Pleasure.

I’m an artist because I’m a hedonist.

(Okay, there are other reasons, but this is the most practical. Art makes me happy. There! Done.)

There are few things I can think of that are more pleasurable than dressing up to attend your own play. Especially when it’s going really well. And, though any artist can hardly rely on this for validation or happiness, the critics really liked it and the audience does too and the theater is packed.

(Those few things include: sex, certain pleasures of travel, good dreams, good food, and the deep toe-curling thrill I feel when I know the writing is going well.)

Five shows left.