Tagged: Playwriting

Jan 22

On Readings

The thing about surrendering control of a play to a staged reading is that it renders you as powerless as the rest of the audience.  You become nothing more than a (high-stakes) observer – helpless to correct actor’s missteps, unable to clarify a misspoken line, and useless to make certain anyone sees what you see in this seed of an idea.

You sit.

You wait.

You cringe and chuckle and sweat.

And at the end of it all, you sit and listen to your fellow observers (though you are now center stage) – an exhibition to ask questions of, offer advice to, and seek story solace from… all in the hopes of helping you make the play better… all under the guise of shared responsibility to help you “develop” your script.

And if you’re lucky, you write enough of what is said down so that you can look at it later… when you’re alone… back in the comfort of your unobserved work space.  And you hope that it will somehow help you solve your act break SNAFU, a character aberration, or some other detail that’s been bothering you (or your readers).

You hope that anyone present with the ability to advance your career liked your play enough (or your comments/laugh/shoes enough – you’re not picky) to remember you and maybe invite you to play at their theatre somehow.  You hope that if this damn play gets read enough, the next theater that tells you they like it will do something more than just present it as a reading, because really, you’ve already put this play through 10 million (or 6) of those already and isn’t it about time someone started putting productions where their compliments are?

Because you’re a playwright.

And Playwriting is messy, public business.

And you can’t wait to get into a bigger, more public arena, with new actors and directors, where you are once again rendered helpless in the back of a (bigger) audience as the curtain rises…

Sweating even bigger bullets.

 

 

 

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Sep 05

M.I.A and the Recharge

I’ve been swamped… and I’ve had a lot of really great projects on my plate, so aside from the occasional gripe about how tired I was, I’ve been chugging along pretty well.

But this weekend I finally got a chance to sit and rest and NOT be mated to a computer or a project… and I completely destabilized into a mess of exhausted “I don’t wanna!”ness.

Which tells me that I’ve been over-doing it this summer.

So I cut a few projects back and although I’ve got a lot more on my plate to come, I was able to play catch up this weekend and I’m feeling a lot better.

Woof.

And, if you’re interested in how Dirty Laundry went, it went BEAUTIFULLY.  I am super excited about it.  I’m also SUPER SUPER EXCITED about the next phase of the Little Black Dress INK journey.  You can read about the festival here.  The link goes to our blog where I and other playwrights involved in the fest have written.  There are also some pics from the show.  I’m a proud theatre mamma!

But as to this blog and my sometimes-infrequent posting, I’ve decided not to beat myself up (too much) about it (in the interest of my sanity) and will continue to keep you up to date on all my awds and ends as much as I can, but considering all the other blogging and project-ing I’m doing, I’m afraid it will continue to be a bit irregular.

I hope you’ll all stick with me and understand :)  I do so love having a place to write and keep my soap-boxing skills in shape.

With Cheer…

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Posted in The Daily Drool

Aug 30

An Inspired Feast

Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to crawl inside a story, follow its characters around like a specter, and watch them between the pages?

I got to do a little bit of that this weekend – and the material at hand was Macbeth.

Sleep No More, the show that the Fella and I braved Hurricane Ireen to see, is a tactile, multi-dimensional, sensory rich explosion of theatricality that left me stunned and exhilarated… and wondering if I had really seen the things I remembered or been lifted so close to the feast of the muse that my mind had made up a few of its own details…

This is compelling theatre folks.

The NY Times did a much better write up (with photos) than I can possibly do here, so I won’t bother to try and review it – I’m not sure I can even quantify what I saw – I had a migraine and was a bit anxious about our impending visit from Irene (what an odd weekend to be visiting New York) – so although I was thrilled and transported, my foggy brain left me not at my analytical best.

What I am absolutely going to talk about is the exception to theatrical rule that this play exhibits.

You see, there is nothing about this show that is ordinary… The audience is allowed to walk around the actors, in fact encouraged to poke amongst their desk drawers and bedroom shelves… The soundscape is swelling with vibration that guides and compels the actors into expressive dance and behavior inches from the audience’s faces, sometimes reaching out to physically draw a guest even closer into their experience…  And you spend a lot of time running up and down stairs in chase of performers as they dash from “scene” to “scene”.

Is it a play for everyone?  I’m sure it is not.

Is it an experience for everyone?  Yes.  Yes indeed.

And it’s inspiring to a theatre-maker like myself who desires to create more compelling theatre.

I often think about the differences on philosophies in theatre… There seem to be an extreme some who view theatre as nothing more than strung together images and words… who would like to see more visual excess and less story, who embrace what I would call “Performance Art” as theatre in its prime.  There is another camp that seems to exalt only the theatre of yesteryear… who mourn the loss of classic texts to techno, who see merit mostly in the tried and true talk-talkies and kitchen sink dramas…

And there are (of course) a multitude between, viewing theatre as a home for all, a place for exploration and evolution, even though the thought of something new can sometimes paralyze them or launch them into seeming more one camp than the other…

I think I sit pretty fairly between the two – maybe leaning a bit heavier towards the adventurous side – but still hoping to marry them kindly.

I want innovation and visual intensity, I want beautiful language and compelling relationships.  I want Story.  I want room to interpret.  I want to be taken on a journey that I couldn’t take by any other means.

And so, this show – whilst leaving me pondering a great many tangents of Macbeth and the other blended witchery/treachery/intrinsic dramatic elements of a Macbethian story – fed my creative soul with all sorts of sensorial decadence.

It left me wanting more…

It left me feeling crafty and hopeful and inspired.

It left me with the distinct impression that (if all works as it should and I am again called to NY in the Spring) I would very much like to experience this show again.

 

 

 

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Posted in Playwriting, The Daily Drool

Jun 18

New Stuff

Wow – Where did I go?!

I knew it had been a while since I’d written, but I didn’t realize it was ELEVEN DAYS!  I’m sorry… time has just been in short supply lately.

And honestly, I’ve just stopped by to share some of what I’ve been working on with you… so even this post will be a little lean.

I’m directing a play in Prescott (I know, I know… directing?  I’m all over the place lately!)  and it opens July 7th. It should be a lot of fun, but it’s one of the main time – eaters that has been competing for writing and sleeping and sanity hours lately. Anyway, I’m excited about it, so if you’re in town you should buy a ticket and come out for a good laugh.

Meanwhile, I’ve also been working on getting the site up for Little Black Dress Ink.  It’s been a long time coming – ever since I realized that if I was going to continue to be an impatient wench about things theatrical, I’d best see what I could do to get something up on my own.  This is the first step – and of course I’m focused (at this point) on female playwrights since I’m a female playwright and I want to help out the cause as best I can :)  I’d love to have you check out the site… Chances are I’ll be splitting time between that blog and this, and cross posting stuff that involves playwriting.  I’ll also be posting info about each of the playwrights who are part of the Dirty Laundry festival and they’ll be guest blogging for the site… It’s pretty cool!

And that’s about all I’ve got for today – I did get a great first revision done on Jane Doe and sent that off last week to the producers considering the play for production – so THINK HAPPY SUCCESSFUL PRODUCTION THOUGHTS for me and my little play-baby!

Cheers!

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Apr 27

You got me!

Alright, alright… I post this really lame post about not being able to write as often as I’d like and then I can’t stay away from you!  But I was tossing and turning all night, dreaming about manipulating fonts (because I’ve been doing a lot of design work lately) and I woke up thinking about art and “What it all means!” and then my friend posts this quote by Banksy:

Right now I’m doing a lot of marketing type design work: at my job, on the side… and mostly for free.  I enjoy it (I’m so very visual – which surprises me since I’m a writer, not a painter, but I literally see my plays happening as I write them – so I guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised after all).   In fact, I enjoy it so much that I’m planning on taking some design and marketing classes in the Fall so that I can sharpen my skills and perhaps build a better (more profitable) side business with my photography and design work.

Which would be AMAZING, since playwriting don’t pay for beans…

Anyway – and to the point – Here I am, 32, living at home, still stinging from the financial tornado that brought me here, and all I can think about are ways to try and get my feet under me again.  The finances weigh so heavy on me that writing seems a fancy luxury… one that I can’t really afford right now.

And that makes me sad.

While government factions are divvying up the coffers of a pillaged art fund here and devastated art grant there, I’m seeing more and more of my peers looking lustily at MBA programs and full-time suited-up type jobs…

Because while art feeds the soul, it does not often feed the body.

Is there hope for artists in such an economy as this?

Is there hope for us in a world torn apart by party lines and an angry public hell-bent on some sort of/any sort of (please God) economic change (even if it destroys the cultural fabric of our homes)…

Or will this downturn serve as a thinning of the herd, so to speak… weeding out (from the already trying and “weeding” system that had been in place) the I-love-art,-but-love-to-pay-my-bills-more‘s from the Art-is-the-only-thing-that-matters!‘s…

I suppose only time will tell.

And in the meantime, I can tell you that I’m not quitting, oh no, not even close… but I am thinking about it differently (hence the exciting new project I mentioned in my post two days ago.  I know, I know, ANNOYING, but I’ll fill you all in when it’s fleshed out and ready to launch).

And I’m getting tired of “waiting” for people to decide to do my work – so I’m producing a 10-minute play festival in the late summer/early autumn full of works by other fabulous (and some struggling) female playwrights that I know.

I’m being proactive… because otherwise, I’d go stark raving mad.

And that, dear friends, is a stereotype I’d like to keep on the pages ;)

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Posted in Playwriting

Mar 28

Emerging my A$$!

There is an overwhelming redundancy in grant/fellowship/residency/development applications for “Emerging” Playwrights.

And I mean overwhelming redundancy.

Every single “Emerging” Playwright program is geared towards helping “Emerging” Playwrights (because presumably those that are already “Emerged” need less such assistance) and I am thankful (seriously thankful) that these opportunites exist;  Not only do they plump up the resume in hopes that it will add credence to your claims that you are, indeed, a capeable and exciting playwright when contacting theatre companies and artistic directors, but they usually offer you an opportunity to improve your work – (be it through a reading/discussion/workshop/or/ time with a dramaturge) – they are, in essence, designed to help you grow…

BUT, (and here’s where the redundancy comes in) they all seem to ask the same damn question: What I think of/how I define my “status” as an “Emerging” Playwright and where I see myself in the future…  And what I am growing ever closer to blurting is “Emerging” my ass, I’m friggin’ scrapping my way along here like a damned wild dog!  And I see very little difference between the “Wild dog Tiffany” of today, from the one of tomorrow, except that if I don’t start making my way out of this ring of fighters soon, I’m going to become even hungrier and  more prone to random fits of profanity!

Because what this question “How do you define yourself as an Emerging Artist?” does is dress up the sheer poverty of the title.  It ignores the burning passion of the “Believers.”  It glosses over the disparaging odds of success in the field.  It makes this gigantic pool of “I want to be”s sound like an accomplished bunch of “So closer”ers… When in reality, we’re all a bunch of yipping, reaching, dream-junkies looking for our next “fix.”

Which, as it sounds, is a pretty damn difficult thing to be.

So I stare at these applications and try to convey my opinions in a way that maintains some humanity, some humility… and some pure anadulterated hopefulness, because as cynical as that previous statement sounds, I’m still a dreamer and hoper and down-right-artistic-snuggler…

I just have a much more realistic perspective than I once did.

Because here I sit, amongst a sea of script-wavers, and I have to ask myself HOW do I get heard above the melee?  HOW do I convince a market, pre-designed NOT to take a chance on “Emerging” Playwrights, to take a chance on this one?  How do I make the most of a system reticent to give scant more than a reading and congratulatory pat on the back, when what I NEED is a theatre that will grow a pair and start producing the plays they like to pat?

Instead of complimenting me whilst producing a tried-and-true season of “Sureties”

Instead of complaining about the lack of “Under-40s” audience members when they produce a season full of works by over-40, primarily white (because that’s the current state of the cannon) mostly male (again, that damn cannon) playwrights.

Instead of bemoaning the lack of “relevant work” whilst passing over said “relevant work” by new writers because it’s “too new”

I mean, really?

So I think I’m going to take myself out of the “Emerging” category and start calling myself something else…

Something more, accurate.

Something that feels less assigned and more organic.

Something like… Indomitable Playwright.

Yeah, I think that’s a better fit.

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Posted in Playwriting, The Daily Drool

Mar 21

Mold and Things Left Forgotten

Horror of Horrors yesterday, as I ventured to the garage to finally open and put to use some of my most favored theatre books: I found instead a damp, moldy, spongy mess in their place, as apparently some snow melt had made its way beneath the garage door and into my precious box of books.

But what the hell were they doing there in the first place?

You see, when I moved into my parents house, oh, nearly a year ago, I never expected to be here this long.  Or I don’t know, maybe I didn’t have any expectations, period.  Which amounted to me guessing which boxes would most benefit from unpacking, and which could linger longer in uncertainty…  Although I (rightly) thought that this box should be brought inside and my beloved books put on shelves immediately, I had already used up most of the shelf space in my room and so adding these to the fray would require a fair share of rearranging that I (in my I’m-so-tired-of-packing/unpacking-that-I-could-pitch-a-fit-that-would-render-a-five-year-old-jealous) simply didn’t have the interest or wherewithal to tend to…

So I left the box, midway between safety and safer-still -all too near the garage door.

Where it lingered, hopeful and neglected, for 11 months.

And so, dear reader, is it not a gross metaphor for the negligence I’ve visited upon my own theatrical fires, that this box of Hagen, Meisner and Mamet, of Viewpoints, Shakespeare, and Limericks, of Collected Works and Collected Histories, be completely overrun by the very herald of disuse; Mold?

Which isn’t to say that I’ve completely abandoned the theatrical ship – oh no, far from it – what with a new play, a screenplay, and that time-consuming play festival I was coordinating, I can hardly beat myself up for being a deserter.  However, I’ve not been as deeply in tune with The Muse as I’d like to have been these past few months either… and I’m left wondering, as I hope and pray that the books dry “Useable”, could I not have spared myself the heartbreak of seeing those pages wrinkled and flecked with grey if I’d only made more of an effort to feed The Muse and brought those damn books inside where they could remind me to buckle down and create?

(sigh)

I suppose the answer lies somewhere between the guilt of “what if” and the incredible urging said moldy books now offer to redouble my efforts and get back in the game.

Because I will be teaching some acting and writing classes this spring, and I have two new plays crock-potting between The Muse and The Laptop…

And I don’t want any of that to grow mold!

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Posted in Playwriting, The Daily Drool

Dec 09

READ THIS!

Okay – Like I said, I’m blogging all over the place this week – but I am particularly proud of today’s LAFPI post,  so I would LOVE it if you would click on over there and give it a read… and maybe even a COMMENT!

CLICK HERE

And maybe tomorrow I’ll have something “Awds and Ends” related to talk about.  There is this fantastic Eulogy for a Squirrel I’ve been working on…

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Posted in Playwriting, The Daily Drool

Dec 06

I’m not sure…

But I think my recent happiness has affected my desire to blog…

That, and the new LosAngelesFAIL.com blog.

And work.

And all the playwriting submissions/professorial applications I’ve been trying to get turned in.

(sigh)

But the happy, romantic, mush-bally-ness has been wonderful! I’ve been floating along on a happy little cloud, and I don’t have any intention of hopping off!

There is the small matter of me guest blogging for the LAFPI again this week though too… Click on over for some good ol’ Playwriting Chit-Chat!  Today’s post:  Dramaturges vs. Playwrights- or – What I learned from the recent Listserve explosion between the two!

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Posted in Playwriting, The Daily Drool

Oct 23

It’s like singing that one song? You know, that you heard that one time?

So, now that you’ve all read my oh-so-exciting interview in The Dramatist, I thought I’d take a hot second to reflect on what I thought were an exceptional grouping of essays written on the topic of ethnicity, specifically, in regards to a playwright’s rights/responsibility in writing ethnic characters (be they member’s of the playwright’s own “posse” or not.)   And while each of the many talented (and mostly working, <applause!>) playwrights wrote that the charge lay in retaining an authenticity (of voice, of intent, of research), they also seem to agree that a playwright shouldn’t be discouraged from writing outside their own race, religion, identity, etc.

A playwright wears many hats, after all.

An I enjoyed reading all of their essays, reminded again and again of the same image; that of a young girl singing her heart out at a Karaoke contest I recently attended (I am a big supporter of my friend’s ventures, and my dear Ann Marie was fabulous!)  Now, this entrant was only 13, and A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E.  She had a nice smoky voice (hopefully NOT from smoking) and she had style, you know?  But she was singing “Hey, Soul Sister” by Train, which if you’ve ever listened to the song, is about a man singing praise for his lover.   And those words, coming out of the mouth of a 13 year old, are, well, super creepy.

Because they aren’t authentic to her as a performer:  she’s NOT a hairy-chested man, she’s (hopefully) not sleeping with a sexy dancing-queen…  She hasn’t lived any of that (yet?) so it’s ridiculous for her to step into those shoes and try to “sell” this character to the “grown-ups” who know better.  Now, of course she (most likely) just liked the beat, the music, the upbeat nature of the song… and she probably had her own 13-year old definition for it.  But her skill and passion for the song not-withstanding, all of these lyrics about sex and sensuality coming out of her mouth made me squirm.

I think something similar happens when you read characters written by playwrights who haven’t the experience of the characters they are writing, or who have failed to take the time to research those that were unfamiliar.  I think this feeling of “ick” happens when you meet a caricature presented as genuine by someone genuinely-clueless.

Because a playwright (or any artist) has a responsibility to the art that they are creating as well as the audience that will be a party to it – to find the sincerity of plot, character, dialogue, etc.; sincerity to the tone and style as much as to the subject matter and thought behind the play.

So, if you are a writer, and you find yourself wondering how to write from an “other (than you)” perspective, you might want to pick up this month’s copy of The Dramatist.

It comes with a really nifty interview and photo of yours truly ;)

(“Hey, Soul Sister” lyrics)

Your lipstick stains
On the front lobe of my left side brains.
I knew I wouldn’t forget you,
And so I went and let you blow my mind.
Your sweet moonbeam,
The smell of you in every single dream I dream,
I knew when we collided,
You’re the one I have decided
Who’s one of my kind.

Hey soul sister,
Ain’t that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo,
The way you move ain’t fair you know.
Hey soul sister,
I don’t want to miss a single thing you do…
Tonight.
Heeey, Heeeeey heeeey!

Just in time,
I’m so glad you have a one track mind like me.
You gave my life direction,
A game show love connection, we can’t deny-i-i-i.
I’m so obsessed,
My heart is bound to beat right out my untrimmed chest.
I believe in you, “Like a Virgin,” you’re Madonna,
And I’m always gonna want to blow your mind.

Hey soul sister,
Ain’t that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo,
The way you move ain’t fair you know.
Hey soul sister,
I don’t want to miss a single thing you do…
Tonight.
Heeey, Heeeeey heeeey!

The way you can cut a rug,
Watching you’s the only drug I need.
You’re so gangsta, I’m so thug,
You’re the only one I’m dreaming of.
You see, I can be myself now finally,
In fact there’s nothing I can’t be.
I want the world to see you’ll be with me.

Hey soul sister,
Ain’t that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo,
The way you move ain’t fair you know.
Hey soul sister
I don’t want to miss a single thing you do tonight,
Hey soul sister,
I don’t want to miss a single thing you do…
Tonight.

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Posted in Playwriting, The Daily Drool

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