My Little Brother, the Playwright

Recently my brother came into town on business. He’s a playwright. And I admit I love saying that because he is my brother and he’s actually writing plays and getting them read or produced and being recognized for it. It is a tough thing to do being recognized among the sea of artists that exist in the world. So I’m very proud of him and the work he’s put into it. I admit to also being oddly perplexed by the awe this recognition garners from other people when I mention my brother is the playwright because again, he’s my brother and I used to bloody his nose and babysit him.


This visit to Chicago is actually probably the first time I’ve gotten to experience that odd juxtaposition. My little brother, the recognized playwright. Edith Can Shoot and Hit Things is one of his newest works. It was chosen out of many plays from up and coming minority playwrights to be read at the Victory Gardens Ignition Festival this year. I was very excited about this as I’ve not had a chance to see much of his work since he’s based in New York, I actually had suspicions when reading the synopsis of the play that it referenced our lives, and it was just great to be able to see him.

Distance keeps us from seeing each other much. And Lord knows I’m not the best at keeping in touch through phone calls and other connections. So I’m not the best at communicating that I love and care for my siblings. But they are most definitely a part of me. And when I do manage to see them or speak with them, I am more than happy that they are part of my life. And I’m glad that when we get together we get along so well. I do think a good part of that attachment is because we share a unique bond because of our experiences growing up. Which is not to say we’re the only people who have been through what we’ve been through, just that we were there together and it has had a profound effect upon our lives.

A good portion of the plot in Edith Can Shoot touched very much on that part of our lives. My brother literally pulled out some of the essence of what were his, my sister’s and my teenage/pre-teen years and squished it into a two hour play. They say the best writings you do are based on what you know and this proves it without a doubt. It’s a work in progress, needs a few tweaks and some of the actors could have been better, but overall the writing did very much express the emotions and drive of the characters. And I definitely felt for the brother and sister. I understood where their words and actions came from. I knew exactly what these kids were feeling. Because I was there. I had felt those same emotions, said and heard those same words. And it was weird. Good! But still weird. I was seeing our lives being played out on stage.

And I had to constantly remind myself while watching it and during the Q&A afterwards that the rest of the audience had no idea how personal this was to me. There were definitely distinct differences between our lives and that of the characters. For example, our mom isn’t dead. And there are other things, but I hesitate to mention them because it would be giving away plot. But the emotional base of our childhood was there. I found myself rolling my eyes and laughing quietly listening to the people’s responses of pity and worry for these kids and kept thinking “We turned out just fine.” At the same time the empathy was strong. There was one specific moment in the beginning of act two that really hit me and then by the end of it I did want to cry. So even though the audience’s responses made me chuckle, I also had to resist walking out because the emotions were too overwhelming.

I did cry, by the way. When the Q&A was over, my boyfriend came to me asked me if I was alright because I’m fairly sure the look on my face was expressing something not normal. I said yes I was fine and no, I want to cry and leaned on his shoulder and did.

I know. I’m biased. But it was a profoundly good play.