A New Hampshire native, Peter Papachronopoulos currently lives in Chicago and works as a staff writer in Groupon's Editorial department. A veteran sketch writer and performer and graduate of comedy programs at both Second City and The Annoyance, Peter loves to make with the jokes onstage. Though terribly named, Peter's "Pretentious Title That Makes You Hate This Play Before It Has Even Begun" was recently selected as a finalist for Stage Left's DrekFest 2012.
Peter on...
The ProcessMy writing is at its best when I’m struck by some inspiring character, story, or just a scrap of thought or line of dialog. Once the idea hits me, I stop whatever I’m doing as soon as I can and just write for as long as it takes me to get the idea fully onto paper or into my computer. If I don’t get it all down once it strikes, I almost always lose interest or energy for the idea. The duration of my frenzied writing sessions ranges from ten minutes to many hours long, at which time food and bathroom breaks are wishful thinking. I use this approach both for writing complete drafts of shorter pieces or chunks of longer works. Though I’ve been trying to get myself on a more regular schedule of writing at certain times of the day, I still find I produce my most strongest, most creative work during my often-manic writing bursts.
SatisfactionThe most satisfying thing about my writing occurs in those fragile times I have when I’m completely caught up in my writing and everything else fades away. In these times, which can be a moment or an hour long, I never delete, cross out, or pause. Everything I write just flows out of me. A lot of the time it’s nearly all words that will never come close to making the final draft, though wonderful bits and pieces shake out of my mind in these times, too. It’s just about the most relaxed and also most thrilled I can be, possibly because in these moments I’m the least self-aware. Once I realize my nose itches or I need to buy eggs, it all shatters around me. But when I’m writing something that inspires me with no self-awareness, that’s when I’m most fulfilled.
KnowingI still struggle with regarding writing as a viable career, mostly because I have not fully made it one yet. At least, not the writing I would prefer to do, for television or the stage. I’m a fulltime copywriter now, and though this is itself a form of creative writing, it is the kind that deadens the soul after too many years, and I can’t see myself doing it for too much longer. That said, I’m not giving up hope on a worthwhile writing career, and I’m actually more hopeful than I ever have been, despite that ridiculous, overly dramatic sentence I wrote right before this one. Thinking way, way back to the first works that inspired me to write, I’d have to say it was a childhood combination of The Simpsons, The Once and Future King, The Cosby Show, and Sure Thing by David Ives.
The First TimeIn college I joined a sketch comedy group that prided itself on staging absurdist comedy. The first sketch I wrote for the group had equal parts ninja assassin, James Bond villainy, freedom fighter uprising, and slapstick humor, with a heavy amount of satire revolving around my college’s legendary streak of booking terrible on-campus entertainment. I loved this piece, and still do, with all my heart, despite the fact that it was a terrible mess. Somehow, though, it got nearly nonstop laughs from the audience, most of which sprang from disbelief that such an elaborate and insane world was being built right before them in the span of about eight minutes. Hearing all the laughter was an incredible rush, and since then nothing about my work charges me up or makes me feel so delighted as when something I write elicits raucous laughter from its audience. Granted, raucous laughter is not the easiest thing to come by, and it might actually be the hardest thing to come by, but when it does happen, I know I’ve done right. There’s nothing better.
AdviceI most wish someone, preferably a kindly yet lively older teacher or professor, had taken me gently aside by the elbow and told me in a kind yet lively older voice that this shit is hard. And a lot of the time writing is something that will be impossible for me to do. Not because I don’t want to, but because I need to look for a job, or find a new place to live, or just get some sleep. And sometimes, yes, because I won’t want to write. Not at all. Not a single word. But that’s absolutely okay. No need to hate yourself because all you see when you imagine yourself writing is just you in a corner sobbing while an open notebook or computer mocks you and whatever you’re wearing that day. Because if you truly want to be a writer, that urge to write never fully goes away. It hangs out in the corners of your mind, like an eye floatie for your brain. And then at some point it just pops right back, dead center, and you can’t stop yourself from writing, no matter what you do. So, concludes my kindly yet lively teacher or professor, forgive yourself for the days when you can’t write, and you’ll be better prepared to take full advantage of those days when you can’t stop no matter what.
To read more of Peter's work, check out this hilarious blog.