Joe is a playwright, funny man, writer, and Brooklyn boy.

I should also mention that Joe is a staff writer here at Tawk of New Yawk. There’s a lot that I can say about him. To be honest, I’m not sure what’s more impressive about Joe, his brilliant writing prowess, or how genuine of a person he is. Every time I’ve read anything Joe’s written, I’ve felt both intimidated and inspired. A lot of people can write, I myself like to think that I can write, but this man can write. Throw any assignment at this guy and he knocks it out of the park. Trust me, I’ve done it and seen it!

But what’s even better about Joe, is his striking sincerity. It’s rare — truly rare. Having met Joe for the first time and then watching Joe meet other people for the first time, the same phenomenon happens over and over. People feel happy and relaxed around him. He just puts people at ease. He gives genuine hope for the future of the art of writing, but also, belief that real humanity and kindness still exists in the world and in New York City.

Joe’s been working on a play now for two years and some of us had the fortune to attend its first public reading.

Stephanie: How are you feeling after seeing your play performed for the first time? Are all of your feelings how you thought you’d be feeling?

Joe: Completely exposed. I’m currently in a fetal position in the corner of my bathroom. Kidding! Although only a little. Like anytime I’ve been fortunate to have what I’ve written performed, it’s a heady mix of emotions. In that sense, I’m not surprised. I knew it would be that. The overriding head space I’m in, however, is analytical. What worked? What didn’t work? Where were the mistakes? What can I improve? And on and on, on loop until the next time the play is performed in front of an audience. In this case opening night.

Stephanie: Can you best describe what it’s like hearing your words being performed aloud? Like, the first time you heard a group of actors read your script, what were you thinking and feeling?

Joe: It’s always filled with unexpected moments, which can make it all the more frightening. Of course, the flip side of fright is excitement. It’s funny though, I’m not sure the first time I ever heard a script of mine read was any different than every other time. It’s never not completely nerve-wracking and eye-opening all at once. I try my level best to detach myself from the material and just absorb it as anyone would. Which is impossible, but it’s the only approach that doesn’t have me jumping out of my skin in the room. With the upcoming month of rehearsals and three weeks of the show, however, I’m hoping it becomes as routine and mundane as possible. For my sanity.

Stephanie: That’s actually really solid advice. Although, yeah, it’s hard to kind of detach from your own creation! That’s you heart and soul out there! How’d you get into play writing? Has it always been a passion? Or did you fall into how most people fall into drugs, accidentally?

Joe: Drugs are accidents? I think every drug I’ve ever taken has been very much on purpose. I came to play writing late, not really taking it seriously until I was well into my twenties. I wasn’t a theater kid but I was always a comedy geek and a latent writer. I wanted to write funny, at first trying other avenues (stand up, sketch) before failing at those and pivoting towards plays. I started watching and reading all the great plays and playwrights that I could. I realized how much I love writing dialogue and how naturally I take to it. Whether the material actually works or not is always for other people to decide, but I feel very comfortable writing through people speaking. Once I got the play writing bug, I set off on the long, humbling, educational journey of practicing the craft that I’m still on today.

Stephanie:Yeah I agree, I think dialogue is the fun part of any creative writing endeavor! How do you find inspiration for your writing?

Joe: That’s the $37 question. The act of inspiration is still a very nebulous thing to me. What often feels like a lightning strike of brilliance can fizzle after a few hours. Likewise the ideas that don’t excite you at first can turn into a years-long commitment. Certainly things strike me as I’m walking or grocery shopping and I rush to my phone to get it down before it’s gone into the ether forever. But writing for me doesn’t so much feel like an inspired act as it does a compulsion. Maybe even a disorder? I need to feel inspired to do laundry. I don’t need inspiration to write. (Which probably makes me sound less sanitary than I really am).

Stephanie: The act of describing writing as a compulsion is so accurate. I know sometimes writing stresses me out and people are like then why do it? It’s like…I HAVE TO! So, how in particular did you conjure up the idea of Bringer of Doom?

Joe: No real-life events sparked it, at least not consciously, but at some point a seed of an idea came to me that wound up forming one of the bases of the story. It was just a concept that I thought was funny, could be funny, and could maybe extend into a narrative. I probably started on dozens of other ideas in the same manner around the same time, but whereas all those fell by the wayside this one just grew, until one day I looked up and there was a chunk of a play done. Interestingly, the original scene that began the venture – at the time the chronological beginning of the story – wound up being completely cut. Actually, is that interesting?

Stephanie: It’s very interesting! I wonder if that scene’s feelings are hurt. Alright, I’m not a comedy writer by any means so there’s something I’ve always wondered. How do you know when a joke will land with an audience? Do you kind of have to run your jokes through a filter or did you just go for it? I don’t know if anyone’s made you aware, but you’re not allowed to offend people now, even accidentally.

Joe: Sometimes it’s simple. But only sometimes. Sometimes a line makes you laugh, and if it does that, chances are other people will laugh at it too. The majority of the time, however, I have no idea. Once a comic line is released out of someone’s mouth and into the air, it’s left to fend for itself against a collection of individual brains at a certain moment in time. Performers themselves and stand-ups can control that outcome a little better, especially the good ones. But because my lines are filtered through an actor there’s always that natural bit of translation that makes the end result more uncertain. Sometimes it turns out better than you thought, sometimes worse. In the end, when I’m writing, I just try to trust my instincts and remind myself that a laugh has to be earned – it’s never given freely.

Stephanie: That’s a ridiculously amazing answer. I think the Dalai Lama needs to follow you around more. On the subject of humor, I don’t want to give anything away, but you’re clearly a fan of dark humor. Were there ever any reservations about going in that direction?

Joe: Honestly, no. Whether that’s wise or unwise is another question. I tend to shade towards darkness in my humor without realizing, and for some reason it’s a comfortable sandbox for me to play in. What that says about the underlying blackness of my soul, who knows? But I don’t really think of it as being “dark” anyway. I like to use humor to express almost anything, and that incidentally includes the morbid side of life. It’s also the old thing of using comedy to make sense of the world. And the world is messy. Existence is messy. And dark. And totally absurd.

Stephanie:It is messy and dark! So let’s shift gears and talk about, what’s the most exciting part about the play writing process?

Joe: I probably sound like a curmudgeon, but the “exciting” parts are few and far between. At least, for me. Not that they’re not totally rewarding. They generally come when what you’ve written is enjoyed by someone in some way. But so much of the play writing process is work, mental work, that I waver more between the two states of “oblivious-to-everything-immersion” and “decompression from oblivious-to-everything immersion.” Fun times, I know. Why do it then? Did I mention it could be a disorder?

Stephanie: Yeah. I imagine if your writing is something that you want to be performed in front of other people it has to feel more like work than fun times. I’ve vented to you about this before, we’re kind of both knee deep in diapers and Bluey. But for everyone else, how do you balance it all? Work, passion projects, family…

Joe: I feel like balance is the last thing I have. Between my two kids, earning an income, making art, every day feels like an adventure. And I don’t mean “adventure” like in a Lexus commercial. Probably closer to Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad? Okay, I exaggerate (slightly). The person I really marvel at is my amazing wife. How does she balance having a writer as a husband with being a working mother herself? I apologized to her the other day that I was a writer, probably for the millionth time. “Sorry I’m a writer, babe.” She told me to shut up.

Stephanie: I’ve never met her, but I can confirm that she’s a saint! What’s next for Joey boy?

Joe: Next? Jeez, whatever I have to do tomorrow. Keep on writing, keep on exploring ideas, see what comes of it. I am in the midst of writing another play, so hopefully I can get that done when Bringer of Doom/life allows. But you never know what’s coming, really. I don’t even know.

Get your tickets to Bringer of Doom here!