Home Is...
...where when you have to go, they have to take you in?
...where you hang your hat?
...where you keep your leftover thai takeout?
...where your cell phone bill is mailed?
...where you have Top Chef Tevo-ed?
...where you have to help with Box Office?
...where you and your collaborators go for beer?
Several friends of mine and I have been billing this summer as the one where we decide what to do next. "Next" being post-MFA. And by "what to do" we mean "where to go." And by "where to go" we mean "New York or Chicago?" We've been asking questions about production opportunities, advancement opportunities, networking opportunities, visibility, romance and heartache, cost of living, cold winters, public transportation, community, ability to have a real life, etc. etc.
And yes, we've got the ever-expanding mental list of pros and cons for each city. And no, neither city (NO city, despite those sweet nothings Los Angeles is whispering in your ear, Norma Jean) is gonna give us a lottery ticket, orgasm and Oscar upon arrival. That much is clear.
We could always go to one or the other and "just see," then change our minds. Well, they could. For myself, I'm not so sure.
I did the math today. I have lived in 15 different homes or apartments in the last 11 years. In three states and two continents. Each with the intention of staying. I have owned and bought, sold, or chosen to leave 8 different beds. I have called each place home, and in the process, I have called NOWHERE home, carrying the few belongings that mattered to me (and there are very few) on my back, saying "Yes" to places and people with a silent "For Now" always left unspoken.
At some point, "Nomadic" runs the risk of meaning "Homeless."
Maybe Home is Where You Plant Your Ass.
Maybe Home is something you make by saying "Yes" and ignoring the "For Now." Maybe home is something you have to WORK to make in a place, painting walls and putting up plays and getting invested and getting messy with the people who are in front of you, keeping your easy, lazy philosophy of "everything is temporary" to yourself and participating in the collective delusion that we can and should make something permanent, that it's possible to dig in to a place and to each other without having half your heart out the door.
Maybe it doesn't matter WHICH city I pick, as long as I pick one and mean it, and do all the hard, fun, necessary work to make it my artistic home.
Maybe it's time to plant some roots, and see what grows.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Playwrights to Watch (Chicago)
....that is, if you're not already.
Emily Schwartz
Marisa Wegrzyn
Rob Kozlowski
David Alan Moore
Sarah Gubbins
Laura Jacqmin
Emily Schwartz
Marisa Wegrzyn
Rob Kozlowski
David Alan Moore
Sarah Gubbins
Laura Jacqmin
Monday, June 23, 2008
A play about a modern-day Slave
...with a company I really love and would love to work with at a Soho space. It was workshop-level, maybe a little more than that, but even so, it was weak, I thought. It definitely fit into the "strange" part of the host theater's "Funny, Strange, Provocative." At points it was provocative, too.
It was...the TIMING was off. Both of the direction but ALSO of the play itself. Usually when I read a play I "play it forward" and see the production. Tonight I was playing the production backward and seeing the script...and it felt like a screenplay, with "shots" built in that had to be accomodated, scenes that didn't build or give enough information, scenes that felt like non-sequiturs. Which is different than Tina Landau's/Madeline L'Engle's concept of the Tesseract, one I wholeheartedly embrace.
I know that some of the weirdness was inherent to the project being set forth by this author...you have a kid played by an adult running around in a dog suit, you're not an Aristotle Acolyte. Of course. And no reason you should be. But even trying to meet this play on its own terms, it felt like the playwright (and maybe playwright/director) hadn't spent enough time with it, thinking it through, playing with it. This felt like a sculpture put together with toothpaste and silly string, falling apart when you add glitter.
This was NOT a well-crafted play. Which is a damn shame, because the playwright really WAS taking on some fascinating issues/power dynamics/human relationships. Which should be applauded. I mean, this writer was, on some level, aiming the humor gun straight at race, class, and power -- exactly what I was arguing for in my last post. But. It wasn't landing.
And it wasn't landing because of CRAFT. Because (I'm guessing) not enough time, patience, care were taken. Which makes me sad. And is a fair warning to take TIME with a play before throwing it into the glare of the spotlight. There's no going back at that point.
I dunno. Maybe after this production the playwright will go back to the drawing board. I think that this could turn into something really special. It's just not there yet. Or maybe I'm wrong and silly string is what the playwright was going for.
It was...the TIMING was off. Both of the direction but ALSO of the play itself. Usually when I read a play I "play it forward" and see the production. Tonight I was playing the production backward and seeing the script...and it felt like a screenplay, with "shots" built in that had to be accomodated, scenes that didn't build or give enough information, scenes that felt like non-sequiturs. Which is different than Tina Landau's/Madeline L'Engle's concept of the Tesseract, one I wholeheartedly embrace.
I know that some of the weirdness was inherent to the project being set forth by this author...you have a kid played by an adult running around in a dog suit, you're not an Aristotle Acolyte. Of course. And no reason you should be. But even trying to meet this play on its own terms, it felt like the playwright (and maybe playwright/director) hadn't spent enough time with it, thinking it through, playing with it. This felt like a sculpture put together with toothpaste and silly string, falling apart when you add glitter.
This was NOT a well-crafted play. Which is a damn shame, because the playwright really WAS taking on some fascinating issues/power dynamics/human relationships. Which should be applauded. I mean, this writer was, on some level, aiming the humor gun straight at race, class, and power -- exactly what I was arguing for in my last post. But. It wasn't landing.
And it wasn't landing because of CRAFT. Because (I'm guessing) not enough time, patience, care were taken. Which makes me sad. And is a fair warning to take TIME with a play before throwing it into the glare of the spotlight. There's no going back at that point.
I dunno. Maybe after this production the playwright will go back to the drawing board. I think that this could turn into something really special. It's just not there yet. Or maybe I'm wrong and silly string is what the playwright was going for.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
On Humor
I saw two plays today. One was Judith Thompson's "Palace of the End," the other was Rebecca Cohen's "Penalties and Interest." Both (bless them) were affordable. The first was a trio of successive monologues on Iraq. We met the woman who was in the infamous torture/prison photos, David Kelly (wmd inspector), and the ghost of an Iraqi woman describing her family and her torture. The second was about people in an office and...um...people in an office.
Both were well done. The first was a full production, the second a workshop. The first had a definite axe to grind. The second...was hilarious.
But see, it's that problem that keeps surfacing. The first was so HEAVY. The issues it addressed, the characters, the stories the characters had to tell...it felt like the audience was being stoned. Not with marajuana, with stones. And these were excellent performances, and this was a script by a playwright who knows how to craft a story, to sculpt words, all that. An award-winning play, an important play. The second was so ENTERTAINING...it was hilarious, it was well-choreographed, the staging was smart and specific, the actors, in their own way, equally strong as the other piece. I was grinning through the piece as they hit moment after moment in the script.
But. It didn't add up to much.
I spent the first half of my day at a play with so many important things to say, but delivered in such a way that I could feel the audience sinking back AWAY from the play and its message. The second half of my day, the whole audience was leaning forward, but toward WHAT?
Which brings me to humor. This is maybe a point that is belabored, god knows it's been said elsewhere, but...
Humor, in theater, isn't just a tool. It's a weapon. It gets you past the guard of your audience, it keeps them sitting up, leaning forward, disarmed...to the point where you can get to the core of your point, to the burning, loving, angry, enlightened whatever-it-may-be that had you putting pen to paper in the first place. If you want them to listen, you wanna be funny. If you've already got them laughing, KNOW the opportunity you have and USE it.
At tonight's play, because the play itself wasn't giving me much to think about, I started to ponder "what's true about funny stuff on stage." Here are a few things I observed.
1) Humor has repetition. It establishes a pattern, makes it TOTALLY clear to the audience...hence the rule of three.
2) Humor messes with repetition. Once a pattern is firmly established, you screw with it. So it's set-up, set-up, twist.
3) Funny plays are PRECISE. Because timing is everything. There's an inherent musicality, a rhythm, to stage humor.
4) Funny plays grow out of relationships.
5) In funny plays, there is often a dissonance between how high the CHARACTERS perceive the stakes to be, and how high the AUDIENCE perceives the stakes to be. Characters stakes = incredibly high, AUDIENCE stakes = not so high.
uh...I'm sure I'll think of more.
Both were well done. The first was a full production, the second a workshop. The first had a definite axe to grind. The second...was hilarious.
But see, it's that problem that keeps surfacing. The first was so HEAVY. The issues it addressed, the characters, the stories the characters had to tell...it felt like the audience was being stoned. Not with marajuana, with stones. And these were excellent performances, and this was a script by a playwright who knows how to craft a story, to sculpt words, all that. An award-winning play, an important play. The second was so ENTERTAINING...it was hilarious, it was well-choreographed, the staging was smart and specific, the actors, in their own way, equally strong as the other piece. I was grinning through the piece as they hit moment after moment in the script.
But. It didn't add up to much.
I spent the first half of my day at a play with so many important things to say, but delivered in such a way that I could feel the audience sinking back AWAY from the play and its message. The second half of my day, the whole audience was leaning forward, but toward WHAT?
Which brings me to humor. This is maybe a point that is belabored, god knows it's been said elsewhere, but...
Humor, in theater, isn't just a tool. It's a weapon. It gets you past the guard of your audience, it keeps them sitting up, leaning forward, disarmed...to the point where you can get to the core of your point, to the burning, loving, angry, enlightened whatever-it-may-be that had you putting pen to paper in the first place. If you want them to listen, you wanna be funny. If you've already got them laughing, KNOW the opportunity you have and USE it.
At tonight's play, because the play itself wasn't giving me much to think about, I started to ponder "what's true about funny stuff on stage." Here are a few things I observed.
1) Humor has repetition. It establishes a pattern, makes it TOTALLY clear to the audience...hence the rule of three.
2) Humor messes with repetition. Once a pattern is firmly established, you screw with it. So it's set-up, set-up, twist.
3) Funny plays are PRECISE. Because timing is everything. There's an inherent musicality, a rhythm, to stage humor.
4) Funny plays grow out of relationships.
5) In funny plays, there is often a dissonance between how high the CHARACTERS perceive the stakes to be, and how high the AUDIENCE perceives the stakes to be. Characters stakes = incredibly high, AUDIENCE stakes = not so high.
uh...I'm sure I'll think of more.
Celebration!
I was wondering what my 100th post would be...it gets to be something very special.
My dear friend, George Brant, just won the Keene Prize. $50,000. For his wonderful play, "Elephant's Graveyard."
George, I'm so happy for you and proud of you and your play! No one could deserve the award more.
Now you owe us all a drink.
My dear friend, George Brant, just won the Keene Prize. $50,000. For his wonderful play, "Elephant's Graveyard."
George, I'm so happy for you and proud of you and your play! No one could deserve the award more.
Now you owe us all a drink.
Canary
Is a musical-in-progress by a playwright I know. It's Bluegrass/punk, which I find especially cool, and the performers were great.
Molly, the writer, crafts a mean monologue. The show's pace was still meandering, and I think it's still finding itself, but this was a script-in-hand reading, which is REALLY tough for what she's writing, so that makes it a little bit hard to tell. I hope she got what she wanted to from it. I enjoyed myself, anyway.
There was a nice crowd for what was, essentially, an invited dress. It was the first time I'd seen Rattlestick Theater's space, which I loved, felt very much like a Chicago storefront space. Seemed like good people.
Molly, the writer, crafts a mean monologue. The show's pace was still meandering, and I think it's still finding itself, but this was a script-in-hand reading, which is REALLY tough for what she's writing, so that makes it a little bit hard to tell. I hope she got what she wanted to from it. I enjoyed myself, anyway.
There was a nice crowd for what was, essentially, an invited dress. It was the first time I'd seen Rattlestick Theater's space, which I loved, felt very much like a Chicago storefront space. Seemed like good people.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Sunday In The Park With George
...was a disappointment. I had never seen it. There were some great lyrics, but the story was patchy at best, more like a sketch than a complete show. Was Sondheim trying to comment on the construction of the Seurat painting through his story construction?
I don't know.
There were some interesting technical elements introduced by the director...but I want theater to make me engage intellectually and emotionally...and this left me cold both ways.
What to take away? Well...it was an affirmation that well-constructed story will pull and audience through. That half-assing it won't. And that if you're getting experimental with construction, the experiment needs to be as well thought out (in fact, BETTER thought out) than the traditional storytelling would be.
Harrumph. To bed.
I don't know.
There were some interesting technical elements introduced by the director...but I want theater to make me engage intellectually and emotionally...and this left me cold both ways.
What to take away? Well...it was an affirmation that well-constructed story will pull and audience through. That half-assing it won't. And that if you're getting experimental with construction, the experiment needs to be as well thought out (in fact, BETTER thought out) than the traditional storytelling would be.
Harrumph. To bed.
Monday, June 16, 2008
On Breaks...
I didn't really mention this before, but I've been on a semi-conscious break from writing over the past several weeks. It started as an accident/meltdown, and turned into a resolute "let me wait until this feels right." This is one of the reasons for all of the recent blog entries.
Because I've actually had time to PROCESS six months' worth of (various kinds of) learning. Which is a very good thing.
And now I've started writing again. Just in the last couple of days. But it's with a clearer head. And a stronger sense of purpose. And a renewed spirit. And with many writing lessons / life lessons learned. And, um, it's fun again.
Wouldn't it be nice if you could call "time out" in EVERY aspect of your life, to such good result? Sigh.
I guess we'll see how much of it sticks.
Point being...if it feels right and good to step away from the page, and your life permits it, I recommend it.
Because I've actually had time to PROCESS six months' worth of (various kinds of) learning. Which is a very good thing.
And now I've started writing again. Just in the last couple of days. But it's with a clearer head. And a stronger sense of purpose. And a renewed spirit. And with many writing lessons / life lessons learned. And, um, it's fun again.
Wouldn't it be nice if you could call "time out" in EVERY aspect of your life, to such good result? Sigh.
I guess we'll see how much of it sticks.
Point being...if it feels right and good to step away from the page, and your life permits it, I recommend it.
Notes and quotes from a great panel...the last of Momentum
Momentum had a good panel discussion the other day, this one with agents and literary managers and artistic directors....
Tracy Brigden, City Theater's Artistic Director (and someone who directs all over the East Coast)
Christie Evangelisto, Director of Musical Theater&Dramaturg at Playwrights Horizons
Beth Blickers, Literary Agent at Abrams Artists NYC
Lou Tyrrell, Artistic Director at Florida Stage
Carlyn Aquiline, City Theater's Dramaturg
Discussion Highlights (things attributed when I remember who said them)
When asked what was new and exciting to them in American Theater, Tracy said MUSICALS! They're starting to break more from form, and draw more on popular music, are showing a strong forward motion of storyline. They said that lyric writing is changing. Lou mentioned the push for new plays to get multiple productions through organizations like the National New Play Network, Christie mentioned a growing interest on the part of audiences to see the early stages of the development process, and Beth talked about the increasing number of regional theaters that are bringing in work created off-site (as in NYC's The Civilians touring a show, Rude Mechs touring a show, Steppenwolf bringing other theaters into the garage...)
How has playwriting changed?
Beth says she sees playwrights getting more political, going outside their living rooms to find windows on the world, looking at Israeli Palestine, looking at the Muslim world…finding things that are unique, unknown, resonant. She says she’s seeing fewer 20-something plays, fewer “mother plays,” fewer “coming out plays.”
Someone said there had been a “sorry trend for a while of no comedies…” It wasn’t clear whether that had begun to change…but they said the best comedies they were seeing were coming out of politics.
The three big issues around which people seem to be writing are family, war/ripped from headlines, and faith.
They said that people aren’t going to see their Iraq plays…
They were asked about the trend of new play production moving out of NYC, how it has helped, and how it’s hindered…
“It’s very smart to show new work out of NYC first. The critical climate in New York is currently awful”“It’s great to do work elsewhere and bring it in…develop out of town whenever you can.”
“The PERCEPTION has changed. Playwrights don’t need to be in NYC to make a living in theater.”
“If you’re emerging, and you have an opportunity to get good reviews outside of New York, you should.”
“Regional Theater is the new Off-Broadway.” – but the regionals “aren’t bubble-wrap.” It’s still got to be a great play.
“The scary thing happening New York is…people read the regional reviews, and if those reviews aren’t good, the play won’t even get looked at for New York.”
What are the Qualities you see in good Directors and Dramaturgs in new work…
“If you love a play out of the gate, you have to agree to nurture it and the playwright (the whole creative team does)…a new play is ‘a very fragile thing’” (side note…I don’t know whether I agree with the idea that a play is “fragile.” I know Dietz doesn’t...and I guess so far it hasn’t been my experience...but my experience is limited)
“Basically, you want a director and dramaturg who shut up and listen…a great question to ask is ‘what was the genesis of this play’ – then pay attention…and see if that genesis is showing up in the play as it stands…”
“It’s tough when emerging playwrights work with established directors, or it can be…the balance of power can go off”
“be careful of the ‘I know what’s best for you’ line of thinking”
WHAT NEEDS DOING? WHAT NEEDS WORK?
“Agents are encouraging half-baked plays. That needs to change”
“You don’t get to send a play twice…you’re already in the Excel Spreadsheet as having been rejected.”
“To rewrite during the rehearsal process, it really helps to be in the room for the rehearsal process…”
ADVICE
“Make your own work. Don’t RELY on other people. Put your plays in front of people and take them out for coffee.”
“Develop a feedback circle with people who know what they’re talking about.”
“Get to know the regional theater world. Become a human being.”
“Really hold on to your relationships from school. They’re your colleagues for life. Help each other wherever you can”
“Constantly listen to your own inner voice and heed it.”
“Don’t fuck around.”
Tracy Brigden, City Theater's Artistic Director (and someone who directs all over the East Coast)
Christie Evangelisto, Director of Musical Theater&Dramaturg at Playwrights Horizons
Beth Blickers, Literary Agent at Abrams Artists NYC
Lou Tyrrell, Artistic Director at Florida Stage
Carlyn Aquiline, City Theater's Dramaturg
Discussion Highlights (things attributed when I remember who said them)
When asked what was new and exciting to them in American Theater, Tracy said MUSICALS! They're starting to break more from form, and draw more on popular music, are showing a strong forward motion of storyline. They said that lyric writing is changing. Lou mentioned the push for new plays to get multiple productions through organizations like the National New Play Network, Christie mentioned a growing interest on the part of audiences to see the early stages of the development process, and Beth talked about the increasing number of regional theaters that are bringing in work created off-site (as in NYC's The Civilians touring a show, Rude Mechs touring a show, Steppenwolf bringing other theaters into the garage...)
How has playwriting changed?
Beth says she sees playwrights getting more political, going outside their living rooms to find windows on the world, looking at Israeli Palestine, looking at the Muslim world…finding things that are unique, unknown, resonant. She says she’s seeing fewer 20-something plays, fewer “mother plays,” fewer “coming out plays.”
Someone said there had been a “sorry trend for a while of no comedies…” It wasn’t clear whether that had begun to change…but they said the best comedies they were seeing were coming out of politics.
The three big issues around which people seem to be writing are family, war/ripped from headlines, and faith.
They said that people aren’t going to see their Iraq plays…
They were asked about the trend of new play production moving out of NYC, how it has helped, and how it’s hindered…
“It’s very smart to show new work out of NYC first. The critical climate in New York is currently awful”“It’s great to do work elsewhere and bring it in…develop out of town whenever you can.”
“The PERCEPTION has changed. Playwrights don’t need to be in NYC to make a living in theater.”
“If you’re emerging, and you have an opportunity to get good reviews outside of New York, you should.”
“Regional Theater is the new Off-Broadway.” – but the regionals “aren’t bubble-wrap.” It’s still got to be a great play.
“The scary thing happening New York is…people read the regional reviews, and if those reviews aren’t good, the play won’t even get looked at for New York.”
What are the Qualities you see in good Directors and Dramaturgs in new work…
“If you love a play out of the gate, you have to agree to nurture it and the playwright (the whole creative team does)…a new play is ‘a very fragile thing’” (side note…I don’t know whether I agree with the idea that a play is “fragile.” I know Dietz doesn’t...and I guess so far it hasn’t been my experience...but my experience is limited)
“Basically, you want a director and dramaturg who shut up and listen…a great question to ask is ‘what was the genesis of this play’ – then pay attention…and see if that genesis is showing up in the play as it stands…”
“It’s tough when emerging playwrights work with established directors, or it can be…the balance of power can go off”
“be careful of the ‘I know what’s best for you’ line of thinking”
WHAT NEEDS DOING? WHAT NEEDS WORK?
“Agents are encouraging half-baked plays. That needs to change”
“You don’t get to send a play twice…you’re already in the Excel Spreadsheet as having been rejected.”
“To rewrite during the rehearsal process, it really helps to be in the room for the rehearsal process…”
ADVICE
“Make your own work. Don’t RELY on other people. Put your plays in front of people and take them out for coffee.”
“Develop a feedback circle with people who know what they’re talking about.”
“Get to know the regional theater world. Become a human being.”
“Really hold on to your relationships from school. They’re your colleagues for life. Help each other wherever you can”
“Constantly listen to your own inner voice and heed it.”
“Don’t fuck around.”
Friday, June 13, 2008
Chicago. Huh.
There was a playwrights panel at the Momentum Festival today. One of the questions asked was "So we have a lot of playwrights in the room thinking about moving to New York. What advice would you give to them?"
The response: "Move to Chicago."
Not from one playwright. From three. Whose collected hardware included Tonys, Emmys, and Oscars.
Huh. Okay. So that's something to think about. Especially with me asking the universe for signs about the course life should take from here on out. That one's, like, neon and flashing, right?
The response: "Move to Chicago."
Not from one playwright. From three. Whose collected hardware included Tonys, Emmys, and Oscars.
Huh. Okay. So that's something to think about. Especially with me asking the universe for signs about the course life should take from here on out. That one's, like, neon and flashing, right?
Mo' thoughts on Momentum
(Sorry about the title, couldn't resist).
I'm in day...what, three or four? of Pittsburgh City Theater's Momentum festival. The folks involved with the theater, and the artists they've brought in, are just AWESOME. I was talking to Ange, who is helping with Company Management during the festival, and she basically said "yeah, we always get nice, smart people here, I don't know what that is...". I do. It's "Like meets like."
This morning, in the midst of photocopier orgies, pencil-sharpening and bagel runs, I paused for a second and looked around City Theater's offices. There were about ten people, from the Artistic Director and Associate Artistic Director down through unpaid interns, running around to make sure that the five playwrights-in-residence this weekend have everything they need for their workshops. That the actors have up-to-date pages. That everyone's got coffee. It struck me JUST HOW MANY RESOURCES (money, time, energy, creative juice etc) go into making a single weekend-long festival fly.
And I thought:
Man, if you're a playwright who has folks marshalling these kind of resources behind your project, you are BLESSED. And Baby, you better do what you can to DESERVE those people, and those resources...out of respect for them, yourself, and the 150 playwrights behind you in line who would kill for the opportunity.
What does that entail?
um, well...again the list below is of things people are totally doing RIGHT at this festival. Hurray, City Theater & co.
-Showing up ready to work...to skip the bar and go make changes to your script.
-Listening to the smart people who have thoughts for you...really considering and/or trying what they say (and if they're NOT smart people...well...why the hell did you sign on?)
-Making sure your changes are well-organized (make those pages easy to coordinate for the frazzled literary manager and her interns)
-Being gracious, honest, forthright, thoughtful on any panels in which you're asked to participate
-Being NICE to everybody. Saying hello, remembering names if you can
-Trying, in general, while you're there, to be as positive a member of that theater's community as you can. Make nice to donors. Thank staffers. Don't make extra work.
-And, you know, write a really really good play that the company can tape to their refridgerator.
I'm in day...what, three or four? of Pittsburgh City Theater's Momentum festival. The folks involved with the theater, and the artists they've brought in, are just AWESOME. I was talking to Ange, who is helping with Company Management during the festival, and she basically said "yeah, we always get nice, smart people here, I don't know what that is...". I do. It's "Like meets like."
This morning, in the midst of photocopier orgies, pencil-sharpening and bagel runs, I paused for a second and looked around City Theater's offices. There were about ten people, from the Artistic Director and Associate Artistic Director down through unpaid interns, running around to make sure that the five playwrights-in-residence this weekend have everything they need for their workshops. That the actors have up-to-date pages. That everyone's got coffee. It struck me JUST HOW MANY RESOURCES (money, time, energy, creative juice etc) go into making a single weekend-long festival fly.
And I thought:
Man, if you're a playwright who has folks marshalling these kind of resources behind your project, you are BLESSED. And Baby, you better do what you can to DESERVE those people, and those resources...out of respect for them, yourself, and the 150 playwrights behind you in line who would kill for the opportunity.
What does that entail?
um, well...again the list below is of things people are totally doing RIGHT at this festival. Hurray, City Theater & co.
-Showing up ready to work...to skip the bar and go make changes to your script.
-Listening to the smart people who have thoughts for you...really considering and/or trying what they say (and if they're NOT smart people...well...why the hell did you sign on?)
-Making sure your changes are well-organized (make those pages easy to coordinate for the frazzled literary manager and her interns)
-Being gracious, honest, forthright, thoughtful on any panels in which you're asked to participate
-Being NICE to everybody. Saying hello, remembering names if you can
-Trying, in general, while you're there, to be as positive a member of that theater's community as you can. Make nice to donors. Thank staffers. Don't make extra work.
-And, you know, write a really really good play that the company can tape to their refridgerator.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Proud Parent/Momentary Horn-Tooting
Summer People just got nominated for an award (thank you, beloved nominators, and it's Williamstown's Weissberger Award, for those who care, which is, um, probably my mom). It's one of those awards that the play is very unlikely to WIN, but that is wonderful to be able to mention on the resume.
It's funny...I'm very proud, but really of IT rather than of ME. I told someone today that I kind of felt like my third-grader just did something really cool and I got to stand back and say "good job, kiddo." Not that I'm not geeked-out, I am.
Our relationships to our plays change over time, I think. I guess that's not surprising, but I'd never really thought about it.
It's funny...I'm very proud, but really of IT rather than of ME. I told someone today that I kind of felt like my third-grader just did something really cool and I got to stand back and say "good job, kiddo." Not that I'm not geeked-out, I am.
Our relationships to our plays change over time, I think. I guess that's not surprising, but I'd never really thought about it.
Momentum, continued...
Day two of watching the musical. A mini-avalanche of new pages from Brendan and Valerie, as they fine-tune lyrics and add music. Much running back-and-forth to the intermittently cooperative photocopier.
Here are a few nuts-and-bolts things I'm learning, watching. These are, by the way, all things that are going RIGHT in the room.
1) Thumbdrives, thumbdrives, thumbdrives...it's amazing to be able to throw a new set of pages onto your thumbdrive, hand it to an intern, who can then go run off new copies for you.
2) Use a different color of page for new changes for each day...helps you keep track.
3) Gotta learn how to use the "lock pages" function in Final Draft...looks like it's a godsend.
4) You want a director like Tracy, who "directs fast"...and nicely. Gotta make quick decisions, give the actors what they need succinctly, watch the clock, move on.
5) Casting, casting, casting. ESPECIALLY in a staged reading/workshop, it's enormously helpful to have the kind of actors who give a great cold read, who will "get" the first three layers of what you're doing in your dialogue on the first read...so that you can use your workshop time to get to the OTHER five layers.
More to come...
Here are a few nuts-and-bolts things I'm learning, watching. These are, by the way, all things that are going RIGHT in the room.
1) Thumbdrives, thumbdrives, thumbdrives...it's amazing to be able to throw a new set of pages onto your thumbdrive, hand it to an intern, who can then go run off new copies for you.
2) Use a different color of page for new changes for each day...helps you keep track.
3) Gotta learn how to use the "lock pages" function in Final Draft...looks like it's a godsend.
4) You want a director like Tracy, who "directs fast"...and nicely. Gotta make quick decisions, give the actors what they need succinctly, watch the clock, move on.
5) Casting, casting, casting. ESPECIALLY in a staged reading/workshop, it's enormously helpful to have the kind of actors who give a great cold read, who will "get" the first three layers of what you're doing in your dialogue on the first read...so that you can use your workshop time to get to the OTHER five layers.
More to come...
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
All roads lead to...
I'm in Pittsburgh at the Momentum festival, at City Theatre. Watching new plays. Spent all of today at a workshop for the musical they're working on, "Long Story Short" by Brendan Milburn and Valerie Vigoda. It's the story of a man and a woman from their first date, through the ups and downs of their long, tumultous relationship. They drive each other crazy, they face tragedy, they part, they find each other again, they grow old together. The songs are funny and sweet and shmaltzy and it was a pleasure to hear them worked all day. I have several favorite songs, but the refrain that sticks talks about "sitting in our rocking chairs, watching grandkids playing on the lawn."
The Psyche Project, my big play for the summer, is about the many hurdles that a woman goes through to deserve the man (god, actually) she loves.
Have you noticed that, when you're working on a play, forces tend to conspire to teach you the lessons you need in order to write your play?
This is the Summer of Love. By which I mean "the summer in which the Universe has decided to bonk me over the head with the lessons about love that I had neglected to this point." Perhaps substitute "clobber" for "bonk". Learning, real learning, hurts like hell.
I am, intermittently, a total hysterical psychopath and a Love Yogi, as Zen as they come. I'm terrified and totally at peace.
Ah, but how does this relate to playwriting? Funny you should ask. Here's what I've got so far...
1) In playwriting, as in love, there are moments when you will feel discomfort (even pain). You will want to burn your scripts, you will want to erase your hard drive, you will want to run screaming from the work at hand. Don't. Breathe. Stretch into the hard places...those are the ones that have something to teach you.
2) In playwriting, as in love, there will be people who will tell you to abandon ship. They are not always wrong. They are not always right.
3) In playwriting, as in love, you must seek the balance between patience and caution. Patience is your friend. Caution (ie fear) is not.
4) In playwriting, as in love, you can make all the plans you want, develop all the outlines and checklists you want...but eventually you have to let go and see where the moment takes you...which will usually be someplace much messier, and more full of life, than whatever you'd planned. If you're looking for perfection, forget it. "Perfect" is another word for "dead."
5) In playwriting, as in love, it ISN'T ABOUT YOU. It isn't even about the play. It's about the play's relationship to the audience, about the messy, magical things that happen in the SPACE BETWEEN you and another opinionated, fragile, resilient, imperfect human being and everything that THEY bring to the table.
6) In playwriting, as in love, all I can do...all any of us can do...is articulate a best guess, pour another cup of tea, and face the blank page.
Yeah. I sorta knew some of this stuff, but it's only really starting to sink in now. And there's probably more coming. Bonk.
The Psyche Project, my big play for the summer, is about the many hurdles that a woman goes through to deserve the man (god, actually) she loves.
Have you noticed that, when you're working on a play, forces tend to conspire to teach you the lessons you need in order to write your play?
This is the Summer of Love. By which I mean "the summer in which the Universe has decided to bonk me over the head with the lessons about love that I had neglected to this point." Perhaps substitute "clobber" for "bonk". Learning, real learning, hurts like hell.
I am, intermittently, a total hysterical psychopath and a Love Yogi, as Zen as they come. I'm terrified and totally at peace.
Ah, but how does this relate to playwriting? Funny you should ask. Here's what I've got so far...
1) In playwriting, as in love, there are moments when you will feel discomfort (even pain). You will want to burn your scripts, you will want to erase your hard drive, you will want to run screaming from the work at hand. Don't. Breathe. Stretch into the hard places...those are the ones that have something to teach you.
2) In playwriting, as in love, there will be people who will tell you to abandon ship. They are not always wrong. They are not always right.
3) In playwriting, as in love, you must seek the balance between patience and caution. Patience is your friend. Caution (ie fear) is not.
4) In playwriting, as in love, you can make all the plans you want, develop all the outlines and checklists you want...but eventually you have to let go and see where the moment takes you...which will usually be someplace much messier, and more full of life, than whatever you'd planned. If you're looking for perfection, forget it. "Perfect" is another word for "dead."
5) In playwriting, as in love, it ISN'T ABOUT YOU. It isn't even about the play. It's about the play's relationship to the audience, about the messy, magical things that happen in the SPACE BETWEEN you and another opinionated, fragile, resilient, imperfect human being and everything that THEY bring to the table.
6) In playwriting, as in love, all I can do...all any of us can do...is articulate a best guess, pour another cup of tea, and face the blank page.
Yeah. I sorta knew some of this stuff, but it's only really starting to sink in now. And there's probably more coming. Bonk.
Monday, June 9, 2008
The Loop
If you're a playwright, and you don't subscribe to The Loop, you probably should. This is the latest from Gary Garrison, who's in charge of the thing.
Yeah, it’s beginning to make more and more sense to me. As I travel
around the country and meet more and more artistic directors, literary
managers and producers, and I contextualize them in the common cry
of most playwrights I know (“We need more productions!”), I’m slowly
realizing that if really we want things to change, clearly we’ll have to take
matters into our own hands.
I was in Seattle a couple of weeks ago and met with a lot of play-
wrights and almost twelve (!) members of the producing community
there. Representatives from the largest (and consequently, most presti-
gious) theatres were present. The panel then scaled down from the large
theatres all the way to the smallest, tiniest, barely-surviving theatre (lit-
erally, a converted home garage where an adult hand-puppet show ran
for months). Playwrights peopled the audience and you could instantly
feel that “us against them” energy that hangs over meetings like this.
Inevitably the question was posed to the big theatres: “Why won’t
you produce local playwrights -- playwrights that are literally in your own
back yard?” I watched the panel people shift in their chairs, their faces
immediately demonstrating the war-torn fatigue when trying to form a
peaceful answer to this question. Rising out of the ashen looks of the
panel was the voice belonging to a man named Jerry.
Jerry (on staff at the largest of all the theatres) calmly looked up and
said, “Because every time I do, I lose anywhere from $25-50,000 at the
box office, and then I have to fire someone on my staff. It’s not that
we don’t love you, but we’re a regional theatre that depends on our
subscribers. And our subscribers depend on us to bring them the latest
from Broadway, or the Pulitzer Prize winner, or the Tony winner. Period.
End of story. And I know it’s not the story you want to hear, but it’s the
only one I can tell with honesty . . . and even compassion.”
Fuckin’ A. Bravo, Jerry. Yeah, no one wanted to hear it. But you told
the truth. You were courageous in a way I’ve hardly ever seen from any-
one in your position. It took balls, my man, but every playwright lucky to
be in the room now know where they stand with you and your theatre.
But the brilliance didn’t end there. What fell out of Jerry’s honesty
was a call from all the theatre people in the room to embrace the notion
of playwrights producing playwrights (13P in New York, Playwrights 6
in Los Angeles), or small theatres banning together to co-produce (and
hence share the risk) the overwhelming number of original plays, or how
about this idea: self-production.
I can hear your groan from here. Self-production? Ewwwwww. Look,
the “vanity production” argument is tired and old and something too
many of us embrace because we want someone else to pay for our candy
bar. Okay, I get it. But baby, if you don’t see anybody with their change
purse out and poised for you, wouldn’t you like to do something beyond
standing there feeling helpless?
Yeah, it’s beginning to make more and more sense to me. As I travel
around the country and meet more and more artistic directors, literary
managers and producers, and I contextualize them in the common cry
of most playwrights I know (“We need more productions!”), I’m slowly
realizing that if really we want things to change, clearly we’ll have to take
matters into our own hands.
I was in Seattle a couple of weeks ago and met with a lot of play-
wrights and almost twelve (!) members of the producing community
there. Representatives from the largest (and consequently, most presti-
gious) theatres were present. The panel then scaled down from the large
theatres all the way to the smallest, tiniest, barely-surviving theatre (lit-
erally, a converted home garage where an adult hand-puppet show ran
for months). Playwrights peopled the audience and you could instantly
feel that “us against them” energy that hangs over meetings like this.
Inevitably the question was posed to the big theatres: “Why won’t
you produce local playwrights -- playwrights that are literally in your own
back yard?” I watched the panel people shift in their chairs, their faces
immediately demonstrating the war-torn fatigue when trying to form a
peaceful answer to this question. Rising out of the ashen looks of the
panel was the voice belonging to a man named Jerry.
Jerry (on staff at the largest of all the theatres) calmly looked up and
said, “Because every time I do, I lose anywhere from $25-50,000 at the
box office, and then I have to fire someone on my staff. It’s not that
we don’t love you, but we’re a regional theatre that depends on our
subscribers. And our subscribers depend on us to bring them the latest
from Broadway, or the Pulitzer Prize winner, or the Tony winner. Period.
End of story. And I know it’s not the story you want to hear, but it’s the
only one I can tell with honesty . . . and even compassion.”
Fuckin’ A. Bravo, Jerry. Yeah, no one wanted to hear it. But you told
the truth. You were courageous in a way I’ve hardly ever seen from any-
one in your position. It took balls, my man, but every playwright lucky to
be in the room now know where they stand with you and your theatre.
But the brilliance didn’t end there. What fell out of Jerry’s honesty
was a call from all the theatre people in the room to embrace the notion
of playwrights producing playwrights (13P in New York, Playwrights 6
in Los Angeles), or small theatres banning together to co-produce (and
hence share the risk) the overwhelming number of original plays, or how
about this idea: self-production.
I can hear your groan from here. Self-production? Ewwwwww. Look,
the “vanity production” argument is tired and old and something too
many of us embrace because we want someone else to pay for our candy
bar. Okay, I get it. But baby, if you don’t see anybody with their change
purse out and poised for you, wouldn’t you like to do something beyond
standing there feeling helpless?
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Sincerity and Irony
Are the salt and pepper of theater-making.
Sincerity alone will kill an evening pretty quick, I think. There is little "lightness" (see Sarah Ruhl's discussion in this spring's New Yorker article, but really see Italo Calvino, from whom she borrows) in Sincerity, especially with a capital "S." Earnest characters earnestly pursuing their earnest goals...is that a show you're gonna see? We go to the theater to be entertained, and sincerity has a way of rolling that flat.
Irony, though...we live in the "age of Irony," no? The Hipster, the culture of internet, the 'zine...I'm using lazy, lazy shorthand here, but there's the sense that we're awash in irony, that it's the distanced, distancing position from which one regards the present world climate, in order to SURVIVE that climate. Still, at some point, Irony (capital I) is SO light, SO biting that you can walk away from it feeling...bitten. We go to the theater to be moved, and irony may not be up for the job.
So the question is how to balance them, how to be versed in, but never entirely seduced by, both of them.
All this because I'm trying to decide, tonight, between seeing "W;t" or "Avenue Q."
Sincerity alone will kill an evening pretty quick, I think. There is little "lightness" (see Sarah Ruhl's discussion in this spring's New Yorker article, but really see Italo Calvino, from whom she borrows) in Sincerity, especially with a capital "S." Earnest characters earnestly pursuing their earnest goals...is that a show you're gonna see? We go to the theater to be entertained, and sincerity has a way of rolling that flat.
Irony, though...we live in the "age of Irony," no? The Hipster, the culture of internet, the 'zine...I'm using lazy, lazy shorthand here, but there's the sense that we're awash in irony, that it's the distanced, distancing position from which one regards the present world climate, in order to SURVIVE that climate. Still, at some point, Irony (capital I) is SO light, SO biting that you can walk away from it feeling...bitten. We go to the theater to be moved, and irony may not be up for the job.
So the question is how to balance them, how to be versed in, but never entirely seduced by, both of them.
All this because I'm trying to decide, tonight, between seeing "W;t" or "Avenue Q."
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Art, Life, Cancer
My theater company is doing W;t.
My friend has Cancer.
He's keeping a blog.
Several posts ago, I mentioned that we are the same playwrights as we are people (the same teachers as we are people...etc). If this is true, and I think it is, then that necessarily expands the scope of this blog (and you may have noticed a shift in postings since I brought it up). The work of our lives IS our lives, not in a selfish "I'm going to go do yoga and talk about myself all the time" way...although admittedly I'm not above that... but in a "how can I connect the moments and days and interactions with the broader sweep of how I/WE move through the world, learn from the world, contribute TO the world, and make art or whatever we make in the world."
My friend, La M, or Cancer Cupcake, as he is affectionately known, is very good at this, I think.
His blog is a daily inspiration.
Today he talks about food, the taste of it, getting as much of these amazing tastes as he can before Chemo starts.
I will be commenting on his blog occasionally, and checking it often. I recommend it. A daily meditation on illness, life, community.
http://www.squirrelsintheattic.info/
My friend has Cancer.
He's keeping a blog.
Several posts ago, I mentioned that we are the same playwrights as we are people (the same teachers as we are people...etc). If this is true, and I think it is, then that necessarily expands the scope of this blog (and you may have noticed a shift in postings since I brought it up). The work of our lives IS our lives, not in a selfish "I'm going to go do yoga and talk about myself all the time" way...although admittedly I'm not above that... but in a "how can I connect the moments and days and interactions with the broader sweep of how I/WE move through the world, learn from the world, contribute TO the world, and make art or whatever we make in the world."
My friend, La M, or Cancer Cupcake, as he is affectionately known, is very good at this, I think.
His blog is a daily inspiration.
Today he talks about food, the taste of it, getting as much of these amazing tastes as he can before Chemo starts.
I will be commenting on his blog occasionally, and checking it often. I recommend it. A daily meditation on illness, life, community.
http://www.squirrelsintheattic.info/
Crazy Idea
You know what would be really awesome?
A city-wide searchable database with the name, email, cell phone, and headshot of every actor in a city, that could be cross-referenced by gender, ethnicity, languages spoken, and age range. You could get really fancy and upload resumes? You could get really smart and note when people move or quit acting.
Apparently Remy Bumppo in Chicago has something similar. OMG, the time this would save when casting.
Why'd I think of this? Because I just spent the last three days chasing down last-minute replacement actors. And my other friend is casting a show and it's driving him crazy. And I know there are jazzy sites like that in NYC and Chicago, but they seem more corporate and less nuts-and-bolts than what I'm talking about...just something you could use to make a general call-sheet for auditions.
A city-wide searchable database with the name, email, cell phone, and headshot of every actor in a city, that could be cross-referenced by gender, ethnicity, languages spoken, and age range. You could get really fancy and upload resumes? You could get really smart and note when people move or quit acting.
Apparently Remy Bumppo in Chicago has something similar. OMG, the time this would save when casting.
Why'd I think of this? Because I just spent the last three days chasing down last-minute replacement actors. And my other friend is casting a show and it's driving him crazy. And I know there are jazzy sites like that in NYC and Chicago, but they seem more corporate and less nuts-and-bolts than what I'm talking about...just something you could use to make a general call-sheet for auditions.
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