WHY NOT ALL THREE?

So I'm furiously writing my latest opus- a play with the working title "Don't Get Too Comfy Pal". The title will most likely change soon, but that will be the subject of a future blog. The play is a bit of poetic realism following four twenty-to-thirty-something New Yorkers dealing with unrequited love, betrayal, and attempted murder with a pinball machine. I've got the characters down- meaning I can hear what they sound like in my head and as such when I write a scene they just come in and do what they would do, react the way they would react, and still manage to surprise me with who they are. I've got a basic premise, or gimmick, where reality shifts at the end of every scene. And I am liking it all quite a bit. But then I get to that thing called the ending, the resolution of the crisis, the way things turn out for the characters, and I pause. There are at least three possible ways this story can finish: the sad ending with death and sorrow; the bittersweet ending with no death but lots of isolation and everyone realizing rather unpleasant things about either themselves or the world; or the happy ending where those who deserve a break in this vicious world actually get one. I can see the merits in all three. What to do?

I ponder. I ponder some more. I talk with the few people I trust to read what I've already written. My sister Heather leans towards the happy ending. My friend Jack is opening a production of Little Shop of Horrors and hasn't gotten to read it all yet. Then I call my older brother Jerry, and he says "why not all three?"

And it's like a light goes off, the way is clear, the problem solved. Why not all three? I've already got reality shifting left and right in every scene. One of the main characters is Norn- the three gods of fate in Norse mythology embodied in one person who can do pretty much whatever she wants with time and space, so why not have three alternate realities? The Norns in most versions of Norse mythology are three women- Urd, Verdandi, and Skuld. Urd spins the thread of your life, Verdandi measures it, and Skuld cuts it. They're very similar to the fates of Greek myth. And the thread of life makes me thing of string theory, and alternate universes, and all those crazy ideas that seem to be accepted by science if what I watch on shows like Through the Wormhole with Morgan Freeman are telling the truth.

And it all just fits. The first draft gets written, and entered in the Rough Writers contest at the Fine Arts Center in Colorado Springs. I send copies to more friends- including Martin Denton,  the man behind nytheatre.com and Indie Theater Now. Martin is one of modern theatre's true champions and someone I consider myself very lucky to be able to call my friend.  And the feedback is very positive.

Now I am getting ready to dive back in for the second draft. There are scenes to clean up, and other scenes that haven't even materialized yet. But I'm not worried. The base is there, the foundation. And I've already found something interesting that has sparked my interest. Apparently, in some versions of the myths about the Norns, they write your fate in rune stones, which they hammer into this shield. I have this image of Norn working in her garage, hammering some runes into a shield, while talking with Sabrina about life, the universe, and everything. And then there's Gladde, Larfor, Jaypes, and Pranxtor- who may or may not show up.

We shall see where it goes next.

ROUGH WRITING

I'm pretty much writing all the time. Most of it is in my head, because I have to do things like go to work, eat, sleep, clean the house, walk the dog, and do all those little things that comprise a life. But still I write. Stories whirl around in my head like ghosts trapped in a glass jar. Some are full apparitions, some are mere shadows whose shape is unclear. But regardless of size and definition, they live and breathe and demand attention- some moaning and groaning, some singing and dancing. And if I am not able to write them down, they get angry and usually louder. I often think that if I don't exorcise them via a story or script, they become a poison in my system.

What can I say? I might be a little weird, but isn't eveyone?

So, one of the ghosts that has gotten my attention and has made it to the page is a new play with the working title "Don't Get Too Comfy, Pal." It sprang out of a painting, a charcoal sketch by Liz Maugans called "Don't Get Too Comfy, Pal." (As I write this, I am debating in my mind changing the title.  I don't know why, exactly, but after writing down that the title of the painting and the title of the play are the same, it struck me that I need to change the title). I found the art work via a writing contest being held by the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center Theatre called Rough Writers. I have always liked the work that company does, and ever since I saw an excellent production of Leslie Bramm's one act Lovers Leapt directed by Scott RC Levy at there last year, I have wanted something of mine to be produced by this exciting company. And along comes this handy contest.

The guidelines were pretty simple- base a play of any length on one of three art works, and send it in by St. Valentine's Day. Here's the one that first sparked my imagination:


To me, it said lonely New York apartment, with something dark and strange looming in the air. It felt kind of haunted and dangerous and I just wanted to write about it. Suddenly I saw this guy called Ahab breaking into that very apartment. Not breaking in to steal something- breaking in to set something right that in his mind was wrong. Then I thought of this really horrible I had once been unfortunate enough to witness, which involved a fake marriage proposal. And the whole thing just started coming together. I saw lonely, funny, interesting people all trying to get different things, thrown together by circumstance. And I wanted, no doubt because of the paintings title, to have reality keep shifting on people- kind of like how most episodes of The Twilight Zone end, with a strange twist. Or like the ending of the first movie version of Planet of the Apes ( co-written by Rod Serling, the main creative force behind the twilight zone), where Charlton Heston, upon seeing the ruins of what was the Statue of Liberty, comes to the realization that he's been on Earth all along. You know, the part where he kneels on the sand and screams in that way that only Heston could "Damn you! Damn you all to Hell!"

So I had lonely NYC apartment, Ahab and his cohorts, and the idea that reality will shift alot- mostly at the end of each scene. Now I needed something else- some kind of supernatural character to tie it all together. And I took to the internets. I am lucky in that I have a lot of creative friends of Facebook- so I took an impromptu poll, asking what kind of supernatural being people would like to see in a play. After several excellent ideas, Bronwen Carson, a director/choreographer out of Brooklyn, suggested the Norns- who are the fates of Norse mythology. Now, I am a bit of a nut for Norse myths, and the instant I saw them, I knew they were what I wanted. But I decided to put all three Norns into one being, and have them answer to all three of their names at different moments. You know, the tired old triple-personality supernatural character we've seen so many times before. And like that, I saw all the characters of show. Ahab, a slacker actor/waiter who is in love with Moira, whose name means fate and who happens to have a stockbroker boyfriend named Kurt. Rounding out the cast is Sabrina, who is in love with Ahab and is named after a character on General Hospital (inspiration comes from anything and everything), and the Norn, who would appear both as herself, and also as whatever else is needed, which at this point includes a bar tender, a priest, and a cop.

Sound strange? Well, that's what goes on in my head, every freaking day. So, I start writing the first draft, and decided immediately that everyone has to be dressed like a clown or a jester or a fool of some type. And it makes total sense. And the play plops out of my head like Athena from the head of Zeus. It happens like that sometimes. A whole play materializes, as if from the void. Maybe it forms like a planet. A bunch of ideas slam into each other, form a larger idea, their gravity starts to attract more ideas, and presto- a new play is orbiting the sun of my soul. One of the later ideas to smash into this new planet was one of the other art works from the contest- a porcelain axe titled "Everyday Is Like Sunday" by TR Ericsson. It too had to be in the show. And not figuratively- I mean physically. So now it's there, and gets used, and ends up covered in blood. Now the first draft is done, and it's time to go back into that world, and see what new things will show up, what as yet undiscovered moments, objects, and actions. I don't know where this play will end up- I don't even know if it will be part of the Rough Writers readings. I hope it does, but won't find out for another month. I do know I like it. A lot.

Two more things I want to tell you today.

One, there is a production of my play Burning the Old Man opening March 16 in Sao Paolo, Brazil. It's been translated into Portuguese, and is called As Cinzas Do Velho. If you are in Brazil, go see it. From what I've gathered through many conversations with the cast and crew, it's going to be amazing.

Two. I met a really excellent artist last week. His name is Thomas Och, and his work is unique and beautiful. Go check his web site out by clicking here. Here is a piece of his I really like- it's a photo of a person and a painting, merged into one piece of art.

So that's it for now. Go on out and get your theatre on, get your art on, get your life on.

PRELUDES AND PRONOIA

Had one of those magic times this past week-end, where it seems like every step has been planned by benevolent forces who are guiding you to a destiny that is both mystical, fantastical, and contagiously positive. You know, the ones where every stranger you meet smiles, every conversation reveals something new and wondrous, and every moment seems to contain some secret message just for you that, whatever else it might say, has the over-riding message that all is well, and you are on the right path. You are where you are supposed to be. Rob Brezny, the only astrologist I read with regularity, calls this feeling Pronoia, the sense that "the universe is conspiring to shower you with blessings."

What prompted this intense feeling of well being? I think the first and most important step was the decision to take my wife Lisa on a short, one night get-away to Manitou Springs, a mountain town nestled in the Rocky Mountains just below Pikes Peak, for Valentine's Day. We'd talked about going there many times- and for some reason I thought let's go there now. The town is supposed to be full of charm, and also ghosts, which we both find interesting. On top of that, it's not very far from Colorado Springs, home to the best theatre company in the state, the theatre at the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center, which was presenting Craig Lucas' play "Prelude to a Kiss" that week-end.

On top of the excitement of a short trip and a night of theatre, I had just finished the first draft of a new play, working title: Don't Get Too Comfy, Pal. Working on a new play is a strange, exhilarating, lonely thing. Finishing that first draft is quite a high. To use another Brezny-ism, it's touching the Divine Wow.

We stayed at the Avenue Hotel, this bed and breakfast that is exactly what I've always pictured a bed and breakfast to be: beautiful old house full of warmth; really cool staff happy to chat about local spots, the weather, or whatever passes your fancy; and a look and feel unique unto itself. So many hotels look the same these days- as do so many stores and restaurants and homes. I find comfort in places that are one of a kind. places that have evolved over the years through repairs and additions into one of a kind structures. We checked in, then walked Manitou Avenue- the main drag of the town. The town is in a knife cut valley, and the views every way you look are unreal. We got coffee at this groovy place called Marika's. I had something called a Dirty Hippie and Lisa got a Green Tea Latte. They tasted out of this world. Ever notice how when you're on vacation things just taste better? I wonder if it's because you're relaxed, and as such your senses work better. After our initial walk, Lisa took a bath in our room's claw foot tub, we got dressed, had a really great meal at this funky organic place called blah blah that had the coolest art work on it's walls, then headed down to the theatre.

Prelude to a Kiss is a really fantastic show, a sort of romantic comedy mixed with sci-fi that some would call magic realism but I just call good writing. It lures you in with comedy, keeps you leaning in with a very unique and compelling dilemma for it's main characters, and then dazzles with some serious discussion on love, life, aging, and asking the ever more pertinent question "who wants to live forever". This production was strong- directed by Garrett Ayers, who kept the action moving, with excellent performances from Kyle Dean Steffen as Peter, Cynthia Pohlson as Rita, a very funny Jane Fromme and David Hastings as Rita's parents Dr. and Mrs. Boyle- but the stand out performance in this show was Sol Chavez as Old Man, and also as Rita stuck in Old Man's body. His monologue in act two on what it is to grow old was beautiful.  Next up at the Fine Arts Center is Other Desert Cities by Jon Robin Baitz, directed by Scott RC Levy, the company's artistic director. I can't wait to see it- and hope you all come see it with me. If you haven't gone there yet- do. The facility is amazing- it's connected to an art museum, and there's an Art Deco bar and restaurant that are outstanding. The shows are consistently excellent and the choice of material brilliant. I have seen almost every show in the past two seasons, and they have all rocked the planet.

We slept well that night, and awoke refreshed and ready for whatever the day would bring us. After a fantastic breakfast, where we met this really cool couple, Lisa got a massage- the second part of my Valentine's gift, and then we tooled around the town some more, exploring this place called Miramount Castle, playing old pinball games in this awesome arcade, and then having the best buffalo burgers in town at the Keg.

So, what am I trying to say? Seek joy- it's out there, waiting for you. We really didn't spend much money- we just took a little time to enjoy this life, this amazing journey we're on that has plenty of monotony and not enough spontaneity.

And here is something funny by my old friend Mike Kubit.

AS CINZAS DO VELHO

Ashes of the Old. That's the title of my play Burning the Old Man, as translated into Portugeuese by Geraldo Carrara for the Brazilian premiere directed by Luis Artur Nunes, which will open in Sao Paolo in March. I'm very excited about this production- the people involved, whom I have yet to meet in person, are dedicated, interesting, talented artists. I have been writing back and forth with several of the key players, particularly Alexandre Cruz and Marcelo Braga de Carvalho, and the discussions we have had about the play have been exhilarating. It is something rare and wonderful to discuss a play you've written with people in another country who like it so much that they have translated it into their own language and are putting up a production of the play. It makes you really think about what you have written, and why it seems to connect with people. For some reason, Burning the Old Man seems to be the play I've written that has touched the most people. It's by far the best selling of my plays- which are available at both Indie Theater Now and Playscripts, inc., and has also been featured in several scene books and also in Acting is Believing- a book required is many acting classes. I don't know why it's so popular, I only know that it is so. And that's groovy.



I have a lot of writing going on at the moment. Things come in waves, I think. There are months where it seems like nothing is happening, and then there are months when everything is happening. Right now, I am working on a one hour musical in the style of Glee, re-writes for the June production of Rose Red; a new play based on a piece of art for the Rough Writers program at the Fine Arts Center in Colorado Springs; and also a weird paranormal comedy drama thing that involves two slackers, an old trunk, ghosts, and the song The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. On top of that, I am directing two high school plays: Moon Over Buffalo at the Denver JCC, and Our Town at The Watershed School. And on top of that, I have to find a film editor who works with Final Cut Pro X so that I can get my first short film, Strong Tea, done and out to festivals. Makes me feel like Bilbo, when he tells Gandalf he's like butter scraped over too much bread.

Lots to do, so of course I get this cold/flu virus thing that seems to be attacking the world like angry aliens from the planet Suck-It. Whatever this virus is, it is nasty. I have never felt so sick in my life. It makes me think that maybe the Mayans meant to say that the end of the world would start in December 2012, and slowly come about through a series of fevers, sniffles, and coughs.

But do I let that get me down? Hell no. Time to kick it in the ass.

So visit these sites, buy my plays, like the Facebook pages, and do whatever it is that makes you happy.

http://strongtea-themovie.com/
http://ascinzasdovelho.blogspot.com.br/
http://www.indietheaternow.com/Playwright/kelly-mcallister
http://www.playscripts.com/author.php3?authorid=1062