But your news is not true.

Rosencrantz’s news is not only not true, I’m not sure that it is possible. Nor am I convinced that it would be desirable. As much as I admire the truth and long for it sometimes, I am grateful for the fiction of fiction. Theatre, while best when built on the foundation of some kind of truth, be it emotional or mythical or factual, requires a dose of the untrue to give it distance and shape.

Art gets made with the bending of truths into new forms, it takes the honest and makes it slightly less so. I am also grateful for the little dishonesties that grease the wheels of social interactions. The “You look greats and the “I really enjoyed your novel.” I would not want everyone to tell me how tired I look or how much work there still is to do on that book.

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