Y'all know that I'm a Netflix junkie. The range of material in its library never fails to surprise me. Lately, I've been on a history/documentary jag and they offer a lot of excellent material. I particularly enjoy PBS' American Experience Series which delves into the people and events that shaped our country -- from Dolly Madison to Roberto Clemente.
Last night I watched its tribute to Eugene O'Neill -- arguably the greatest of American playwrights with four Pulitzer Prizes and the Nobel Prize to his credit -- and my favorite playwright. I'm not certain why it practically tore my guts out but it did, so here I am writing this in the wee hours. Like most writers, O'Neill draws from his life experience -- and what a painful experience it was for him. The late sportswriter, Red Smith, said: "Writing is easy... just open a vein and bleed . . ." and if any of you have ever read O'Neill's autobiography-based "Long Day's Journey into Night", it will not surprise you that he was completely drained by the time he finished the book.
Why am I boring you with this? Because watching that documentary set off a bout of enlightenment and pain for me. It explained why I can't finish a lot of my writing projects or even talk about others. Will this epiphany make me face my demons? I don't know. What I do know is that knowing they are there is an excellent start.