Beckett territory. That’s right, I’m Waiting for Godot.
At the moment, the second act is giving me fits. The couple falls in love via letters. Autheticity, lyricism, romance. Much harder for me than I had thought. Looks like this play will make me grow as a person.