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.

IN THE NEXT ROOM

The theatre at the Fine Arts Center in Colorado Springs has done it again.  I've had the great good fortune of seeing every show there this season, and so far, each production has exceeded my expectations in every way imaginable.  First I saw Leslie Bramm's Lovers Leapt- fantastic, tragic, timely.  Then I saw Stephen Sondheim's Assassins.  Brilliant.  Then came A Year with Frog and Toad- sweet, joyous fun.  And now Sarah Ruhl's In the Next Room, or the Vibrator Play, which was funny, sad, thought provoking- your basic outstanding night at the theatre.  The first three plays I saw at the FAC were all deftly directed by Scott RC Levy, the new Artistic Director of the company who has programmed a season that is just fantastic- exciting, entertaining, and elevating.  In the Next Room is directed by Joye Cook-Levy perfectly, with just the right balance between comedy and drama.  I don't know what they eat in the Levy/Cook-Levy house, but it must be some kind of meta-theatre super food that produces super powered theatre people.  How else can you explain so much talent in one household?

The play itself is a comedic drama, or rather a dramatic comedy, is set somewhere in the Victorian age, and is about a Doctor Givings, who uses the fairly new invention of what we call a vibrator to help women, and some men, overcome "hysteria".  The central character in the play is the doctors wife, Catherine- who goes from scatter-brained housewife to fairly modern woman in the course of the play.  The actors are to a one pitch perfect.  The dialogue is somewhere between the well made plays of Shaw or Wilde and the hard hitting realism of Ibsen- but the cast pulls it off wonderfully, at just the right pace for us to digest what is going on and still keep us leaning into the action.  Stephanie Phil plays Catherine with intelligence, sensitivity, and a keen sense of humor.  Chad Siebert plays Doc Givings just right, making him at once a bit of an insensitive husband and also a lost, sad man who doesn't really know how to connect to his wife.  Max Ferguson plays an artist who suffers from hysteria and has several memorable run ins with a device from Chattanooga that brought the house down.  Marisa Hebert is strong as Elizabeth, a wet nurse who serves as the catalyst for Catherine's journey, and then provides some insight into martial bliss in the second act.  Tracy Liz Miller and Tom Auclair play a couple who come to the doctor for help with their hysteria problems, and bring humanity to these rather silly people.  And Amy Brooks plays Annie, the doctors assistant, so sweetly, so softly and sadly that she was my favorite character in the play.

Next at the FAC:  Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men.  I can't wait.

And now, on a complete tangent of self promotion- I am a semi-finalist in a pitch contest that Playscripts, inc. is throwing.   A pitch is a basic idea for a story.  In this contest, called Pitch-n-Play, hundreds of playwrights tweeted their pitches, and 30 were chosen as semi-finalists.  Now, through online voting, 3 finalists will be chosen, and then one winner will be given an advance on their play, whihc will be published by Playscripts, inc.  Please go here and vote for me- my pitch in the one about the real Puck messing with teens during a high school production of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

Now go out there and GET YOUR THEATRE ON.

Lovers Leapt

So it was ten years ago that we all went crazy.  As Mr. Nelson said, ain't it funny how time slips away?  I remember a lot from that day, and the many days afterwards, being in New York, going to Union Square and seeing all the candles and flowers and people, and how people kept painting the boots on the statue of George Washington pink- which seemed very appropriate at the time.  It was a strange time to be alive.  Like most times.  Last night, I was at the Broncos game, and there were all these ceremonies going on about 9/11, and I heard a boy ask his father if we were celebrating 9/11.  It was a strange choice of words, but taking a step back, not too strange.  The ceremony had the air of celebration and spectacle, with just a pinch of gravitas strategically thrown in.  And of course, there were thousands and thousands of people chanting "USA!  USA!  USA!" over and over- which gave the whole thing a sort of pep rally feel.  It was kind of creepy.  Happily, the day before, I went to something far more interesting, and to my thinking, appropriate in regards to 9/11.

Sunday, on the tenth anniversary of the attacks, we went down to Colorado Springs to see a production of Leslie Bramm's Lovers Leapt, directed by the intrepid Scott RC Levy for for the Fine Art Center's Theatre Company, as part of a special event to commemorate 9/11.   The play is a one act, written shortly after the attacks, that brings to the stage what goes through the minds of two people as they jump out of one of the burning towers.  It's tough, and sad, and beautiful.  It's starts with their initial leap, and ends abruptly in the only way it can.  In the time between, we journey with the actors to ideas of what might have been and will never be.  If you would like to read a section of the play, or purchase it outright for less than $2, it is part of the 9/11 collection of plays offered at Indie Theatre Now.  Just go here.  The play was presented in front of a display of 9/11 art by Joellyn Duesberry, with no set to speak of, no lights or sounds- just actors, words, and heart.  I found the spartan staging to fit perfectly with the material, letting the audience imagine all the flames and smoke and horribleness from the plethora of images we seem to be inundated with every year around this time.  The performances by Steve Emily and Kara Whitney were superb- I completely believed I was watching two people falling through space, toward certain doom- which is kind of amazing when you think about it.  If this production is any indication of what Mr. Levy is going to doing with the company, I expect to be making the drive to Colorado Springs a lot.  After the show, there was a talk back, led by Mr. Levy, along with Sam Gappmayer, CEO/President of the center, and Blake Milteer, Director of the Taylor Museum.  One of the main points of the talk back, aside from comments on the show itself, was how the one question we all seem to ask each other when discussing that horrible day is "where were you", and why is it that we ask that question.  I thought about that a lot, and I think that maybe the reason we ask that question is that it is one of those moments in our lives that sticks out as a time when all facade slipped away and we faced the unknown.  I think beyond that, we have taken many different views about the attacks and what they meant- but the unifying moment, I believe, was not a wake up call to terrorism, or a justification for war, or a justification for peace- it was just a time when we all had to face death and mortality.  And it seems that most of us connect to that moment instantly when we think of it, and lose all our inhibitions and pre-supposed ideas of self, and are able to connect with one another.

Joellyn Duesberry, Memory Time Lapse

For information on more plays about 9/11 that I recommend, please go to Indie Theatre Now's 9/11collection.  And please, leave a comment about where you were, and what you thought on that day.