By John Lyle Belden

Write what you know. That’s the universal advice to writers, and some, like novelist Stephen King, turn the muse inward and pen stories about those who pen stories. As a longtime friend (though not as long as some) of playwright Casey Ross, I have seen her blinking cursor return – between indulgences in the silly or geeky – to the shadows of memory and the recrafting of friends made and lost into characters who are new, yet familiar.

She may even agree that the King reference is apt, as he and she both know that it is within the mind where true monsters lie. Bringing those beasties out into the light seemed to be one of the goals of the “Gallery” trilogy she introduced at IndyFringe almost two decades ago. From the start, she presented flawed people with flawed relationships in a way that reminds us that those aspects are baked into the hardware of humanity, not something to be blithely resolved in the third act.

With her most personal work, she lays bare the struggles of a playwright striving to understand their own art in “Bat in the Wind,” which has returned to the IndyFringe Theatre, this time on the more intimate Indy Eleven stage. Last August’s premiere during the 2023 IndyFringe Festival featured a script that was carefully trimmed down to Fringe-show length (under an hour). The updated Catalyst Repertory production, directed by Zachariah Stonerock and clocking in at about an hour and a half (no intermission), is restored, not padded out. Nothing feels extra, and motivations and conversations even gain clarity.

Matt Craft returns as Taylor, a 26-year-old writer who has found himself single, near broke, and suddenly without electricity. This on top of the fact that the prose that should be a brilliant play about the human condition just sits there lifeless on his laptop screen. But before he can attempt to remedy that, he must go next door to his duplex neighbor, Randy (Dane Rogers), a slovenly older man who appears to care about nothing but sustaining his alcoholism. The first thing he says at any conversation is a slurred, “You’re not mad at me, are you?” – in case there was something bad he said or did during a blackout.

The play is subtitled, “A Recent Study on Depression and Addiction,” which at first glance is a reference to poor Randy. However, it’s easy to sniff out your own kind, and in his more lucid moments, he reminds Taylor (and us) that our frustrated wordsmith is an addict as well – and he’s got it bad.

Like a drunk bargaining with his demons, Taylor thinks he has a way of getting his literary high with no danger of personal pain. To write about what he knows, creative folk, he makes the characters in his play photographers, not writers. (This puzzles Randy, but in this writer’s opinion it’s a tactic of distance, the creator always on the safe side of the camera, apart from any action or drama. I note this parenthetically in case Casey tells me I got it wrong.)

Taylor prides himself on being a keen observer, using parts of those he watches to bring truth to his fictional scenes. Randy calls him on treating people like musical instruments, “not everyone likes to be played!” This humbling moment passes, though, and Taylor makes a fragile promise to his “interesting” neighbor. But like a bottle or needle, the muse calls.

All this, in what is technically a dark comedy. Ross’s penchant for dialogue that feels natural yet has every phrase weighted with meaning also generates a surprising number of laughs. Rogers’ no-nonsense deadpan delivery helps immensely, with the real-life absurdity of dealing with someone who’s blotto without comic buffoonery. Randal Leach may be a drunk, but he must be respected.

Craft finds himself the butt of laughter just as often. His constant striving wins our sympathy, despite the fact that he’s morose and manic (the pot and occasional hits of coke don’t help) like someone perpetually treading water, unaware and in fear of how deep in he is. His months-long experience with the role fits him like a second skin.

I must note that, as those with low means tend to indulge in affordable vices, there is a large amount of smoking of lit stage cigarettes in this show. The language – true to Ms. Ross’s style – is as salty as ever.

Also, the ending feels like it lends itself to an unrevealed epilogue, or even a third act. Consider that part being after the lights go up and you are left sitting with your thoughts. Perhaps it’s when you return to see Catalyst’s remounting of “Gallery” this summer. Maybe it’s when you finally sit down to write your next masterpiece, the blinking cursor beckoning like an old habit.

“Bat in the Wind (Or a Recent Study on Depression & Addiction)” has performances March 8-10 and 15-17 at 719 E. St. Clair, Indianapolis. Get tickets at indyfringe.org, more info at catalystrepertory.org or the company Facebook page.