I’m in a beautiful hotel room in Fairfax, Virginia, attending the first Dramatists Guild National Conference. I thought it would be a nice professional investment, as well as a chance to meet playwrights from across the country. Who are they? What do they look like? How do they move in space? What do they eat for breakfast?

The program last night included talks from Christopher Durang (the glowing figure on the right) and Molly Smith. I was moved and delighted by both. I spotted them afterwards, mixing with hoi polloi, and so badly wanted to introduce myself and my work and have long lovely talks with (what clearly are) fascinating people. But how to approach in a way that’s responsible and respectful? I’m not sure. Cold-approaching just feels wrong.

I decided to leave it. I went out to an Indian restaurant and placed a take-out order to take back to my hotel room. Then a woman came in who I recognized from the conference and we ended up having dinner there in the restaurant together and, in fact, exactly the long lovely conversation I’d been craving. The woman turned out to be this badass artist. As far as I’m concerned, this trip is already worth it.