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 The original draft of Passing Wind languished in a file drawer in my garage for over forty years. When I finally recovered it and perused its pages, a stark realization slammed into my brain: I am a much better writer today than I was in my twenties. My dramaturgic take at that time lacked a thematic arc, and the personae in my dramatis behaved inconsistently within their own world. I was chasing jokes at the expense of character and structure.
In a farce, even though the situations and dialogue may be absurd, the writer must create a distinct and consistent set of behavioral rules to which the characters are bound, allowing the audience to fully accept the madness. While my first draft was not yet fully developed, it possessed an abundance of elements that intrigued me. Much of it I had forgotten, but many of those pages still made me laugh. So, while retaining that original framework and core conceit, I decided to perform a page-one rewrite. This wasn't merely cosmetic surgery ("I want to keep my nose, but my lips could use some butt fat"), but something more akin to a Dr. Frankenstein operation: “I have the cadaver –- now get me a brain!”
I think about him from time to time -- that twenty-something kid at the typewriter wondering if those keys on which he's pounding away are creating moments worthy of an audience. He can now rest at ease, as those moments manifest in this World Premiere of a play that we both worked on across decades. "Relax, kid, I've got your back!"
I dedicate this play to him -- that kid -- my younger self. After all, how often do we have an opportunity to partake in trans-temperal collaboration?
We both hope you enjoy it.
-- Braddon
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