FEEDING THE CREATIVE BEAST

I just returned from a three-day old-time radio event known as the REPS (Radio Enthusiasts of Puget Sound) Showcase, held in Seattle, Washington. I look forward to this event every year in June. I give my time and efforts by preparing and directing recreations of classic radio shows for those fans in attendance and in return I get to feed my creative beast.

What do I mean by “creative beast”? Well, as any creative person knows, we are drawn—even compelled—to seek outlets for our artistic pursuits. Some are our main passions in life but some are also little joys that nourish us, make us happy, and keep us on an even keel.

We work to live. We do not live to work. Every person has bills to pay and obligations in life. But if we deny that thing inside of us that brings us creative joy and satisfaction, we run the very real risk of changing who we are. For example, I came to Los Angeles in 1990 to become a working actor. I did. But it was not on the level of regularity that would allow me to forego any other kind of work to pay my bills and raise my family. If I went too long between jobs as an actor I became surly and negative. No fun to be around. A gig would come—one scene, one day, one line—I like to say, and I would be filled with optimism and satisfaction. Then no acting job for a few months, and the cycle would repeat.

I have written before of the period when I was deeply depressed over the lack of success of my first feature film that I wrote, directed, and produced. I had gambled on jump-starting a regular acting-directing career and it had not worked. I saw that SPERDVAC (the Society to Preserve and Encourage Radio Drama, Variety And Comedy) was having a three-day convention at a hotel near LAX, close to where I live. So I sought solace in being around people who worked in, or were fans of, Old-Time Radio, a hobby of mine since I was quite young. Just being around those artists and friendly people buoyed my spirits and—even better—inspired me in a new direction.

Through a chain of events over the next few years, I met and interviewed many well-known radio personalities for a documentary film that is still my passion no matter how long it takes to complete. My connection with the radio legend (there is no other word for him) Norman Corwin, coupled with his 100^th birthday, led me to REPS in 2010. I was there with Norman. I interviewed him in front of an eager audience of attendees, I facilitated his book signed event there, and directed my very first radio recreation in his honor: a 1944 play he wrote called “Untitled.” One of the regular radio recreation directors there pulled me aside afterwards and said, while smiling conspiratorially, “You’re one of us now. There’s no going back.”

He was right. I was back the next year and the next, each year directing more shows and even acting in some. I got better at it and more confident. These trips to Seattle each year began with creative anxiety (Will this play work? Will the audience enjoy it? Will the actors respond to my direction?) and always ended with a calm sense of pride and accomplishment. And so I always return to Los Angeles, initially exhausted and spent, but re-energized, as if having been nourished with an elixir of artistic success and determination. I have fed my creative beast.

And so it is once again. I look forward to the creative future even as I reflect on the journey that has let me to this point. And it is the creative beast for me, and not the creative soul, that drives me. At first I was going to write about my creative soul until I acknowledged that, at least for me, it is a beast that drives me. I believe that my creative soul is the place where all of my artistic potential resides, but it is the beast that must be fed. It is the beast that demands that I not just dream, but act on those dreams. Otherwise, what remains is an angry, unfulfilled, bitter man with an ironically gentle artistic soul.

And what good is that?

I’m just saying…