THANKS SHIA- NOW I'M GONNA MAKE AN EVEN BETTER TITLE

Well, I finally have something to be mad at Shia LeBeouf about. Not his weirdness or acting or whatever it is that so many people seem to have issues with him about. No. I am pissed because he has a new movie, some sort of autobiography, and it's title is "Honey Boy".

Why does that annoy me? Well, I'll tell you.

As most of you know, I am a writer. Kind of obvious, I suppose, since I am writing a blog. But then again, many folks write blogs who I wouldn't really call writers. But that's just me being snooty and a tangent. Apologies.

Back to the thing. I have been working on a script, a pilot for a really weird series about a rust belt town haunted by assholes. Originally I was going to call it "The Wastelands". And while that is a great title, and also a fine poem by T.S. Eliot, it doesn't exactly scream "Watch me! I'm fun! I'm exciting! I am the perfect thing to pop on Netflix and spend hours on the couch absorbing while munching on pizza." So I went back into it, and hit upon "Honeyboy", which is the name of one of the central characters, is kind of unique, evocative, and all the things that can make for a good title.

And then I read online about this damn movie. (click HERE to read article)

Wasn't he retired or something? I thought he had some sort of breakdown and was living in the Himalayas. But no, the fucker has to go and get a movie together with my title.

Well, thanks a lot, Mister LeBeouf! Thank you very fucking much.

Actually, it's cool. I think this will just force me to come up with an even cooler title. One that grabs people and doesn't let go. Makes them think "Holy Shit! I must see this! Now! I'll order Hulu if I have to, just let me see it!"

And they should. It is a cool idea, a cool script, and one hundred percent me. Weird, funny, at times prescient.

In other news, there is a Kickstarter campaign going for a documentary about FringeNYC. The film is helmed by Francis Kuzler and Jeffifer Larkin, both super talented and awesome. I would not be where I am if not for the Fringe. Seriously. It is why I met my wife, how I got my start as a playwright, how I first got published. My plays Last Call, Muse of Fire, Some Unfortunate Hour, and April's Fool all had their first productions there. And now they are making a movie about it. Not my life, stupid. The New York International Fringe Festival.  For more info, go HERE.

Last but not least. I teach playwriting here in Denver at the DCPA. Summer class is Thursday nights. If you have ever wanted to write a play, have a play you want to work on, or are a full flung playwright looking for a workshop, this class is for you. Go HERE for more info.

That's three HEREs in one posting.

Good things come in threes.

HELL OF A TOWN, HELL OF A MONTH

August, and for that matter July and June, has been what you might call hectic. Or crazy. Or glorious. Or some mix of all three. I sometimes feel like I am running through several dreams, or reality shows, or alternate timelines that have all converged in what I perceive to be me.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I teach theatre, I direct theatre for young people, and I write scripts for both the stage and screen. The money isn't fantastic- yet- but I can't imagine pursuing anything else in this life. That's one of the things people tell you in the performing arts business- if you can picture yourself doing anything else for a living- do it. Which always seemed bizarre to me. How could anyone picture doing something else? I eat, drink, sleep, breathe, dream stories. It's my drug of choice, and I will not give it up. I don't think I could, really. I've quite smoking and drinking- both cold turkey. But no way in Hell can I, or will I, ever give up the wicked stage.
Not gonna happen.


Anyway- where was I? Ah, yes- semi-complaining about my busy summer. Poor me. I got to direct stage versions of Harriet the Spy, The Phantom Tollbooth, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Alice in Wonderland, the 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, and Annie this summer. I also got to have my latest play, April's Fool, open at the New York International Fringe Festival.

That's what I wanted to talk about- New York. What a town. It always feels to me like you enter another dimension, with its own laws of physics and time and such, whenever you land at LaGuardia or JFK or, God forbid, Newark. And no matter how long you've been away, once you step into Gotham, not a moment has passed, you slip back into your New Yorker identity, and it all makes sense and feels right. At least, that's how it is with me. We took a red eye flight, arriving at LGA around 9 in the morning, jumped in a cab, and headed to the upper east side, to my old apartment where my sister currently lives with her two boys. Drop off the luggage, get Lisa a set of keys so she can go to Central Park, and my sister Heather (who is playing Norn in April's Fool) and I catch the 6 train down to Bleeker for the final rehearsal before opening. The space is classic New York space- run by a minor lunatic who shows up late with the keys. The show runs smooth enough for a Fringe show- which means minimum rehearsal time, crazy schedules that make it impossible to get everyone in the cast together that much due to the fact that in a Fringe show you don't really pay anyone anything. But still, there was my show- my baby, my child full of quotes, madness, plaintive longing and more than a bit of magic. I dig it. There are some changes to be made in the script before it gets done again- little cuts and clarifications- but the soul is there. It is a strange thing to see mostly complete strangers perform something you wrote. And I imagine they found it strange to have the writer of something they'd been rehearsing for a month sitting in the front row of the rehearsal room. I prefer to be at rehearsals when a show is new- that's usually where the best things happen- the moments found out of frustration with moments that don't work, the bits discovered by the actors that inform the characters. Sadly, I was unable to do that with this production. This happens when you live in a different state. Still, I feel good about the show, and head back uptown to get some sleep.
The next day, it's down town- first to brunch in the Village with my wife, her son, and his girlfriend- but eventually I have to excuse myself and head towards the theatre. A playwright on opening night of a show is now fun to be around. I head to Fringe Central, see old friends, pass out some post cards for the show, and make my way to the Connelly Theatre on East 4th.
Finally, it's show time- and all these wonderful people I haven't seen in ages arrive- friends not only from NY, but from California- from when I was a student at San Jose
State University, and even one friend from Blackford High. Very wonderful.
I watch the show from above, in the unused balcony section of the theatre. It goes well. People applaud.

After the show, we all head out to gab, catch up, and discuss the show. I don't have enough time to see all my friends. I bounce from table to table, catching snippets of conversations- then am pulled somewhere else.
That is the one drag of going back to somewhere you once lived. There is never enough time to see everyone. I suppose that is one of the main drags of life in general.
Sunday I go to a Fringe U event where Martin Denton leads a great discussion on the role of theatrical criticism in this age of bloggers and DIY websites. Later, I finally get to meet the children of one of my great friends, Vinnie and Shannon. They are amazing and cute and funny, and Lisa and I stay way too late, laughing and catching up and soaking up as much time as we can.
On Monday, the first review comes out, by Martin Denton on nytheaternow. It's really nice. You can read it HERE.
I blink my eyes twice, and it's time to go home, to tech rehearsal for Spelling Bee and casting for Anything Goes- the first show of many I'm working on this fall.
And here I am. Summer is beginning to lose her fight, the show goes on, and today I am told we had a great performance out in NYC. We have two shows left, by the way- if you are in NYC, you can get your tix HERE.
I dig it.

APRIL'S PRESS RELEASE

So, tickets are now on sale for April's Fool, and we are in full promotion mode. That means many emails, Facebook invites, text messages, tweets, and whatever else it takes to fill those seats, and to get the members of the press to show up- because, love them or not, a good review can make all the difference for a show- especially if you don't have thousands of dollars to spend on publicity. We've gotten some responses, and a little traction already- in fact, the first article about the show came out last week on Broadwayworld.com, and the hope is that this is a harbinger of things to come. You can click HERE to see that article. I also did an interview for Indie Theater Now about the process of writing the show- you can see that HERE. And soon, also on Indie Theater Now, you will be able to read our director Bronwen Carson's thoughts on the play.

And if you are planning on coming, I will be at the opening performance- August 9 at 4:15 at the Connelly Theatre. Get you tickets now by clicking HERE.

So, there you are. And below you can see our official press release.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
NEW YORK HAMLET PRODUCTIONS
341 East 65th St Suite 3RE
New York, NY 100065
Phone: 646-319-6445 E-mail:cnobbs99@gmail.com

NEW YORK HAMLET PRODUCTIONS
PRESENTS
APRIL`S FOOL
NYC Fringe Festival 2014
New York Hamlet Productions is proud to announce the world premiere of April’s Fool, a new
play by Kelly McAllister, directed by Bronwen Carson. Performances will take place at The
Connelly Theater, 220 East 4th St on:

SAT 8/9 4:15 - 6:15, SUN 8/17 6:30 - 8:30, WED 8/20 2:00 - 4:00,
FRI 8/22 9:30 - 11:30 and SUN 8/24 NOON - 2:00

At a costume party on April Fool’s Day in the East Village of Manhattan, Fate arrives in the guise
of a Norn (Norse Goddess of Fate) and, over 24 hours, toys with the lives of four young New
Yorkers as they struggle with love, life and entanglement. As time and space shift, we follow
these characters through a varied Manhattan landscape that includes an East Village
apartment, a hipster bar and Central Park. Lies are told, confidences shattered and the fabric of
reality itself is questioned.

The cast features Liz Conway, Ian Campbell Dunn (The Leftovers/HBO), Heather McAllister,
Casey Shane and Sarah Wharton.

Kelly McAllister, a three time veteran of FringeNYC, is an award winning playwright whose
work has been published and produced all over the world, from NYC to Prague to Sao Paulo.
His play Last Call won the Excellence in Playwriting award in FringeNYC 2002. Other plays
include: Burning the Old Man (NYIT 2005 Outstanding Full Length Play) and Hela and Troy
(Finalist Humana Festival Heideman award 2010). His plays have been published by Applause
Books, Playscripts Inc., Smith & Kraus and NYTE.

Bronwen Carson is an accomplished director/choreographer based in NYC. Credits
include: Viva America (Broadway Workshop), The Cherry Orchard (Off-Broadway), In The Key of
Cy (Off-Broadway), Myopia (Neighborhood Playhouse) and Dim Sum(Neighborhood Playhouse).

Producer Craig Nobbs was recently Associate Producer on SAM, a feature film co-written and
directed by Nicholas Brooks and Producer on the film The Cat’s Cradle, written by Tawny
Sorensen and directed by David Spaltro. He is an award winning playwright and screenwriter
and a graduate of NYU Tisch School of the Arts’ Dramatic Writing Program.

Website: www.aprilsfoolplay.com/
Facebook: www.facebook.com/aprilsfoolplay
Twitter: @AprilsFoolplay
FringeNYC: www.FringeNYC.org

GET CAPE. WEAR CAPE. DANCE

Sometimes, you get to see a little magic in this life. Not all that often- but I suppose that's what makes it all the more wondrous when it occurs. I've been directing a week long theatre camp this past week, which will culminate in a performance of an hour long stage version of Harriet the Spy. The age group is kids going into third grade to kids going out of sixth grade. So there can be moments that are a little trying- like when one of the younger kids went on a half hour long crying jag after losing at a game called Mafia- a charming game of imagination involving murder, trial, and execution. But now and then, when I am teaching the younger artists of this world, something happens that makes it all worthwhile- makes me so happy to be alive in a world that has human beings in it. I got two such moments on Friday.

First moment. We were rehearsing a scene where Ole Golly is saying goodbye to Harriet. Old Golly is Harriet's nanny/friend/adviser/teacher. She lives with Harriet's family, and she loves Harriet and Harriet loves her, and it's one of those goodbye's in life that mark a turning point. We have the kid playing Harriet carrying these binoculars, because Harriet is a spy. Go figure. Anyway, in the scene, Ole Golly and Harriet recite their favorite poem together, then hug, then Ole Golly walks out of front door and out of Harriet's life. As Ole Golly walks away, we play a little music, Harriet watches her go, then turns and goes to her room and writes in her journal. But on Friday, out of the blue, as Ole Golly walks away, the girl playing Harriet watched Ole Golly go, then held up her binoculars and watched for longer- as if Harriet wanted to hold onto her time with Ole Golly as long as possible, and watch her walk down the street and into the distance. It was a little thing- a choice the actor made that was spontaneous and appropriate. But it touched me. Made me think, wow- that kid knows a thing or too about acting in the moment.



Second moment. As the day wore on- and it wore on! Tech rehearsals with young actors can be, are usually are, long and tedious. But at the end of this long day, we were practicing the scene shift into the final scene of the show. The shift takes almost a minute, and while it's happening, we have the stage in blue light and play this song, "Once More with Feeling", by a group called Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly. The lights went blue, the song began- and the entire cast, with hive-mind like precision- all ran up onto the stage and starting dancing around, silently, to the music while the stage hands moved scenery. They looked like elves or something, half shadows flitting in and out of the deep blue. Their joy at being on the stage, dancing in the dark, was like a wave of joy that you could feel roll through the theatre.

We perform the show at 6pm tonight.

On other notes- my upcoming show APRIL'S FOOL, which is having it's world premiere at the New York International Fringe Festival this August. Being starving artists, we are raising funds for this show via Indiegogo- if you have a minute to spare, please to HERE and then follow, share, and/or contribute to the cause.

Or click here: http://igg.me/at/AprilsFool/x/3385268

And I wish you all some magic.

FATE, IT SEEMS, HAS A SENSE OF HUMOR

That's the tag line for April's Fool. And I dig it. I've been writing this play for a little over a year, and I am in love with it. I am in love with all my plays, of course. When you write a play, it becomes one of your children- and you love it unconditionally. Whenever people ask me which play is my favorite, I truly can't say. I love them all.


April's Fool is set to have it's world premiere this August at the New York International Fringe Festival, and I am soooooo excited. The Fringe is where my first play, Last Call, premiered. It's where I became addicted to writing. It's my birthplace as a playwright- and something about this whole experience feels so right it's more than a little freaky-deaky. First off, the director- Bronwen Carson- gets me and this play like she's psychic or something. Second, the show is being produced by my great friend Craig Nobbs- who is just such an inspiration to me with his attitude and work ethic and general awesomeness. Third, we are performing in the Connelly Theatre, where I had one of the best theatrical experiences of my life playing Boxer in a puppet version of Animal Farm. Fourth, we just cast this sucker, and the cast is mind blowingly perfect. Fifth, the Fringe is good mojo. And beyond all that, my gut is telling me that this is going to be special.

Sometimes, when working on a play, you get this feeling in your gut that something magic is in the air. I remember when I was writing Last Call I had this feeling. I was in my apartment in Williamsburg, talking with good friend Jack Halpin about the show- and we both noted that there was something in the air, some sort of electric charge about the show. Something was happening that was going to change our lives, and somehow we knew it.

I feel that way about April's Fool.

And I just hashed out the ending- or new ending, as there have been several incarnations- and it feels right. Like something clicked and now I get it and there's the ending I've been wanting/needing/striving for- and now it all makes sense. It's weird, and exhilarating, and a little magnificent.

So get on board with me. Join the team. Enlist in April's Army, as a Fool, Magician, Lover, or Star. We are setting the course for points unknown- but we have a cosmic playlist, plenty of snacks, and an open road. For more info, click HERE.

And on another groovy note, my play RIDDLE LOST has just been published on Indie Theater Now. If you want to check it out, click HERE.

Onwards, and May the Fates Be with You.

APRIL IN AUGUST AT FRINGENYC

April's Fool is in! Repeat: April's Fool is in! I am Fringe-ing it this summer. That's right- I am going to be a participant in the 2014 New York International Fringe Festival with my latest play, April's Fool. I am excited, a little scared, and very happy.

April's Fool, my metaphysical comedy that was first developed by the theater at the Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center- Scott Levy, artistic director- and recently given a reading as part of the Playwrights Festival at The Western Stage of Salinas- Jon Selover, artistic directcor- will be given it's first full production in August, marking my first full length play to be performed in NYC in almost 8 years.

I want each of you to come see it. I don't want any excuses. I want your butts in seats. That sounds a little kinky, and I don't care. Just be there- it's this August, in NYC- the best time of year to be in Gotham.  And if you haven't already- visit our Facebook page and "like" it. Pretty please. Just click HERE and then, once on April's page, click like. Ten seconds of your time.

If you like my plays at all, April's Fool is for you- it's got a bunch of hyper intelligent people acting like morons. It's got cultural references galore. It's got death, sex, loneliness, and angst. And it's funny.

The casting is in progress- if you are in NYC and have always wanted to audition for a brand new play by Kelly McAllister, this is your lucky day.

Not only is it written by me, it's being directed by Bronwen Carson- who is so talented, funny, and insane in the best sense of the word that I can't really do her justice with my feeble attempts at describing her. Just trust me when I say she is a director who kicks it in the ass.

But wait, there's more. The show is being produced by Craig Nobbs- rising screenwriter, film director, and genius. And one of my dearest friends and collaborators.

So, why else should you go see this show? Well, if you've ever wondered about reality- like if maybe this is all some sort of weird dream, or maybe you are in the wrong alternate reality and should be in the one where you have the job of your dreams and made all the right decisions- if you've ever, even for just one moment, pondered if there is such a thing as fate or destiny controlling all or at least some of your life- if you think maybe you stepped through the looking glass long ago and have been wandering Wonderland most of your days and nights- this is the play for you. It won't answer all the questions- but it will give you a little bit of solace on those occasions you think we're all mad here.


The New York International Fringe Festival is the largest performing arts festival in North America, and takes place in August. I have had the great honor of being involved in four productions at FringeNYC- Last Call; Muse of Fire; Die, Die, Diana; and Some Unfortunate Hour. To be in the Fringe is amazing- and to experience it as a theatre goer is something that should be on everyone's bucket list.

So see you in August. More details- like theatre space and show dates and times- TBA.
If you want to buy a digital copy of the script- you can do that, right now, and for less than two dollars, by clicking HERE- that will take you to Indie Theater Now- the best web site in the multiverse.

ALWAYS BE WRITING

ALWAYS BE WRITING.
A- Always
B- Be
W- Writing



It's as simple as that. I think the only advice I've been given over the years- and I've been given it in almost the exact wording from many people, including Taft Miller and Tom Wolfe- is "keep writing".
Amen, namaste, yippee-ay-yo, and all that. I don't know why, exactly, but writing is necessary for my soul. Feeds it. Fuels it. Makes it feel good.

Maybe it's just my ego, and my need to say "look at me and what I think!"

Maybe it's destiny.

I don't really care.

All I know is that when I write, I feel better about myself and the world. Not that both I and the world don't need work, help, and fixing. We do. But somehow, I feel much more hopeful about fixing what needs to get fixed, connecting to what needs to be connected to, when I write.

Like right now. As I sit here, writing this, I feel like I am doing what I am meant to be doing.

Yes, that could just be me assigning meaning where there is none, magic thinking, and blah blah blah. If that is the case, so be it. I still feel a sense of well being from the act, and that in and of itself is reason enough to continue.

My father loved to write, but he always had to self-deprecate and call it "scribbling". I think maybe he felt guilty about the pleasure writing gave him. I don't know, and can't ask him now since he has gone to the great Elsewhere, but that's my sense.

Anyway.

I am working on several writing projects at the moment. And submitting like mad. A big part of a writer's life is submitting your work to strangers and then waiting for either a form letter of rejection, or a phone call saying "wow". Most of the time you get the former.

What am I working on, you ask? Well, there's April's Fool- which has been submitted to many places, most recently FringeNYC. And there's also Ghostlight, a screenplay that I wrote a while back and had my film students read out loud- and based on their very positive reaction I've decided to jump back into the waters, and tweak it a bit, and also film the first scene and then see what happens. And I am very very very very very close to finally finishing my short film Strong Tea, which has been in post-production for almost as long as the US has been in Afghanistan.

I hope to have more writing to share with you soon. I you can't wait for my new stuff, go buy one of my plays- either at IndieTheatreNow, or Playscripts.  Until then, here is a tiny segement from Ghostlight. Enjoy.

INT. BLACKFORD HIGH SCHOOL THEATRE - NIGHT

The theatre is empty, the only light a lamp in the middle of the stage. FOOTSTEPS AND WHISPERED VOICES approach. A KEY TURNS IN A LOCK. A DOOR CREAKS open. Behind it, a group of high school kids, ready to party. MILTON, a brainiac freshman, nervously points a FLAHSLIGHT into the theatre. RAY, the school rebel, pushes past Milton into the theatre, twelve pack of BEER in his hand. 

RAY

Lock and load!

He tosses a beer to NOEL, the class clown.

NOEL

My ninja!

TRINA, a pretty red head, laughs. The group walks in.  Ray tosses a beer to MAGGIE, Milton’s smart and sexy older sister.

MILTON

(shocked) Maggie!

MAGGIE

What?  

Noel grabs Milton’s flashlight, shines it on himself, and starts making faces. GROANS, LAUGHTER, “Loser!” ETC.

NOEL

I am the ghost of Bloody Bones!

He HOWLS. Two girls, MARNA and CECILY, giggle.  

  

MILTON

It’s not funny!

NOEL

I am the ghost of Bloody Bones, and I am walking into the theatre!

Noel FREEZES IN TERROR,  points over Rays shoulder.

NOEL (CONT’D)

Ray- look out!

Marna and Cecily SCREAM. Trina LAUGHS. Ray doesn't flinch.

RAY

Hilarious.

Unseen in the audience, LENNY- the school janitor who has been sleeping behind some chairs- sits up. 

LENNY

Morons.

Lenny takes the last swig from a bottle of whiskey, lays back down, and immediately passes out.

MILTON

Actually, Bloody Bones is an old Scottish legend. He was skinned alive, and roams the highlands seeking new skin.

Everyone stares at Milton. MAGGIE hangs her head, embarrassed. DANA, sophomore drama geek, looks scared.   

DANA

N-N- New skin?

MILTON

You could tell his victims from the lack thereof.

DANA

Lack there of?

MILTON

He'd peel them like grapes, and leave the carcass for the birds.

DANA

(shudders) That’s disgusting.

MILTON

Indeed.

NOEL

Sweet!

Milton notices everyone is listening, smiles sheepishly.

RAY

Nobody’s interested in a lecture on Captain Bloody Butt-

MILTON

Bones.

RAY

What?

MILTON

His name- it’s Bloody Bones.  

RAY

Whatever- we’re here to party- not to talk about Bloody Butt.

Milton turns to Maggie, confused.

MILTON

Maggie you said we were all here to practice our monologues for the upcoming auditions.

Maggie glares at Ray.

MAGGIE

Milton, why don't you get some candles?

MILTON

Sure.

Milton sullenly runs towards the prop room.

NOEL

Lack thereof.

Marna giggles. Noel smiles at her. Ray notices this.

RAY

What we need is some atmosphere.

Ray steps to lamp, reaches for the switch.

MILTON

Don’t turn off the ghostlight!

Ray stops, turns to Milton.

RAY

The what?

MILTON

A theatre in the dark is a dangerous place. 

Trina howls with laughter. Ray winks at Maggie.

RAY

Danger's my middle name, baby.

MILTON

Be that as it may, you don't turn the ghostlight off-

NOEL

Why’s it called the ghostlight?

MILTON

All theatres are haunted- full of shadows and ghosts and things that go bump in the night-

RAY

I got something that goes bump in the night.

Noel and several others shush Ray.

MILTON

There are rules in the theatre. And you don’t break them. 

RAY

Rules?

MILTON

Never turn off the ghostlight. Never whistle backstage. 

MILTON (CONT’D)

(growing excited) This is sacred ground...can’t you feel it?

RAY

No.

MILTON

You’re clearly not a thespian.

RAY

Clearly.

MILTON

Every theatre has a ghostlight, to keep the spirits out.

Trina takes a step towards Milton, fascinated.

TRINA  

What do they want?

EMMY, a cute freshmen who likes Milton and is jealous that Trina is paying attention to him, steps forward.

EMMY

Yeah, what do they want, Milton?

MILTON

Oh, uh...some think it's the ghosts of actors, not ready for their final exit- a theatre to a ghost is like fire to a moth- it draws them in.

Trina looks Milton in the eyes and smiles. Milton blushes, not sure what to do. 

RAY

Oh no!

Ray turns off the ghost light, plunging the theatre into DARKNESS.  Milton SCREAMS. Everyone LAUGHS.  

YOU'RE JUST FREAKED OUT FROM 9/11

My first play, Last Call, was sort of a 9/11 play. I guess. What really makes a play a 9/11 play? A story about the particular events of that day in regards to the terrorist attacks? A story about people's reactions? A story that takes place anywhere in this world after that day, since we are told over and over how the world changed forever that day? I don't know. I do know it was a weird day, and that the country went insane for awhile. On the advice of Jack Halpin, I took an unfinished play and finished it. I put people in it who were tired and scared and lost. I put in a bartender who took a crucifix and wrapped an American flag around it, so that it looked like Jesus was wearing the flag as a loincloth. And I set the play far, far away from NYC, in the town of Salinas- which might as well have been the other side of the world that day. People seemed to like the play when it got produced by hope theatre, inc. as part of the 2002 New York International Fringe Festival. It won an award, and then got published. Here's a little bit. If you like it, you can buy the whole thing at IndieTheaterNow.

VINCE

Oh, you’re just freaked out from 9-11.  Everything’s gonna be fine.  Relax.  This is a natural reaction.

DAVID

I’m not talking about 9-11.  Not exactly.  I mean, yeah, that freaked me out, and it sucked, and still sucks, but that wasn’t the deciding factor.

JERRY

What the fuck are you talking about?

DAVID

I’m talking about blood and guts and life and death.

JACK

I don’t understand.

DAVID

It’s a long story.

JACK

What is?

DAVID

What happened to me.

JACK

What happened to you?

DAVID

Well, I guess it all started the night I tried to kill myself.

JERRY

You tried to kill yourself?

DAVID

I was going to.

VINCE

So first you’re dying, and now you’re trying to kill yourself?

JACK

What the Hell are you talking about?

           DAVID

It was about three months after 9/11.  After everyone started acting like their normal, boring, creepy selves.

VINCE

Including you?

DAVID

Oh yeah.  Especially me.  Thousands of people dead.  A war on terrorism that just gets curiouser and curiouser.  Anthrax, some kid putting pipe bombs in mail boxes- things are totally fucked up. And there I am, buying this and selling that, closing deals like nothing ever happened.  Keep going on like before.  That’s what everyone said to do to fight the terrorists.  Keep going on like before.  Even if you’re an asshole, keep going on like before.  It’s all so fucked and weird.  You ever feel like nothing makes sense, that time and space are all warped and you’re just sort of floating through it, powerless?

JACK

All the time.

EAT A BAG OF WHAT?

So I had just finished directing Muse of Fire, my second full length play, for hope theatre, inc. as part of the 2003 New York International Fringe Festival, and feeling really good about all things theatre.   The play had gotten a rave review from Martin Denton, sold out most its performances, and everyone involved in the show had kicked ass.  On top of that, I had just gotten cast as Boxer the Horse in a puppet version of Animal Farm being produced by Synapse Productions and directed by David Travis- and it was a really shaping up to be a cool, cutting edge, brilliant show.  And on top of that awesomeness, Tim Errickson, old friend and the Artistic Director of Boomerang Theatre Company, asked me if I wanted to write a play for the Boomerangs.

I said yes before he had finished his sentence.

So, now I had to find a play.  At this point in my writing, I wanted to set all my plays in California.  I'm not sure if it was a sense of loyalty of where I came from, a severe belief in the dictum "write what you know", or just something that struck my fancy.  In any event, the new play would be set in California.  So I started thinking about the Golden State, and what would make a good play.   And I came across an article in the SF Gate, the online version of the old newspaper The Chronicle, about Burning Man.  It was a brief history of the festival- how it had started on a Baker Beach in San Francisco one summer solstice night in 1986, and had grown into this huge festival held every summer in the desert outside of Reno, Nevada that culminated with a bonfire where a huge figure would be burnt in effigy.  According to the article, people are supposed to bring things to the festival that want to be rid of- bad feelings, old wounds, etc.- and symbolically toss them in the fire and move on with their lives.

This sounded like a good thing to have in a play.  And Reno is very close to the California border- in fact, I spent a fair amount of time near there when I was a kid, as my Uncle Donald had a ranch near there.  So cool, Burning Man would be part of the story.  And I thought, what is someone was trying to get to Burning Man to toss some past wound into the fire, but got stuck on the way?  That would be a good obstacle for someone to try and overcome.  And while trying to get there, lots of juicy stuff could come out.

Now, my father had recently died- and it really sucked ass.  And I had been thinking a lot about how when people die, you are left with a lot of unresolved issues- unspoken grievances, unanswered questions, un-cried tears.  So I would have someone trying to get over a death.  No- why not have two people?  Brothers, who are opposite in almost every way, bound together by blood, constantly at each other's throats?  Yeah, that sounded good to me.  I often have two opposites stuck together in my plays- yins and yangs, order and chaos...and Bobby and Marty.  That would be their names- and they would sort of represent two aspects of me.  The slacker and the worrier.   Of course, once I started writing, they took a life of their own, and did what they wanted.  Which is how it usually goes with me- I'll come up with some idea for a story, and start writing, and all of a sudden the characters take on a life of their own, and do and say what they want, and I just write down whatever it is I see and hear then doing.  Which might make me a little crazy, but I think it was Zorba who said a man needs a little craziness in his life.

Now, I would be lying to say that there is not a lot of me in this show, a lot of my issues with death, and my father, as well as my mom and my step-dad.  I grew up in a rather dramatic household- a world of fathers who had left long ago, alcoholism, and denial.  And a lot of that is in Burning the Old Man.  But I'd also be lying if I said this is an autobiographical play.  It is a story, told by me, about people who are sort of crazy.

Anyhow.  I let all these ideas run around in my head for a day or two, and then sat down, and started writing...and it came out in a torrent.  I mean the whole thing.  I couldn't type fast enough.  I'd write until two or three in the morning, fall asleep, then wake up an hour later with a new bit of dialogue that demanded attention.  It was pretty freaky, and liberating, and exciting.

The play starts with Marty and Bobby on their way to Burning Man.   They are taking their late father's ashes, with the intent of throwing them on the fire at the end of the festival.  This is per their late father's dying wishes.  To up the stakes, I make it the day before the bonfire.  They're running late.  And then, their car explodes.  Well, first it catches fire, they pull into a run down motel in the middle of nowhere, and then it blows up.  And there's no cell phone reception.  And the explosion has taken down the phone line.  And the only person at the motel is Jo, a sort of Stepford Wife wannabe who has no car and whose husband works far away and won't be home until very late.   And figuring all that out took about as long as it did to type this paragraph.

It just poured out, pre-formed and beautiful.  I named the motel The Delphi, after the famous oracle of Greek mythology who people went to for wisdom and guidance.  In the opening scene, Jo is at the counter in the lobby, singing show tunes to herself, when Bobby runs in, screaming at his brother "Eat a bag of dicks, fuckhole!", a phrase I had once heard Brett Christensen say.  In my mind, Brett was Bobby, and indeed ended up playing him in the first production, so I figured what the hell?

I wrote the first draft in less than a month, and Boomerang did a reading of it as part of their First Flight series, directed by Tim Errickson.  The cast included Tim McCracken as Marty, Brett Christensen as Bobby, Siobhan Mahoney as Candy, Philip Emeott as Earth, Mac Brydon as Eddy, and Sara Thigpen as Jo.

And with that reading, we were off to the races.

To Be Continued...

Burning the Old Man is currently available in the anthology "Plays and Playwrights 2006", available here:
http://www.nytesmallpress.com/pp06.php

It also won the 2005 NYIT Award for Outstanding Full Length Script.   For more info, go here:
http://www.nyitawards.com/

It also went on to a long run at Divadlo na Zabradli of Prauge.  For more info, go here:
http://www.nazabradli.cz/repertoar/repertoar/kelly-mcallister-cesta-horiciho-muze/

And next month, it opens at another there in the Czech Republic, Divadlo Exil.  For more info, go here:
http://www.divadloexil.cz/?page_id=12

WHY NOT MAKE HIS HEAD EXPLODE?

SOME UNFORTUNATE HOUR, now available at INDIE THEATER NOW, and how it came to be.

I was stuck.  I had a big chunk of a new play written, and had hit a brick wall.  The opening was great, characters all clear in my mind, dialogue crisp and clean and all that jazz- but there was something wrong.  I couldn't quite find out what it was, or why whenever I sat down to write nothing really happened- I mean nothing.   I'd sit and stare at the screen and it all seemed weary, stale, flat and unprofitable.  Up to this point, my plays had come fast and furious, born fully formed like Venus on the shell- but not this one.

The play itself was a simple premise- one scene, written in the style known as "realism", following a guy named Tom's slow realization that he's an asshole.  It began as a whim, but now had a life of its' own- and there was no way in Hell I wasn't going to finish it.   So I did what any brave person would do.  

I ran away.

I was living in New York City, but my mom still lived in the house I grew up in out in San Jose, California.  I hadn't been home to visit for awhile, and so off I went, into the wild blue yonder.   I visited old friends, went to say hello to the Pacific, and hoped my subconscious would work things out as far as the play was concerned.  And then I got a phone call from a friend.  Thank God,

The friend was Harry Newman.  He's a fellow playwright, and was running The Pool at the time, and was one of those people whose opinion I trusted- and still trust to this day.  He had read the play, and had a  simple question- why does it have to stay in the land of realism?  Why not have his head explode, so to speak?

And like that, it all fell into place.  Yeah, why not have his head explode?  Why not have him slip back and forth between reality and his imagination?  I mean, Old Tom is drunk and getting drunker, and his mental state is not what you'd call stable- why not have his world be askew, ruled by unseen spirits, and all that good stuff?  

For me, there are times when I'm writing when all of a sudden, I see the piece as a whole- the world it inhabits, the characters, the color and sound and even the smell of it.  The Eureka moment, if you will.  I don't know why, but I do.  And usually, it happens after working on it for awhile.  I'll be plodding along from point A to point B to point C, with a rough idea of what's supposed to happen and who the hero is and all that, and then someone says something, or I hear a song on the radio, or I see a sunset, or a couple fighting in a store- and BLAMMO, the play is there, and from that point on I usually can't type fast enough.  

I dig that part of the process the most.  

So I dive back into the play.  Tom is still in the bar, but now and then, the lights change, a spotlight shines on him, and he goes into these strange soliloquies about She Who Shall Remain Nameless, or what the settlers meant when they said they "saw the Elephant", or how he's like a baseball that's been hit by Bugs Bunny and has traveled all over the world.  It fit- all of it.  Time to enter the show in the New York International Fringe Festival and hope it gets in.  And if it doesn't, put it up somewhere anyway.

Then I had one more idea.  What if I had a score written for the show, like how Simon and Garfunkel did the music for The Graduate?   I mean, Aristotle did list music as one of the basic elements of theatre, didn't he?  On top of that, I had a friend, Robbie Gil, who knew my work, liked this particular play, and writes really groovy music- in fact, if you don't know his stuff, you need to go to his web site, download some tunes, and get with the program.  I ask Robbie is he'd be OK with that, he says yes, and we are off to the races.  

I name the play "SOME UNFORTUNATE HOUR", which in my mind is a variation on the old Rogers and Hammerstein song "Some Enchanted Evening", but no one ever picks up on that but me.  It gets accepted into the Fringe.  I finish the play- which includes a really great monologue by Janus about unrequited love that, if you are an actress looking for a good audition piece, I highly recommend.  I get Tim Errickson, Artistic Director of the Boomerang Theatre Company, to direct- cast Dan O'Neill as Tom, Jodi Dick as Janus, and Ashley Wren Collins as Charity, and off we go.  The show is received well- go here for a review- and then gets a run in Denver - go here for really nice review from Variety.  And now, as part of the Fringe Collection offered on Indie Theatre Now, it's available online for less than $2.  Life is sweet.

Anyhow, that's the very basic story of Some Unfortunate Hour.  Stay tuned for more on me and my shows- up next, my biggest hit yet, BURNING THE OLD MAN.

AT SOME UNFORTUNATE HOUR...

Continuing my series about where my plays come from- here's the story of SOME UNFORTUNATE HOUR, a happy little piece about a guy losing his mind.

I had just gotten through the premiere performance of Burning the Old Man, which was produced by Boomerang Theatre Co., directed by Tim Errickson.  It was a big hit, won the first ever NYIT Award for Outstanding Full Length Script, and got published- first in full by NYTE as part of their Plays and Playwrights Series.  Then it went on to be featured in scene books and anthologies from Applause Books and Smith and Kraus.  And then, to make me feel like Superman, the show gets a 3 year run in Prague at the fabled Divaldlo na Zabradli.  In the Fall of 2004, I didn't know all that was going to happen- just that I had a really good play on my hands, and it was going places.  What to do now?

I thought it would be cool to write as long a scene as possible that would hold people's interest and be viable as a piece of theatre.  It was one of those "this would be a fun experiment" type of notions.  Now all I needed was something to write about- and fate, as usual, provided material.  First, I got a call from an old friend telling me he was getting divorced.  We had many conversations in the following months about divorce, love, life- you know, all the things friends talk about when going through some serious issues.  Second, shortly after hearing about my buddy's divorce, I was at a party, eavesdropping- a habit lots of writers do without even realizing they're doing it.  I was listening to these two young ladies sizing up the party, and in particular the young men at the party.  One girl said "that guy thinks he's gonna end up with you tonight".  The other girl rolled her eyes, and in a very direct tone said "well, at some unfortunate hour, he's gonna realize that he's an asshole".  The girls laughed and changed the subject, but I was struck by the idea that a person would have this hour in their life where they suddenly realize some ugly truths about themselves.  

And the wheels in the playwright section of my brain started to turn.

How about a play set in a bar where a guy who has just gotten divorced has his unfortunate hour, the one where he realizes that maybe he's kind of responsible for what's been happening to him?  Yeah, and the dude is kind of crazy and charming and drunk.   Drunk and/or stoned characters are great to write in that they allow for lots of danger, emotion, and language that is all over the map.  So I start to write.  I test out some of it at The Pool, a writers group in NYC.  People respond positively.  I read some of it over to the phone to my recently divorced friend.  He digs it, a lot.  Things start to fall in place.  I name the guy in the bar Tom, after Poor Mad Tom O'Bedlam- a figure from old English literature who is referenced in King Lear.  At first, I have Tom just ranting to no one in particular- but as I go along, I decide to have him talking to a bar tender.  And then, I think to myself- what if the bar tender is a woman who has always carried a torch for old Tom?   Kind of adds dramatic tension.  I like this idea, and Janus, the smart ass and long suffering bar tender, is born.  I name her Janus after the Old Roman God of doorways and beginnings- because I'm nerdy like that.  

So things are cooking along with the show.  I got an opening monologue that I am pretty happy with- and everyone I read or recite it to by memory really seems to respond.   In that opening monologue, Tom goes on about how all he wants from a wife is some faith, hope, and charity- a reference to First Corinthians 13:13, which you've probably heard at numerous weddings, (and which I recall from my youth, when I wanted to become a minister- but that's a story for another day).  I figure, why not have a lady walk in who Tom instantly falls for- and tries to hook up with?  And, just for shits and giggles, why not have her name be Charity?  

Here's the opening monologue:

TOM

It comes down to two choices, when you get down to it.  You can either be Asshole Happy Clown, or Idiot Sad Clown.  Asshole Happy Clown is happy because he thinks people suck-that we're just a bunch of assholes.  And he is constantly proved right.  So he smiles, not so much because he's glad the world sucks, but because, asshole that he is, nothing makes him happier than being right.  Even if it's about something terrible.   Idiot Sad Clown is the optimist of the pair.  He thinks-no, believes-in the inherent goodness of people.  He holds out great hope for us all.   And he is continually heartbroken.   People do the stupidest shit imaginable, on a constant basis-both to themselves and to each other.  They lie to each other.  They take advantage of each other.  They don't tell you what's really going on inside, even if you ask them again and again.  “What's going on?” “Nothing, everything's fine.”  They leave you.  With little to no explanation.  They say things like, “This package was broke when you bought it,” whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean.   Who says shit like that?  Broke when you bought it?  Not only is that fucked up in its own right, it implies a belief that most of us packages aren't broken.  That most of us are just fine.  Which is crazy.   I promise you, there are no unbroken packages.  None of us are without a dent or two or twelve.   Broke when you bought it?  Jesus fucking Christ!  When I got married, what I had hoped for-what I prayed for, in my lapsed Irish Catholic way (takes a shot of whiskey from the bar, steps downstage and looks up.  He crosses himself with the shot)-the three things I was looking for in my wife were, in no particular order: Faith, Hope, and/ or Charity. (downs the shot)  What did I get?  The complaint department at Sears!  I got the fucking Maytag Repairman!  Looking for a wife, I got some old turd telling me that he has the loneliest job on the face of the Earth.  Which is bullshit.  The loneliest job on the face of the Earth was, until this afternoon, according to a certain paper I signed down at the courthouse, held by me.  Oh  my dear God.  I'm the Maytag Repairman!  Ah, Jesus, I don't want to fix washing machines.  I want-No,  I hope-to one day be called upon to repair some lost soul.  Of course, I don't know how to do that, so part of me is happy that the phone never rings down in the soul department at Sears-(Tom's cell phone rings.  He takes it out, looks at the number, pushes cancel, puts phone back in his pocket)-but still, I'd like to give it a try.  Just once.  And for real, not for make-up.  Did you know that most of life is a game of make-up?  It is.  We make up these characters, these people who we'd like to be-and we spend our lives playing our ideas of ourselves.  And that seems crazy to me.  Faith, Hope, and Charity.  The three Weird Sisters.  The Three Amigos.  That's all.

Not terrible, right?  I have a new, three character play in the form of one scene that's almost half an hour long, and full of what I think is brilliance.  And then I get stuck.   Like nothing is coming, the play will never be done, and I hate it all kind of stuck.  

Sometimes, writing is sublime.  Sometimes, not so much.  I've got to figure out a way to get back on course.  The magic, along with Elvis, has left the building, and suddenly I am wandering in the desert.  I take a trip home to California to visit Mom, and hope something will come- some new door will open that will let me finish this play.

To Be Continued...

Links:

To see how to get a digital version of SOME UNFORTUNATE HOUR, go here:

http://www.indietheaternow.com/Play/PlayDetail/30

To see how to order a copy of Plays and Playwrights 2006, featuring Burning the Old Man, 

go here:  http://www.nytesmallpress.com/pp06.php

For info on INDIE THEATER NOW, the new digital theatre library, go here:

http://www.indietheaternow.com/

For info on Boomerang Theatre Company, go here:

http://boomerangtheatre.org/boom/index2.php