As you may know from reading the Beehive the past two years, I've been on the Rogue beat, doing video reports and reviewing shows. But I can't do that this year, because there's a little thing journalists have called "a conflict of interest."

When that arises, we (like judges) must recuse ourselves from our otherwise objective roles in our form of public service. And this year, I most certainly have a vested interest in the success of the Rogue Festival.

That's because I am part of the team that conceived, wrote, directed and workshopped the original play "Shakespeare Is an Idiot." Oh, and I'm performing in the show as a member of the ensemble.

That's right -- I'm in the Rogue, baby!

While I hope you all come see it (after all, the performers pocket all the door money), I'm not allowed to use this space to advertise. Rather, I'm here to share my firsthand experiences from the other side.

The following is an essay of sorts describing my involvement in the Rogue and what the festival means to me. (If you get bored, feel free to stop reading.) Also, Rogue performers: If you'd like to share your Rogue experiences with the Beehive's readers, feel free to email me or leave a comment below.

Why I decided to do a Rogue show

When I moved here four years ago, I was seeking out things to do in town. And like many people who complain "there's nothing to do in Fresno," I echoed those sentiments. But then I went to a Rogue show (it helps that I worked for the features section of The Fresno Bee; otherwise I may never have heard of it), and I was amazed. I sat there in the Starline, looking at this diverse audience enjoying a man rapping about The Canterbury Tales, and it was obvious that I suddenly was a part of something special.

My hometown of Tampa, Fla., is a bigger city than Fresno, and yet there was nothing like this back home. Before I entered a career in journalism, I wanted to be an actor. However, my avenues for performing were limited to traditional community theater. Even when I went out for a play here a couple of years ago, it was for a Good Company Players production of "Barefoot in the Park." We were committed to about 30 performances over two months, not to mention just as much rehearsal time.

For someone with a full-time job in a specialized field, the prospect of devoting that much time again is daunting. I was happy to do it, but I ended it with saying, "Well, that's the last play I'll ever do." I didn't have the time.

But the Rogue changes your perspective about things. There are almost 100 acts in about 20 venues, all within a few blocks of one another. The run is two weeks, not two months.

For someone itching to perform, the Rogue is doable.

How my Rogue show came to be

The inspiration, at least for the title, comes from something I said after seeing "Romeo and Juliet" at the Woodward Shakespeare Festival a couple of years ago. Now, I had seen the play before, including film versions, but until that night I never questioned what could be considered to be a central flaw in the plot. (You'll have to pay 5 bucks to learn what that question is.) That's when I first said the words "Shakespeare is an idiot."

He's not really, by the way. It's just something funny to say. But getting from saying something funny to producing a 45-minute play, complete with plot and characters, was something I'm not creative enough to do on my own. So when my buddy Josh Tehee, who works for The Bee's custom publications department, mentioned to me over lunch that he wanted to do a Rogue show, it hit me: "Shakespeare Is an Idiot" could be a Rogue show.

Like me, Josh did drama in high school, and some theater in college, so we were coming from the same place. We sat down and talked theater and Shakespeare for a while, and we came up with possible flaws in other Shakespeare plays. We had the title down, so the idea was to build upon it. We discussed doing a variety show format that would talk directly to the audience to present an argument. But we agreed that would be boring. Then we kicked around the notion that a heckler would interrupt actors performing Shakespeare. Too limiting.

But we discussed what we liked about the Rogue, and it was the theater aspect. The other types of Rogue acts -- solo shows, sketch comedy, belly dancing -- are great fun, but we wanted to do an actual play. So we wrote one. The play is all about Shakespeare, and there are references to his life and lore, in addition to the tragedies you studied in high school. Because we get into "Romeo and Juliet," "Hamlet," "Macbeth" and "Othello," we are setting the play in a high school classroom.

We are no longer 'talkers'; we're 'doers'

Finally, after quite a few revisions, going back and forth, and getting close to not actually doing it, October arrived and we had to commit to applying for a mainstage Rogue show.

It was the moment of truth. Would we throw away all the work, and chalk up our lunches that spanned months to just good conversation? Or, would Josh and I take a chance on this thing, and actually follow through with something in our lives?

I dusted off my wife's American Express card, and forked over the $275 application fee.

That's it. We're doing it. We can't back out now.

And so I contacted some actors I had worked with at Good Company Players, and we all met for the first read-through in December. I had first got their commitment back in May of 2007, but it was always a pipe dream until we paid the money. So there we are (Renee Newlove, Sam Frank, Josh, me, my wife), in Starline Grill, huddled around a table with beers, fried appetizers and binders. If it wasn't for every once in a while someone shouting "Shakespeare is an idiot," people would have assumed we're college students cramming for a test.

I went home for two weeks over New Year's, updating the script with all the actors' suggestions, and we began rehearsing the second week of January. My landlord owns an art studio, and she was nice enough to let us use it when it wasn't open. Over the next month, we met 2-3 times a week (Friday nights we alternated buying the beer) and workshopped the show until we were happy with all the little additions and funny bits (including one with a dog).

The Rogue presents possibilities

On the eve of our opening, I reflect on this sense of accomplishment that I have. Even if the play turns out to be a stinker, it will have been worth trying something. I had been thinking about doing a Rogue show for years. I'd been working on this one for the better part of the past 12 months.

Now it's real.

Just like the festival itself. There is a sense of authenticity to the Rogue; something genuine about it.

That's the true secret of the Rogue. As longtime volunteer Robert Paul says, "It gives people from all over the place to really do their art."

My art is called "Shakespeare Is an Idiot." It's an original comedy. It's one of 80 acts at this year's festival. I'm honored to be a part of this special event. And I can't wait till next year.

At least for the next 10 days, people can't say "there's nothing to do in Fresno."