"My unemployment dragged on for a year, half bad economy, half lack of ambition. Twelve Shakespeare plays. The very idea of having another play to read kept me going from month to month. Sure, I might not have been able to pay my mortgage or eat anything other than spaghetti for weeks on end, but once a month I could lament the loss of my Juliet and then drink a vial of poison. Or, as Henry V, I could return to England, where ne’er from France arrived more happy men. In comparison to Romeo and Prince Hal, I didn’t really have that many problems. My depression began to lift, and I started sitting at my desk more often, calling and emailing people, looking for work."

Read more: DG Strong, Salon.com