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These days I write and perform sketch comedy with Spinkleteen. Also in the troupe: Adam, the unwritten epilogue to 'Self-Portrait in Discards'—such a happy ending that he’d sound phony on a Hollywood scale if I’d included him. You can reach me at lizbagby@hotmail.com.
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ust next to the windows of my study runs a power line, which bobs and sways occasionally with the furtive missions of squirrels. There’s no other view but the mottled brick of the building adjacent. I’m glad; the squirrels are distracting enough. I lapse too easily from writing into contemplating their wide-eyed, darting urgency.
I started writing and acting when I was too young to know the odds against succeeding at either activity. Even now I don’t quite believe the odds, or I assume they’re for other people, or else my definition of success has evolved—in any case, I’m still a writer, still an actor. Some three years ago I moved to Chicago for its marvelous, warm, creative theater community. Since then I’ve noticed a disproportionate amount of snow and ice creeping into my fiction and screenplays. I completed a novel last year and, in putting off revision of that manuscript, have nearly finished a second.
