This past Friday, the company that's going to work with me to create my new play gathered for the first time. Well, most of the company. Our director is at Williamstown, working on another project, and one of the actors is in rehearsal for something else. But the bulk of us were there, on the 6th Floor of the Ensemble Studio Theatre, sitting around the table, looking at a partial outline and discussing the world of the play and how I'm trying to build this play. For a first rehearsal with no script to speak of and an nearly finished outline that just rolled off the presses, it was incredibly productive. Just being in the room with these four awesome actors and watching them interact with each other and ask smart questions about the characters as I described them was food for the play. Since this play revolves around families, both natural and created, feeling the sense of what it's like to have these people together is key. And since the characters are being built specifically for these actors, hearing their voices, talking about family, weddings, politics, whatever just helps create the world we'll be living in.
Of course, I had to hide the incredible terror I felt knowing that in about six weeks, I'll have to have a play. That's a bit, well, terrifying. But it's better to be off and running.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Anarchist: A Comedy - Act 2 Outline
Act Two
Scene 6: In Which The Betrayals Begin
Jodie sends her mother an e-mail, wondering why she hasn’t heard from her in so long and asking if she’s seen or heard from Roger. Roger’s been harassing Jodie, looking for information about Barbara. Roger shows up at Barbara’s, looking for real intel. The conference has begun and the first day was marred by chaotic protests and he and his group need to know if the protesters are going to get their act together to do something organized. Barbara tries to find out what happened to the protesters from him, but he presses her, finally threatening her home and her family. Barbara tries to distract him by invoking their own past and even attempting to seduce him. She and Roger are interrupted, though, by Shango. Shango stands up to Roger and chases him off. The protests fell apart and he and Athena were separated. Barbara and Shango share a moment of concern and connection. They’re interrupted by Joachim, still acting squirelly. Athena arrives, upset that she lost Shango and that the protests fell into chaos. They’re planning a bigger thing for the next day, and Athena pushes Shango to hold it all together. Finally Orst arrives, bloodied and beaten by the police during the protest.
Scene 7: In Which Action is Considered and Re-considered
Alex sends his mother an e-mail, complaining about Roger harassing him as well, and trying to figure out what’s going on with Barbara. She ignores it. It’s later that night. Orst is resting on the couch and Barbara is ministering to him. Shango and Athena are arguing in the backyard about how this affects their plans. Shango wants to step up their action, do something more dramatic and effective. Athena think they should stick to their plan. Barbara comes out and joins them. Athena is reluctant to include Barbara in their plans, in order to protect her, but Shango decides to include her. They were planning to break into the hotel hosting the event, hanging a banner out of the building and spreading fake blood all over the hallways. Barbara encourages Shango to take it further, especially given what’s happened to Orst. Athena argues against any escalation, which would lead to more violence. Orst rises to remind her that violence has already started and if there’s going to be any change it has to be met equally. Athena rejects all of that, and reminds Shango that they’ve already tried violence and it didn’t work. She admits that they’re on the run for a series of environmental arson attacks. She wants change, but is no longer willing to risk her life or anyone else’s to get it. Shango finally agrees with her and they head off. Orst tries to tell him that he found an old, bomb-making friend at the protest and he could give them supplies. Shango tells him they don’t want any. But, when they’re gone, Barbara asks him for more information about his friend and the bomb.
Scene 8: In Which The Best Laid Plans Go Awry
Roger sends Barbara an e-mail, thanking her for providing such useful information, finally and assuring her that a check will be on the way. Barbara is watching the demonstration on television. It’s total chaos, again, but even worse. The police are overreacting, the demonstrators are nearly rioting, it’s awful. The police response is so coordinated, it’s like they know what’s coming. She’s obviously very upset about what she’s seeing. As she watches, Joachim enters. Barbara’s surprised to see him. She expected that he would be at the protests. He hems and haws, hiding a bag behind him. Finally, Barbara gets him to tell her his secret: he loves the circus. It’s not really about the animals or the activism for him. He always wanted to be a clown, but his family pushed him to do something “meaningful.” But he’s found happiness in the circus. He isn’t sure if that’s enough. Barbara is at a loss. They both watch the news unfold.
Scene 9: In Which Revelations Leads To Action
In the aftermath of the disastrous day, Shango, Athena and Orst try to piece together what happened. Barbara is out, getting food. Orst is pretty sure they were betrayed by someone from the inside, but Athena refuses to believe that. Orst can’t see any other way that the authorities knew as much about their actions as they seemed to. Although they all just barely managed to escape the police, Athena thinks it’s not a total waste. They can use the still-roiling anger of the protesters as leverage to force a meeting with the conference attendees. If they fear more chaos for the final day, and Shango and Athena can keep the protesters at bay, that could give them the upper hand in negotiating. Shango is frustrated at that plan, feeling like it won’t be enough. Their argument gets pretty heated. When Athena storms off, Shango asks Orst about his friend the bombmaker. Orst says he lost track of him during the protest. Shango has been further radicalized by the events of the day and wants to take more drastic action. Orst says he can make a few calls and see what he can find out. Barbara arrives to find Shango alone, still fuming about it all. He vents to her about his feelings of helplessness and loss of control. They bond over that feeling, and Barbara says that they can do something about it. She tries to show him what she’s got in her bag, but they’re interrupted by Roger. He’s come to negotiate on behalf of the conference. Shango is shocked to find that he knows Barbara. He outs her as an operative. Shango won’t believe her when she protests and storms out. As he goes, Athena comes down, far more professionally dressed. She’s actually the person who called Roger. She had provided inside information on the protests to him in an effort to win a place at the table. Barbara is shocked that she would betray everyone, but Athena argues that it’s the only way to make real change. She and Roger head off to meet with the bigwigs. Joachim enters, heading out to leave town with the circus. Barbara is left with her mysterious bag. Orst reappears, having been unsuccessful in his attempts to find more bombmaking materials. He admits that he wasn’t really trying all that hard. He likes the protests, the easy love and the conversation, but all of the drama just gets in the way. He didn’t really expect Shango to take him so seriously and want to take action. He figures that the last day will be a bust, so he’s already heading down to Mexico to protest at a resort or two. Once he’s gone, Barbara opens her bag to reveal a bomb. Shango re-enters and finds her with it. She says that she wanted to do something to take action and make real change. Shango tries to talk her down and get the bomb away from her, but she won’t let it go. The family she’s built is dissolving around her and she can’t stand it. Shango tries to talk her down as she becomes more frantic. As it seems like she’s going to set the bomb off, Shango grabs it from her. Athena returns for some of her paperwork and materials, and sees Shango with the bomb. She freaks out and starts calling the police. Shango goes to get rid of the bomb in the backyard, but it goes off. Barbara and Athena are left in the wreckage.
Scene 10: In Which A Death Has Consequences and Decisions Are Made
Barbara sits in the wreckage of her living room, bandaged and wrapped up. Jodie and Roger are there. Alex didn’t even bother to come back. They’re obviously distraught about what’s happened to her and the house. Jodie is now threatening to stay and take charge of her mother’s life. Roger is in agreement. Barbara clearly can’t be left on her own, they reason. They’re going to fix up the house, maybe sell it, move her away. Barbara takes it all in, not speaking. Jodie and Roger get frustrated with her and demand that she explain what’s been happening. She doesn’t answer them. She just gets up and goes to her computer, and checks her e-mail. They try to get her to focus, but she ignores them. She opens an e-mail from Joachim. She sees him in full clown regalia, juggling. He tells her how happy he is in the circus, how it’s where he’s always wanted to be and the important thing in life is finding the things that make you happy. Barbara laughs with joy at Joachim’s tricks and joy. The lights fade on her.
-End of Play-
Scene 6: In Which The Betrayals Begin
Jodie sends her mother an e-mail, wondering why she hasn’t heard from her in so long and asking if she’s seen or heard from Roger. Roger’s been harassing Jodie, looking for information about Barbara. Roger shows up at Barbara’s, looking for real intel. The conference has begun and the first day was marred by chaotic protests and he and his group need to know if the protesters are going to get their act together to do something organized. Barbara tries to find out what happened to the protesters from him, but he presses her, finally threatening her home and her family. Barbara tries to distract him by invoking their own past and even attempting to seduce him. She and Roger are interrupted, though, by Shango. Shango stands up to Roger and chases him off. The protests fell apart and he and Athena were separated. Barbara and Shango share a moment of concern and connection. They’re interrupted by Joachim, still acting squirelly. Athena arrives, upset that she lost Shango and that the protests fell into chaos. They’re planning a bigger thing for the next day, and Athena pushes Shango to hold it all together. Finally Orst arrives, bloodied and beaten by the police during the protest.
Scene 7: In Which Action is Considered and Re-considered
Alex sends his mother an e-mail, complaining about Roger harassing him as well, and trying to figure out what’s going on with Barbara. She ignores it. It’s later that night. Orst is resting on the couch and Barbara is ministering to him. Shango and Athena are arguing in the backyard about how this affects their plans. Shango wants to step up their action, do something more dramatic and effective. Athena think they should stick to their plan. Barbara comes out and joins them. Athena is reluctant to include Barbara in their plans, in order to protect her, but Shango decides to include her. They were planning to break into the hotel hosting the event, hanging a banner out of the building and spreading fake blood all over the hallways. Barbara encourages Shango to take it further, especially given what’s happened to Orst. Athena argues against any escalation, which would lead to more violence. Orst rises to remind her that violence has already started and if there’s going to be any change it has to be met equally. Athena rejects all of that, and reminds Shango that they’ve already tried violence and it didn’t work. She admits that they’re on the run for a series of environmental arson attacks. She wants change, but is no longer willing to risk her life or anyone else’s to get it. Shango finally agrees with her and they head off. Orst tries to tell him that he found an old, bomb-making friend at the protest and he could give them supplies. Shango tells him they don’t want any. But, when they’re gone, Barbara asks him for more information about his friend and the bomb.
Scene 8: In Which The Best Laid Plans Go Awry
Roger sends Barbara an e-mail, thanking her for providing such useful information, finally and assuring her that a check will be on the way. Barbara is watching the demonstration on television. It’s total chaos, again, but even worse. The police are overreacting, the demonstrators are nearly rioting, it’s awful. The police response is so coordinated, it’s like they know what’s coming. She’s obviously very upset about what she’s seeing. As she watches, Joachim enters. Barbara’s surprised to see him. She expected that he would be at the protests. He hems and haws, hiding a bag behind him. Finally, Barbara gets him to tell her his secret: he loves the circus. It’s not really about the animals or the activism for him. He always wanted to be a clown, but his family pushed him to do something “meaningful.” But he’s found happiness in the circus. He isn’t sure if that’s enough. Barbara is at a loss. They both watch the news unfold.
Scene 9: In Which Revelations Leads To Action
In the aftermath of the disastrous day, Shango, Athena and Orst try to piece together what happened. Barbara is out, getting food. Orst is pretty sure they were betrayed by someone from the inside, but Athena refuses to believe that. Orst can’t see any other way that the authorities knew as much about their actions as they seemed to. Although they all just barely managed to escape the police, Athena thinks it’s not a total waste. They can use the still-roiling anger of the protesters as leverage to force a meeting with the conference attendees. If they fear more chaos for the final day, and Shango and Athena can keep the protesters at bay, that could give them the upper hand in negotiating. Shango is frustrated at that plan, feeling like it won’t be enough. Their argument gets pretty heated. When Athena storms off, Shango asks Orst about his friend the bombmaker. Orst says he lost track of him during the protest. Shango has been further radicalized by the events of the day and wants to take more drastic action. Orst says he can make a few calls and see what he can find out. Barbara arrives to find Shango alone, still fuming about it all. He vents to her about his feelings of helplessness and loss of control. They bond over that feeling, and Barbara says that they can do something about it. She tries to show him what she’s got in her bag, but they’re interrupted by Roger. He’s come to negotiate on behalf of the conference. Shango is shocked to find that he knows Barbara. He outs her as an operative. Shango won’t believe her when she protests and storms out. As he goes, Athena comes down, far more professionally dressed. She’s actually the person who called Roger. She had provided inside information on the protests to him in an effort to win a place at the table. Barbara is shocked that she would betray everyone, but Athena argues that it’s the only way to make real change. She and Roger head off to meet with the bigwigs. Joachim enters, heading out to leave town with the circus. Barbara is left with her mysterious bag. Orst reappears, having been unsuccessful in his attempts to find more bombmaking materials. He admits that he wasn’t really trying all that hard. He likes the protests, the easy love and the conversation, but all of the drama just gets in the way. He didn’t really expect Shango to take him so seriously and want to take action. He figures that the last day will be a bust, so he’s already heading down to Mexico to protest at a resort or two. Once he’s gone, Barbara opens her bag to reveal a bomb. Shango re-enters and finds her with it. She says that she wanted to do something to take action and make real change. Shango tries to talk her down and get the bomb away from her, but she won’t let it go. The family she’s built is dissolving around her and she can’t stand it. Shango tries to talk her down as she becomes more frantic. As it seems like she’s going to set the bomb off, Shango grabs it from her. Athena returns for some of her paperwork and materials, and sees Shango with the bomb. She freaks out and starts calling the police. Shango goes to get rid of the bomb in the backyard, but it goes off. Barbara and Athena are left in the wreckage.
Scene 10: In Which A Death Has Consequences and Decisions Are Made
Barbara sits in the wreckage of her living room, bandaged and wrapped up. Jodie and Roger are there. Alex didn’t even bother to come back. They’re obviously distraught about what’s happened to her and the house. Jodie is now threatening to stay and take charge of her mother’s life. Roger is in agreement. Barbara clearly can’t be left on her own, they reason. They’re going to fix up the house, maybe sell it, move her away. Barbara takes it all in, not speaking. Jodie and Roger get frustrated with her and demand that she explain what’s been happening. She doesn’t answer them. She just gets up and goes to her computer, and checks her e-mail. They try to get her to focus, but she ignores them. She opens an e-mail from Joachim. She sees him in full clown regalia, juggling. He tells her how happy he is in the circus, how it’s where he’s always wanted to be and the important thing in life is finding the things that make you happy. Barbara laughs with joy at Joachim’s tricks and joy. The lights fade on her.
-End of Play-
Anarchists: A Comedy - Act 1 Outline
ANARCHISTS: A COMEDY
Outline and Character Breakdown
CHARACTERS:
BARBARA
JODIE/ATHENA
ALEX/JOACHIM
ROGER/ORST
SHANGO
Setting: A nice house in a development, not too far from a large-ish city in the western part of the
Time: The summer of 2008.
OUTLINE
Scene 1: In Which A Death Has Consequences and Decisions Are Made
It’s the afternoon of Bob DeWitt’s funeral. His son and daughter, Alex and Jodie, and his best friend, Roger, wait for Bob’s widow, Barbara, to pull herself together. It takes some time. They need her to come to some decisions about what’s going to happen now that Bob is gone. Roger lets them know that Bob’s business investments hadn’t done as well as he’d hoped, and the family is now broke and in danger of losing their house. They need to decide now, because Alex and Jodie are out of there, ASAP, and Roger needs to focus on work. Barbara isn’t sure how she’s going to pull herself together and keep the house. Everyone reminds her of what a bullying jerk Bob was, and how they’ve all hoped and waited for the day they were free of him. Jodie, in particular, yells at her mother for being a doormat all these years and being unable to stand up for herself or do anything proactive because of Bob’s iron rule. She declares herself done with her family unless they can get their act together. Alex is similarly detached, lost in a haze of alcohol. He and Jodie leave Barbara and Roger to figure it out. Barbara is confused and distraught. Roger makes a pass at her, but she rebuffs him. He offers her a job to get out of the pit they’re in: his security firm needs intel on a group of radicals coming to town to protest a conference. He wants her to let them in her house and gather information. Barbara isn’t ready to do anything like that. He says that she’s in a desperate situation and will need to do something. He leaves her the web address of a listserv for radicals.
Scene 2: In Which A Connection Is Made
Barbara is deeply ambivalent about going on the internet to check out the listserv, but finally, with a little liquid courage, she goes on and reads some of the postings. We see the people as she reads. Joachim, a young man, who’s following the circus, spying on their animal treatment is one. Orst, a middle-aged European of nebulous origin and not particularly great English, is backpacking across the
Scene 3: In Which New Tricks are Learned and Old Dogs are Discussed
Joachim is the first to arrive. He’s a quiet, studious young man, recently dropped out from a good college back east. His parents are quite supportive of his new lifestyle, almost to the point of pushing him into it. He’s quite nervous about his audition for the circus the next day. He’s been working on various tricks in order to impress them. Barbara isn’t sure how to deal with him, but watches his tricks and tries to help him out. She remembers how her own son liked to juggle when he was young and they talk about childhood pets. She connects with him and sends him off to bed. After he’s gone, she sits down to e-mail Roger, but leaves out the details of Joachim’s circus mission.
Scene 4: In Which The
The next night, Orst has arrived and the three of them are celebrating Joachim’s successful audition. Orst is convivial and charming. He’s very
Scene 5: In Which The Gods Arrive
Finally, Athena and Shango arrive at Barbara’s. They are seemingly very in sync, even though they’re quite different. Athena is a bit of hippie, and Shango is a bit of a punk. They are clearly quite close and have a real bond. They are also clearly hiding something. When Barbara asks about their names, they clam up and evade. They also talk in code about an big event they’re planning, a major action at the event. Shango and Orst bond, sharing visions of revolution and dramatic acts against the establishment and Athena and Barbara bond. Joachim enters, but is also clearly hiding something. Barbara, though, brings the whole group together for a “family dinner.” Although they’re strangers to her and new to the house, Barbara is happy to have people in the house. They share a toast together to the future.
- End of Act 1 -
Writing Anarchist: Diary #3
Page count: 5 (Well, five pages of outline)
I'm not usually much of an outliner in general. I'm more of a stewer, mulling over an idea or storyline for months, years, however long, before I sit down and do the writing. But doing this open-source, develop the play with actors thing means having to work a little differently. Hence: an outline. And it was actually okay to do. Not so much fun, but interesting. Writing an outline, at this stage for me, is mostly all about figuring out the structure of the thing. And that's kind of the fun part. I like seeing how things can play out, what the possibilities are. It's just a guideline, but it's a start.
Here's another departure: I'm going to post it here. Not really how these things go, but since I'm trying out this whole "open-source" playwriting thing, it seems like the thing to do. Read it, share your thoughts or ideas. It's a rough outline, getting the shape of the thing down. Hopefully it won't be a huge spoiler for you.
More to come...
I'm not usually much of an outliner in general. I'm more of a stewer, mulling over an idea or storyline for months, years, however long, before I sit down and do the writing. But doing this open-source, develop the play with actors thing means having to work a little differently. Hence: an outline. And it was actually okay to do. Not so much fun, but interesting. Writing an outline, at this stage for me, is mostly all about figuring out the structure of the thing. And that's kind of the fun part. I like seeing how things can play out, what the possibilities are. It's just a guideline, but it's a start.
Here's another departure: I'm going to post it here. Not really how these things go, but since I'm trying out this whole "open-source" playwriting thing, it seems like the thing to do. Read it, share your thoughts or ideas. It's a rough outline, getting the shape of the thing down. Hopefully it won't be a huge spoiler for you.
More to come...
Friday, June 26, 2009
What To Say
Yesterday was surreal. That's really the only way to put it. I was home from work all day, not feeling well, and coming off one of those catastrophic mornings where doing even the smallest simplest things turns into a complete fiasco. Checking status updates on Facebook, it seemed like I wasn't the only one, either. Mercury was in retrograde or something for everybody. Just a miserable day to sit on the couch, feeling bad and feeling sorry for yourself.
And then it all went kind of pear-shaped.
The death of Farrah Fawcett wasn't exactly a surprise, but still a sad thing. But that was overshadowed by the death of Michael Jackson. And I'm still processing it all. How it went from odd, unbelievable rumor to repeated possibly funny gossip to creeping truth to the final, almost anti-climatic confirmation. I waited to hear it from Wolf Blitzer. Somehow, CNN saying it made it true. And then he did. And it was weird.
I found myself on the verge of tears. Really, seriously about to cry over this man that I didn't know, never met, would probably never met, whose new music I hadn't listened to in 10 years, who disgusted and fascinated me, who I made terrible, terrible jokes about. Why the hell would I be sitting on my couch, crying over someone we all reasonable believe to be a child molester? Because he could sing and dance? Is that enough?
This tidal wave of grief and reminisces and emotion has gotten some people I know talking about the nature of celebrity and you have to think about what it all means. Why do these deaths matter? In Iran, in Zimbabwe, in Iraq, yesterday, hundreds, maybe more died. Does this one person, or do these two people really matter more? Our government is trying to remake our healthcare system to benefit millions, put us on the path of fixing our environment, not to mention managing an economy that's cratered on greed and selfishness. Yet for five hours everyone stopped talking about any of that to talk about this one person. Why? Just because he could sing and dance?
Yes. And because he meant so much more than that. This morning I read this from Hilzoy, and it reminded me that, these two people, celebrities, yes. Strange and tragic figures, absolutely. Not exactly role models or people whose lives you want anyone you love to emulate, yep. But they were more than pretty faces and pretty voices. Really, they were.
Growing up black in a very white town, Michael Jackson made it...better. He was cool, and oddly sexy (in an unisex way), and white people loved him. He brought the dancing, the spirit of the parties I had with my family out into the world and made it okay for all. He was a bridge between the worlds.
When I think of Farrah Fawcett, I honestly don't think of Charlie's Angels. Well, okay, I think of the poster, fine. But I think of The Burning Bed and Extremities and how that opened up a world for me. She may not be a feminist icon, not at all, but in a way, that was the beginning of feminism for me.
They filled those roles, served that purpose and both of them paid incredible prices for that. Both of them suffered loss we can't really comprehend, even though we watched it, and sacrificed happiness so that we could all feel a little happier. So I feel like we can take a moment and let them know we cared.
When my dad put these lyrics in his status update, that was when I almost lost it.
And then it all went kind of pear-shaped.
The death of Farrah Fawcett wasn't exactly a surprise, but still a sad thing. But that was overshadowed by the death of Michael Jackson. And I'm still processing it all. How it went from odd, unbelievable rumor to repeated possibly funny gossip to creeping truth to the final, almost anti-climatic confirmation. I waited to hear it from Wolf Blitzer. Somehow, CNN saying it made it true. And then he did. And it was weird.
I found myself on the verge of tears. Really, seriously about to cry over this man that I didn't know, never met, would probably never met, whose new music I hadn't listened to in 10 years, who disgusted and fascinated me, who I made terrible, terrible jokes about. Why the hell would I be sitting on my couch, crying over someone we all reasonable believe to be a child molester? Because he could sing and dance? Is that enough?
This tidal wave of grief and reminisces and emotion has gotten some people I know talking about the nature of celebrity and you have to think about what it all means. Why do these deaths matter? In Iran, in Zimbabwe, in Iraq, yesterday, hundreds, maybe more died. Does this one person, or do these two people really matter more? Our government is trying to remake our healthcare system to benefit millions, put us on the path of fixing our environment, not to mention managing an economy that's cratered on greed and selfishness. Yet for five hours everyone stopped talking about any of that to talk about this one person. Why? Just because he could sing and dance?
Yes. And because he meant so much more than that. This morning I read this from Hilzoy, and it reminded me that, these two people, celebrities, yes. Strange and tragic figures, absolutely. Not exactly role models or people whose lives you want anyone you love to emulate, yep. But they were more than pretty faces and pretty voices. Really, they were.
Growing up black in a very white town, Michael Jackson made it...better. He was cool, and oddly sexy (in an unisex way), and white people loved him. He brought the dancing, the spirit of the parties I had with my family out into the world and made it okay for all. He was a bridge between the worlds.
When I think of Farrah Fawcett, I honestly don't think of Charlie's Angels. Well, okay, I think of the poster, fine. But I think of The Burning Bed and Extremities and how that opened up a world for me. She may not be a feminist icon, not at all, but in a way, that was the beginning of feminism for me.
They filled those roles, served that purpose and both of them paid incredible prices for that. Both of them suffered loss we can't really comprehend, even though we watched it, and sacrificed happiness so that we could all feel a little happier. So I feel like we can take a moment and let them know we cared.
When my dad put these lyrics in his status update, that was when I almost lost it.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Great Writing on Writing
As someone who's often mined my own life and the lives of my friends for my work, I really, really appreciated this.
Writing Anarchists: Diary #2
Page count: 0. Yes, still 0.
This is the calm before the holy God how the hell do I write this play what the flying freak was I thinking storm hits. After I finish something, there's always a down time, a recovery period. I just finished my last play, January 2nd, a couple of weeks ago and so I've need to vege out, watch tv, hang out, refill the spiritual coffers. Also, since this project is a little different, I had to spend some theatre energy on putting together the cast. Which is awesome, might I add. I'm a member at the Ensemble Studio Theatre, one of the last membership companies in New York that develops new plays. I've always wanted to be a part of an ensemble and E.S.T.'s is a great one. This project, since it's being developed at E.S.T., is entirely cast with members, actually the first time I've been able to do it. And they've all jumped in, sight unseen, without a script, or even a full outline (though they'll have one by Friday). It's a nice feeling, especially since a couple of these folks I haven't worked with before. A couple of them I have and they're among my favorite people to work with. So, all kinds of yay.
A little bit about this project: it's a bit different from anything I've worked on, especially recently. A lot of my plays, for whatever reasons, have really been love stories about people my age. You write what you know, right? Well, I did spend a lot of time on one thriller about plagiarism, and my commissioned play was about a middle-aged couple, but, by and large, I've been working in a bit of a comfort zone. This one is heading outside of that a bit. And it's heading into something that's definitely outside of my comfort zone: politics. This will be a play about politics, radicalism, the effectiveness of protest and revolution. Which is interesting, given recent world events. But don't worry! It's a comedy. I swear. Just...a dark one. With bombs and such.
I'll have an outline ready in the next day or so and post it. Should be interesting.
That's my story. And I'm sticking to it.
This is the calm before the holy God how the hell do I write this play what the flying freak was I thinking storm hits. After I finish something, there's always a down time, a recovery period. I just finished my last play, January 2nd, a couple of weeks ago and so I've need to vege out, watch tv, hang out, refill the spiritual coffers. Also, since this project is a little different, I had to spend some theatre energy on putting together the cast. Which is awesome, might I add. I'm a member at the Ensemble Studio Theatre, one of the last membership companies in New York that develops new plays. I've always wanted to be a part of an ensemble and E.S.T.'s is a great one. This project, since it's being developed at E.S.T., is entirely cast with members, actually the first time I've been able to do it. And they've all jumped in, sight unseen, without a script, or even a full outline (though they'll have one by Friday). It's a nice feeling, especially since a couple of these folks I haven't worked with before. A couple of them I have and they're among my favorite people to work with. So, all kinds of yay.
A little bit about this project: it's a bit different from anything I've worked on, especially recently. A lot of my plays, for whatever reasons, have really been love stories about people my age. You write what you know, right? Well, I did spend a lot of time on one thriller about plagiarism, and my commissioned play was about a middle-aged couple, but, by and large, I've been working in a bit of a comfort zone. This one is heading outside of that a bit. And it's heading into something that's definitely outside of my comfort zone: politics. This will be a play about politics, radicalism, the effectiveness of protest and revolution. Which is interesting, given recent world events. But don't worry! It's a comedy. I swear. Just...a dark one. With bombs and such.
I'll have an outline ready in the next day or so and post it. Should be interesting.
That's my story. And I'm sticking to it.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Get The Lead Out
I don't listen to the radio anymore. It just sort of happened. Living in New York, which is, I think, the single worst radio market in the whole world, it's pretty easy to just assume that any time you turn it on, you're going to hear crap. (Unless, of course, you can get FMU or FUV.) I know, I know, you can get good stuff streaming on the internet or on Pandora or whatever. But that's not really the radio to me. I'm still old school. You listen to the radio on a radio, beamed to you from some tower with a line-of-sight path to where you are. If you're in a valley, you're S.O.L. In New York, that means you get to choose from pop, pop, talk, pop, dance-pop, hard rap, soft rap, easy listening, doo-wop or classic rock. Or at least you used to have that many choices, back in the day. Now, who the hell knows. I don't. I don't listen to the radio. But sometimes I miss it. And at 5 p.m. on a slow, draggy day that's just now turning sunny, what I miss is Getting the Led Out. In case you never listened to classic rock radio, it was a daily staple: at 5 p.m., any decent, self-respecting classic rock radio station would play a block of Led Zepplin tunes for all those now-middle-aged former burnouts and dirtbags, who'd traded their Camaros for minivans and were stuck in traffic on the commute home (and some still lingering dirtbags, polishing their Firebirds in their driveways). Also tuning in were suburban boys who wanted to be cool. In the 7th grade, Led Zepplin was cool. Listening to the radio was cool. Black t-shirts and Camaros were still cool. It was a ten-minute block of being cool and pretending that you were never going to be commuting, that you would always stop to rock out at 5 p.m., no matter what.
But here I am. Wrapping up a work day, and getting ready for my commute. And I could use some rocking out. I'm not so into Led Zepplin these days. But I am into this.
So...get out and enjoy a sunset after a few stormy days. Looking at the forecast, it might be our last for a while.
But here I am. Wrapping up a work day, and getting ready for my commute. And I could use some rocking out. I'm not so into Led Zepplin these days. But I am into this.
So...get out and enjoy a sunset after a few stormy days. Looking at the forecast, it might be our last for a while.
One Of Those Days...
...This is definitely one. The doldrums. Almost literally. Maybe it's the gray, rainy weather we've been living with. Maybe it's a still persistent hangover from my weekend's activities. Who knows? But I'd rather be curled up on my couch watching a Law & Order marathon than doing just about anything else right now. Even writing. So here I am. Looking for a spark of inspiration. Something to push away the low, grey clouds and let some sunlight in. What you got? What's keeping your fires lit?
Monday, June 15, 2009
Writing Anarchists: Diary #1
Page count: 0. Yes, 0.
I've never done this before. I've written plays in all sorts of manners, with all sorts of restrictions and complications, but this is really a first for me. See, I don't have a single page of dialogue or even a full outline or character description written and I'm supposed to have a first rehearsal/meet & greet this week. Oh, yes, I have a director and a full cast. An awesome cast, I must say. All of whom have signed on to something that doesn't technically exist. With performance dates in just about two months. Aw, yeah.
This is all a bit experimental for me. I'm trying out something I think of as open-source playwriting. I've been doing a lot of reading about the open-source movement lately, books like Remix by Lawrence Lessig and Wikinomics by Don Tapscott and Anthony Williams, and thinking about how that can apply to the field of playwriting. It's a tricky thing. Theatre is already deeply collaborative, in many ways, but it's also very territorial. We have a pretty rigid system for the creation of work. It can be quite stifling. My revolutionary spirit wants to overthrow that. Hence, trying to open the source.
So I'm heading into a room with an idea, an outline of a play, knowing that there are parts I can't work out in my head alone, characters I can't fill in, plot points that will need better explanations. I'm trusting that my collaborators can help me figure it out. And in the end, we'll have a play that we've all contributed to and can feel proud of. It should be fun. Plus it's about anarchists and suburbia and revolution. Which is all awesome. There's going to be a bomb in the play. More plays should have bombs. Because they are awesome.
But this part is just a bit terrifying. Right at the top of the rollercoaster. But it's that way when I have a script in hand, too. So it's all good.
I've never done this before. I've written plays in all sorts of manners, with all sorts of restrictions and complications, but this is really a first for me. See, I don't have a single page of dialogue or even a full outline or character description written and I'm supposed to have a first rehearsal/meet & greet this week. Oh, yes, I have a director and a full cast. An awesome cast, I must say. All of whom have signed on to something that doesn't technically exist. With performance dates in just about two months. Aw, yeah.
This is all a bit experimental for me. I'm trying out something I think of as open-source playwriting. I've been doing a lot of reading about the open-source movement lately, books like Remix by Lawrence Lessig and Wikinomics by Don Tapscott and Anthony Williams, and thinking about how that can apply to the field of playwriting. It's a tricky thing. Theatre is already deeply collaborative, in many ways, but it's also very territorial. We have a pretty rigid system for the creation of work. It can be quite stifling. My revolutionary spirit wants to overthrow that. Hence, trying to open the source.
So I'm heading into a room with an idea, an outline of a play, knowing that there are parts I can't work out in my head alone, characters I can't fill in, plot points that will need better explanations. I'm trusting that my collaborators can help me figure it out. And in the end, we'll have a play that we've all contributed to and can feel proud of. It should be fun. Plus it's about anarchists and suburbia and revolution. Which is all awesome. There's going to be a bomb in the play. More plays should have bombs. Because they are awesome.
But this part is just a bit terrifying. Right at the top of the rollercoaster. But it's that way when I have a script in hand, too. So it's all good.
Previously...
For anyone joining this program in progress, allow me to explain. Well, there's too much to explain, so let me sum up.
I write plays. Last fall, after a professional setback or two and some personal drama, I took a break and tried to weigh my options about what I wanted to actually do with my life. I also drank way too much. Eventually, it became clear that writing was what I needed to be doing. However. I was sick of everything I was doing and sick of the whole business. So I said, "Screw it. I'm just going to play and have fun." And write. As much as I possibly could. I decided to write five new plays this year. Crazy, I know. But there you have it. I've written two so far. Three more (at least) to go. First draft writing, just getting it all down and moving on. Oh, and having readings and workshops and such. Because that's how you complete it.
I started chronicling it on facebook, because I'm a modern man. See here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here. (If you're not my facebook friend and you want to read them, let me know. I'll friend you. I friend everyone. Apparently.)
I don't do this because I'm a neurotic, attention-starved artist who needs the adoration of strangers to feel whole (well, not just because I'm a neurotic, attention-starved artist). I actually do this for philosophical reasons, too. I think that art-making in this society has become something of a closed loop. It's a magical, mystery to those outside of the loop and a delicate, precious craft to those inside. And I don't think it should be either. Making plays is fun, messy, inherently crazy and foolish and it should be seen, from start to finish, by all and sundry. Everyone can contribute and enjoy and that's how it's supposed to be. I'm tinkering with some open-source playwriting ideas that I'll be expounding upon shortly. But, again, to sum up: I want my process to be transparent. And that's what you'll be getting here.
You might also get tales of nights of drinking, since I do like to party. Maybe the occasional story of romantic dismay and misadventure. I got plenty of those. And I like to read things like this, this, this and this, so, yeah, that might pop up. Maybe some of this, too. And probably more than you want to know about this. A little something for everybody. (What can I say, I like to link.)
Hope you'll enjoy the ride.
I write plays. Last fall, after a professional setback or two and some personal drama, I took a break and tried to weigh my options about what I wanted to actually do with my life. I also drank way too much. Eventually, it became clear that writing was what I needed to be doing. However. I was sick of everything I was doing and sick of the whole business. So I said, "Screw it. I'm just going to play and have fun." And write. As much as I possibly could. I decided to write five new plays this year. Crazy, I know. But there you have it. I've written two so far. Three more (at least) to go. First draft writing, just getting it all down and moving on. Oh, and having readings and workshops and such. Because that's how you complete it.
I started chronicling it on facebook, because I'm a modern man. See here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here. (If you're not my facebook friend and you want to read them, let me know. I'll friend you. I friend everyone. Apparently.)
I don't do this because I'm a neurotic, attention-starved artist who needs the adoration of strangers to feel whole (well, not just because I'm a neurotic, attention-starved artist). I actually do this for philosophical reasons, too. I think that art-making in this society has become something of a closed loop. It's a magical, mystery to those outside of the loop and a delicate, precious craft to those inside. And I don't think it should be either. Making plays is fun, messy, inherently crazy and foolish and it should be seen, from start to finish, by all and sundry. Everyone can contribute and enjoy and that's how it's supposed to be. I'm tinkering with some open-source playwriting ideas that I'll be expounding upon shortly. But, again, to sum up: I want my process to be transparent. And that's what you'll be getting here.
You might also get tales of nights of drinking, since I do like to party. Maybe the occasional story of romantic dismay and misadventure. I got plenty of those. And I like to read things like this, this, this and this, so, yeah, that might pop up. Maybe some of this, too. And probably more than you want to know about this. A little something for everybody. (What can I say, I like to link.)
Hope you'll enjoy the ride.
Friday, June 12, 2009
This is not a video blog
I swear it's not. I'm just super-lazy. Wicked super-lazy. Nonetheless, here is a video that I think is cool.
Hey, Pittsburgh Penguins...
Here's to hoping that tonight's game seven doesn't turn out like this...
It would have been so weird if it was the Black Hawks. Just weird.
It would have been so weird if it was the Black Hawks. Just weird.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
My Bliggity-Blog
I've been torturing my facebook friends with my ramblings and whatnot and I figured I'd torture more people. Complete strangers who google bizarre things. Come and get it, weirdos!
But mostly I'll be talking about playwriting and such matters. So I hope you like that kind of thing. If you're still reading, I guess you do. So hang on for the ride.
But mostly I'll be talking about playwriting and such matters. So I hope you like that kind of thing. If you're still reading, I guess you do. So hang on for the ride.
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