Gasp!

Small Obit

My grandmother died last night.

More later...

More on Supporting Your Own

Thanks for your comments and suggestions on not submitting plays. I'd like to expand a bit on a few of the ideas.

When I teach meditation, I have a policy of not invalidating other people. That means that a) I'm not going to tell you what to do, and b) I'm not going to tell you that what you are doing is wrong. Theater people are sensitive, and not in a bad way. We all get enough advice, rejection, stupid opinions and blah blah. I'm not going to tell you that you're doing it wrong. I like what Mac wrote how blogs are about thinking aloud. While what I wrote yesterday may be sound absolutist, it is only for me. If you happen to find yourself in a situation like mine, you might want to consider the path I'm taking.

I would encourage people who are not in a metro area to develop plays locally. For those who are so very talented that this would stifle their art, then perhaps they could work at developing talent locally. A playwright who doesn't have good actors in the area could teach an acting class. Obviously one shouldn't sacrifice themselves to "stay local." On the other hand, you might be surprised at what you find in your own backyard. I certainly was last weekend.

The idea is to decentralize theater. I believe that institutionalization and specialization is causing development hell, alienation and a decreasing audience. To get around it, I'm thinking locally.

Now, some of you are already doing it. By producing your own work, being able to develop your plays on your own, you're beating the system. I'm not proposing original ideas here. My approach may be radical, but that's only because I've been addicted to a dead-end system. This system has cost me a great deal of time, money and energy. When I take the submission factor out of the equation, my enthusiasm for theater increases. When I consider becoming more involved in the process, I remember how I loved theater when I was a kid.

For me, this is probably the only way I can remain involved in theater. For me, there's really no point in writing plays and sending them out, especially with ever-increasing submission fees. I can't afford these kind of lottery tickets any longer. I'm not learning anything from the rejection.

To be honest, I've gotten great feedback on my last play but also a whole lot of rejection. It's currently at a place where it needs another reading. It needs development. It's also made the rounds of the institutional development places, with no luck. When I look at what these development places do accept, I see the same voices getting in. In my rejections (in general), I've been told the following:

a) The play needs character development. (Yes I know. And I would like to take it to the next level but I can't without working on it with actors, directors etc.)

b) I shouldn't have attempted to write a play like this because I'm not at a place in my career that would justify institutional support.

c) Wow, what an intriguing play. I would love to see that on stage, but I don't have the proper connections to really help you.

I'm only using the above example because I'm willing to bet that you probably have a play in the closet that needs development. You need to hear it but you can't get anyone to help with the process. Maybe you're in a geographically inconvenient location. Maybe it's an unpopular or frightening topic. What are you going to do, abandon it?

So, this is a matter of self interest. True.

I get tons of solicitation information weekly. Community theaters, regional theaters, contests, all sorts of stuff. When I say, stop submitting plays, I'm talking about encouraging those theaters to develop playwrights locally. Imagine what it would look like it more community, small and regional theater developed their own work. There's a playwright in Colorado who is sending her work to Baltimore. She'll have no chance to attend rehearsals because the theater won't pay transportation costs. (No, there's also no stipend.) She can't afford to take off from her job to see it performed. This playwright merely wrote a play and sent it out.

It happens, friends. Every theater can't afford to send you tickets.

So, who is going to learn what? Is the playwright going to gain real-life experience through hearing her work aloud? Is she going to see what worked and what didn't work? Is she going to get audience feedback? Nope, nope, and nope.

I want to become a better writer. I want to see what works and what doesn't work. I need to see the audience react to my plays. If I don't, then I won't improve.

And where do you draw the line? Thinking locally doesn't mean stifling creativity. And no, I'm not asking for free air travel. As I told Dan, I've made $350 in my 17 years of playwriting. This isn't about money. It's about enriching theater on a local level. I didn't mean to imply that I would suspend my beliefs for the highest bidder. I don't even think of money in terms of theater. Sorry, that just hasn't been my experience (sadly enough.)

I write geographically-specific plays. If I wrote a play about Seattle, I would still do my best to work on the play locally. It's just more convenient that way, and it gives experience to others in the area.

Again, thinking locally doesn't limit me.

When I lived in NYC, I never considered this issue. I thought that serious theater people made the move to a centralized urban place if they wanted to do professional theater. If one was not in a centralized urban place, then one had to send the work there. Community or smaller theater did amateur, clunky retreads and it was beneath me to be involved with that.

Just being honest. Maybe you thought the same thing.

In reality, I'm willing to bet that it's cheaper to produce theater out here. I could take more risks than the institutionally-driven artist, and I could help others develop their talent. Since making money hasn't entered into my personal equation, I'm not losing anything. I wouldn't have to deal with "development hell," and I could develop professional relationships with people whose work I respect.

And it would be a hell of a lot more fun than complaining about the current state of affairs and fielding rejection letters. I'm more powerful than I think, and so are you.

Supporting Your Own (Stop Submitting Plays!)

Considering theater is a local activity, why aren't more theater companies locally focused?

Instead of looking for plays in their own backyard - plays that might reflect local or regional culture - small theaters have a wide open submission policy. As a result, they are inundated with work from all over the country. Then they charge readers fees because, after all, receiving a ton of plays is a drain on the resources.

The plays that these small companies are producing don't reflect the community they purport to represent. Something that plays in (California, New York) will play differently in (Alabama, Georgia, Texas).

I'm floating this idea today because I've made a decision to stop submitting plays. I'm not going to send my work halfway across the country so a group of people I don't know can rehearse, "fix", or otherwise contend with what I've written - without my presence.

I will no longer be alienated from my own work. (Thanks for that word, Scott. Alientation describes it perfectly.)

After the work has been "worked out" or premiered locally, then I'll open it up for other places to produce. The only exception is a theater company who allows the playwright to develop the play in their presence.

I'm not becoming a better playwright by being alienated from my own work. I *need* to be in theater more, not less.

Small theater companies who don't look in their own backyard to produce playwrights are not helping the cause either. They aren't developing their local talent. They aren't supporting their community by looking to another region of the country for new work. These companies are supporting the institutionallization of theater, which has the same effect as mega-corporations on the media. Only a few points of view are being heard in theater, and the same playwrights get produced over and over and over again.

More diversity of voices. More diversity in productions. Producing local playwrights will help create relevant theater.

BTW, this isn't an attack on anyone. Just something to think about.

Sharing the Information

Over the years, I've accumulated a sizeable selection of bookmarks that could be helpful to other writers. So, in an effort to share the information, I'm going to start posting my "helpful places on the net."

My first is a yahoo group for writing jobs, called PayingWriterJobs. It's an active group with over 1500 members. It's also moderated. The list contains only jobs - freelance, permanent, contract, as well as contests - that pay money.Each member is asked to submit one paying job per month to be a part of the group. Believe me, it's not hard to do. No free work allowed.

It's a good group, with members from all over the country. I highly recommend it.

Yes Virginia, There's Good Theater in Alabama

Thanks for asking, Malachy. I saw Terrific New Theatre's production of Boston Marriage by David Mamet.

Snapshot: Terrific New Theatre is celebrating its 21st season this year. I read somewhere that it performs both new plays and plays that have premiered elsewhere. The 99 seat theater is located in the old Dr. Pepper bottling warehouse. Nice ambiance. Ticket price was $17.

Boston Marriage refers to a kind of relationship between two women in the Victorian era. The play features the disintegration of a “Boston Marriage,” along with the relationship between one of the women and her servant. Mamet sprinkled his trademark verbal cadence with stilted Victorian language. Flowery words interspersed with abrupt insults is supposed to be humorous.

In short, I hated the way I was supposed to like the play. It’s Mamet after all. I’m supposed to like him. This play has been performed all over the world. Yet, I found the text annoying. I guess I’m not one of those people who thinks that drama means constant bickering. Conflict doesn’t equal arguments, at least not in my book (or play).

Walking into the theater, I didn’t know what to expect from Birmingham theater. I was completely floored with the quality of this production. The acting was extremely strong. The director created a striking portrait with his blocking choices. Costumes were gorgeous.

The only odd part of the production was the color of the set – a goldenrod yellow floor with matching walls. Stage right featured a bright pink and blue stripe that reminded me of a tie-dyed shirt. It was an odd statement, and throughout the play my fiancé and I wondered what the set color was supposed to imply. It didn’t ruin the experience of the play, however, and I’m enthusiastically looking forward to seeing more work from this theater company.

There are two other things I’d like to mention. The house was about half full, and the audience appeared to enjoy the production. I overheard a discussion behind me that indicated that the members of the audience were well-informed theater-goers. They didn’t work in theater, either. Just ardent fans of the art.

Also, I wish the theater included bios of the actors, director and designer. Instead, Mamet was treated with an extended bio. I wondered if it was a stipulation in the production contract. For some reason, that wouldn’t surprise me.

I Haven't Been to the Theater in Two and a Half Years

With the exception of two open mic performance art events, and Brad's site specific piece, it's been two and a half years since I've been to the theater.

I keep replaying it in my mind... Could I have really stayed away from theater that long? It couldn't be true. From 2002-2004, I saw countless Broadway and off-Broadway plays. And musicals. All sorts of stuff.

Why did it happen? How did I become one of those people who stopped going to theater?

Let's take a look...

a) I quit theater. There was no need to go since I was phasing it out. Didn't want to read plays, didn't want to read about plays, and didn't want to talk about plays either. The only reason I kept writing about playwriting was because I thought it was prepping me for my new career as a plain ol' writer.

b) I was seriously pissed at theater and sick of dealing with theater people. Self-indulgent, self-righteous, whatever. I was bored. People had the same political views, same prejudices, all that stuff. At least, that's what I thought at the time.

c) So-called good plays were really awful - or so I thought. I'm not apologizing for that opinion, since I haven't changed it. The stuff that the mainstream, or as I've come to call it, "institutionally-accepted" playwrights crank out just doesn't do anything for me.

d) Success, as others defined it, went against my basic values. I learned much about the business of playwriting during my tenure in NYC. I learned how to recite my resume in 50 words or less, in a casual manner. I learned that marketable ideas were far more important than good ones, and that people who aren't creative should have an enormous input into the project. All of this so-called great advice turned into defining my success by my resume. Useless, unimportant projects were just resume fodder. "It's a resume builder" became my mantra. Blech.

e) I was busy researching and writing War in Austin, from January 2005 - April 2006. Despite writing the play, I was still quitting theater. Despite the Hyde Park Theater being a ten minute walk from my apartment, I never went to see a show there. I don't even know what the box office looks like. In a way, I needed to be in seclusion.

f) There was no compelling reason to go. I remember being vaguely interested in a few things that were advertised back in Autumn, 2004. One play about Strom Thurmond was two hours away. Another was in a bad neighborhood. It wasn't convenient to go. And, in the end, it wasn't important.

There are probably more reasons that I didn't go, but those are the ones that come to my immediate mind.

It may seem like heresy, since I know many Gasp readers are active in productions. But chances are, I wouldn't have been able to see your productions anyway since I was in South Carolina and Texas.

I've broken the streak. I went to see a play last night in Birmingham. It's nice to be back.

Bastard Poem #001

A theater company that doesn't include writers
and doesn't perform new plays
is leeching off the work and courage
of others.

A strong statement
But that's just my opinion.

No Prisoners

"If the outside puts a value on you and all your inside gets to be outside, yes, you may be a success, but in a way you are a failure." --- Gertrude Stein

You do surrender something when you become an institutionally accepted writer. Those who are so dependent on acceptance, those who believe that their work is being taken seriously just because institutions agree to support them, believe their own press. The most important writers are the ones you don't know, the ones you've never heard of.

You can't oppose the culture and demand to be a part of it at the same time.

Theater History and the Present

While considering Scott’s question, “Why Study Theatre History?” I reached for my copy of Theatre Arts Monthly from July 1935. This issue is about “Tributary Theatre,” which is another way of saying “anything other than NY Theater.” There are plenty of cool NY theater ads, however. Clifford Odets was the emerging playwright of the time, and the Group Theatre produced “Awake and Sing!”. Towards the back of the magazine is a National Little Theatre Directory, which consists of community and university theaters from all over the country. The 100 illustrations are photographs of various theatrical productions.

Overall, what’s fascinating about this issue is the enthusiasm that jumps out from page to page. I don’t get a sense of people bogged down by the “stickiness” of process, play development or funding. Don’t get me wrong; the economics of theater are a concern. But they presented solutions or work-arounds to the challenges they faced. The general attitude was inclusive. One of the reasons I don’t buy theater magazines (and I haven’t for almost a decade) is because they depress me. The same people are featured, the same things are discussed.

While reading the issue, I realized that I had a whole lot of unresolved stuff around being a “playwright”, as the role is defined (conventionally) by today’s standards. As a playwright I’ve sent my work to strangers across the country. I don’t know their values. I don’t know what they’ll do with my work if they perform it. Attendance in rehearsals will most likely not be an option. Even when the producing organizations have been in the same city, I’ve worked with directors who would much rather I not be a part of the process.

I worked this way because I thought this was the way to work, but it doesn’t work for me. I vowed for months now that I would stop sending my writing to oblivion, via the US Postal Service. For some playwrights, this method works well. But I’d much rather be involved in the process. I’ve missed theater. I’ve missed acting, stage-managing and hands-on creating. The institutionalization of the roles has left me cold.

Back then, things weren’t so institutionalized. University Theater was encouraged to mix with other theaters. Community theaters were more respected than they are today. In the late 1920s, Paul Green won the Pulitzer for “In Abraham’s Bosom,” produced by the Provincetown Players. Nilo Cruz excepted, playwrights eyeing the Pulitzer today think that they need a New York production to add legitimacy to their cause.

(A footnote to that last paragraph: I had a memorable conversation with a successful “non-NYC” playwright. He was gratified that Cruz won for Anna in the Tropics since it hadn’t been produced in NYC at that point. He lamented that he was having a difficult time getting taken seriously because he hadn’t had a production in NYC yet, despite his extraordinary success everywhere else in the country.)

My own rejection of theater has more to do with rejecting the institutionalization of it. For those of us who can’t work within the system, institutionalization breeds powerlessness. I can see now that my best bet for continuing in theater – at all – is to reject most of what I’ve been taught before. It’ll require me to strip away a great deal of what I’ve been taught, and I’ll have to create new expectations. It’s going to be difficult. But if it means not supporting a system and way of life that I no longer believe in, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

By the way, I'll get around to dissecting the articles in this issue shortly.

Plays

War is Kind: The 1968 Democratic Convention

Everybody in This House