I can't tell you exactly how long ago it was (five to seven years?), and I can't tell you exactly why I was pondering about writing a ten minute play at the time. All I remember is where I was when I got the initial idea: I was driving north on San Mateo Boulevard away from my house, and as I sat waiting for the light to change at the Lomas intersection, a bizarre and amusing scenario popped into my head. What if someone had the job of guarding the dead?

As creative writers well know, once an idea entices the brain, there is no getting it out until a bit of scribbling on a pad or typing on the keyboard occurs. It may not even be a good idea, but the fact that the writer is finally motivated to construct dialogue on a page means it's worth doing. Without too much contemplation, I had what I considered a quality short play.

Two actors: Man & Guard. One massive prop: a gallows pole complete with dead body hanging at the edge. Pretty simple.

One conversation: the man becomes fascinated by the fact that someone actually has the job of guarding the dead. The guard takes his job seriously because it's his job. He must guard the body until it rots off the rope. Witty banter ensues until...

One ending: The man decides he should do something to aid the dead man. This causes the guard to beat the man unconscious, and the rope breaks on the dangling dead man. Now two men lie helpless on the ground with the guard in between them, and the guard closes with the line "Great, now how are people supposed to know who the example is?"

"Clever stuff," the young playwright said to himself. "Easy to put on, funny, poignant, and only ten minutes long. I shall call it The Hangman." Of course, the curse of any play is that it isn't really a play until it gets produced. Forgive me for saying this as well, but a playwright isn't really a playwright until one their plays graces a stage.

"The Hangman" made its rounds in local and national playwriting contests, but the constant ten dollar submission checks to playhouses across America bore no fruit. The Hangman found no home. Even when I was part of running a theatre, I passed around my two full length and half dozen brief plays and received varying levels of response. I liked this one, this one was weird, what made you come up with this, and so on. What never happened is someone saying "We must do this or die trying!" My years at the theatre actually jaded me on trying to be a playwright anymore.

A half year after I left my board position at the theatre, the Vortex had a Quickies playwriting contest. I looked at my old quick scripts, did some slight edits and selected three to submit. "The Hangman" was shortened to just "Hangman" (genius!), and to my surprise, it was selected as one of the eight Quickies. I will receive 26 glorious dollars for selection. I had no contact with the production, but I was more than content just to sit back and watch the finished play.

Last Friday, I sat in the front row for the Quickies on Opening Night. "Hangman" was the first play on the bill (truly an honor in itself), and during the pre-show, my guard was already in character keeping everyone away from the hanging dead. I wanted to be anxious with that opening night anticipation that comes with directing and acting, but it just never came as the playwright. I kept joking that I was nervous with the calmest of tones although the whole thing felt far out of my hands. Before I knew it, the play went up and I was watching and listening to words I wrote years ago.

Even with a couple slip ups, "Hangman" succeeded in the most important way: it caused reactions in the crowd. They laughed at the jokes, they scoffed at the twisted moments, and they applauded at the end. In my view, "Hangman" wasn't the best production of the eight, but it was far from the bottom of the barrel. Best of all, it put a smile on my face.

I can barely remember the part of me that wrote plays with a passion. What ever happened to him? I'm now knee deep in rock n' roll song lyrics and learning to play the bass. Inspiration and recognition don't always connect at the same time, but I can say without any reservations that I am now a playwright. Finally!

Chris Jungle fully expects another of his plays to be produced in the next five to seven years.