Staci Swedeen

I flew to Knoxville on May 14 for the opening night of a show my friend Jayne directed - "Forbidden Knoxville." It was filled with many clever references to local town politics and people, all set to well known show tunes. Of course, catchy songs have the damnedest way of burrowing into your brain and continuing to pulsate. I have to bite my lip to keep from bursting into "Suddenly Knoxville" - to the tune of "Suddenly Seymour" from Little Shop of Horrors. Wait - wait - no, okay, I think I've been able to resist the temptation. The pulse has passed.

On Saturday Jayne and I packed up her Plymouth and headed toward South Carolina to join her family at a beach house in Litchfield. We'll be here for the week. Both of us are working on large scale pieces. Truthfully, her's is larger - a rewrite of a novel...I'm hammering out a first draft of a large cast script for the Educational Center for the Arts. But it's so comforting having Jayne sitting beside me writing. Like macaroni and cheese for the muse. When I stop and see she's still typing away,I do another sentence. Or two. Sometimes three. And find myself just a bit further along the road. That feels good. It's almost enough to make me want to sing.