Gasp! by Laura Axelrod

Theater Blogging - Old School

I thought it would be fun to try my hand again at old-school theater blogging. A few days ago, George Hunka at Superfluities Redux wrote about the end of the theatrosphere. Blogging about theater was once a popular pastime among theatermakers. Back in 2003 or so, a handful of us got together and thought it would be fun to carry on conversations about theater over the internet. Hilarity ensued.

As blogging became popular, the theatrosphere expanded to include a number of people from around the world. I think one of its strongest points is that we were independent from institutions. While it was true journalists were members of the group, I never had the sense anyone served as an institutional mouthpiece. We blogged about a variety of topics, including sexism, new play development, MFAs, submission fees, Rachel Corrie and the role of the director. It was all fresh territory back then. There were no assumptions, no “been there done that.” There was a feeling in the group that we were breaking ground, comparing notes and talking about things in a new way.

 I learned a lot. I met new people and expanded my knowledge about theater, writing and life. I believe strongly that the group changed things for the better.

 

I also acknowledge that things were occasionally dicey. Some of the flame wars were not illuminating. A few were downright ugly.

There were several reasons I left the theatrosphere in 2007. I discovered someone was using my content for a theater project. I felt violated. It was around that time my Hollywood friends informed me that producers were combing through blogs and actually basing projects on blog content. Apparently, they assumed you could swipe a significant amount of someone’s life legally. So I’m guessing a number of people (in or out of the theatrosphere) might’ve quietly stopped blogging for that reason.

Also, I was country before country was cool. I moved twice from 2004 to 2006  - New York to Austin to Alabama. I attempted to do theater here in my community and ran into major problems. Lack of resources was only a small part of that. Plus, the theatrosphere was urban-oriented. I didn’t think my contributions were valuable.

 As well, I often felt there was an all-or-nothing attitude about theater blogging. Either you did it 100% of the time or forget it. As much as I loved theater, that didn’t work for me. Theater is just a part of my identity, only a piece of who I am as an artist/writer. I do other forms of writing. I have a book project, for instance. Some people know me as an energy healer and meditation teacher. My practice in that area focused on artists, including theater folks. But I never felt like I could write about those topics if I was a theater blogger.

 

Therein lies the crux of problem, I think. Because when I remember all the people in the community at that time, we each had something powerful to offer. For example, George had his incredible intellect. Issac had widespread interests and was extremely articulate. Joshua had wisdom and fantastic suggestions. Scott was steadily becoming an advocate for people in my position. Mac was a funny, cool dude who could lighten things up.  Obviously I’m leaving a lot of people out, but you get the idea. Everybody had a place. But after the group grew, I often felt like it was a struggle to be heard. I wasn’t in the position to meet everyone after a show. I was also one of the few women (and only woman at the beginning). When we all came together back in 2003/4, my gender wasn’t an issue. But when the community grew, I started to feel marginalized.  It’s not anyone’s fault really. It was just the dynamics of that situation. 

For me, George’s post about theatrosphere is timely. I’ve recently gone back to reading theater blogs, particularly Superfluities Redux and Parabasis. I also adore Don Hall’s blog. I started reading it again at 5:30 a.m., when I have to call people in Seoul, Korea to tutor them in English.  I found Don’s blog to be a nice, energetic wake-up in the morning.

When I blog about theater, I do it at the Clyde Fitch Report. They don’t tell me what to write and I have no idea who is actually reading my articles. Those two elements are a good thing. I can focus on what I see or need to say.

Also, writing for a website that is not my personal blog gives me more leeway. Look at it this way. What would you rather say?

“Hi! I’m Laura Axelrod with the Clyde Fitch Report. It is a NYC-based blog. And I’d like to talk to you about nudity in theater.”

Or

“Hi! I’m Laura Axelrod and I have a blog. I’m calling from my basement. And I’d like to talk to you about nudity in theater.”

 I’m kidding, of course, but you get the idea.

 

One of the biggest challenges over the past year has been figuring out what to do with Gasp. I’ve also been working on having a “right relationship” with theater. Doors are opening for me in publishing and I’ve been encouraged by professionals in that world to write about other interests on this blog.

 

As far as the current state of things, it is hard to have a meaningful conversation on Twitter. I respect other blogs, 2amt especially, since they know and have been infinitely supportive of my situation. But I understand what others are saying in the comments section at George’s blog.

 From my vantage point, I’ve grown weary of the “what we need to do to improve theater” discussions in this country. These conversations sometimes seem desperate and creepy. Has anyone yet suggested kidnapping people, holding them hostage to create an audience and then mugging them for funding? Because that’s the vibe I get sometimes from the balcony seats, where I sit. If I were a potential audience member, I’d run far away from theater after reading some of these conversations.

During my time in the theatersphere, I’ve tumbled with a few people. I know Scott and I have gone at it several times and I apologize for the intense flaming. I know I’ve told the rest of you off in my head at least once in those years, so I apologize if my secret thoughts gave off nasty vibes.

Wow, is this a personal post? Do we still do that these days?

I'm going to open up my comments, but despite my fears of a spam avalanche. If anyone chooses to link to this post, I kindly request the following: Please don’t say that this is a painful post. So much of my stuff back in the day got spun with that adjective. “Laura Axelrod writes this painful post about (name the situation)” And I’d sit there looking at my monitor, completely confused. Were my observations hurting people? Or did they think I was in pain?

Either way, you should know I’ve written this post with a big-ass smile on my face. 

(Picture of dog used to illustrate my emotional state while writing this post.)

Books & Plays: Meeting a Publishing Coach

Is it worthwhile to meet with a publishing coach?

 

Short answer: Yes.

 

For years people have been telling me I have great ideas and I need to get the hell out of theater. I’ve always viewed this advice as a backhanded compliment. After all, I’ve spent most of my adult life writing for the stage. I know the way theater works. It may be imperfect, but I still love it.

 

Recently, I took stock of my career situation. I’ve reached a milestone in my development as a writer. Now, I’d like to connect my stories with an audience. But there are so few opportunities for playwrights in Alabama, and no resources to help me polish my work. Without the resources and opportunities, my plays will never reach an audience. I decided it was time to give publishing a closer look.

 

Almost on cue, I received a tweet from Robin Hoffman, a publishing coach. She offered me a free 15-minute coaching session. At first, I wasn’t sure I should take the gift. What would we have to talk about? But then I realized that it wasn’t up to me to do the talking. The only thing I had to do was listen and take notes. My inner introvert relaxed and I accepted the offer.

 

At the start of the session, I explained my situation regarding theater and publishing. I told her how people loved my latest play, but I didn’t feel like it stood a chance in theater. To complicate matters, the play is part of a planned series. I can easily write these stories as books, but would it be worth it? And furthermore, am I doomed?

 

Robin assured me I wasn’t doomed. Instead, she gave me advice and suggestions that fit my specific set of circumstances and experience. I’m not going to elaborate on what she said since everyone’s situation is different. Her advice was definitely not a one-size-fits-all scenario. Together, we created a plan of action that is doable.

 

Most importantly, her warmth and positivity helped me feel like I could write books. Despite everyone’s encouragement, there was a part of me that just wasn’t sure I could do it. Robin helped dispel my fears about failure. I felt more confident after our session. She also reminded me that I could write both plays and books.

 

I want to add that Robin also did me a big favor. Years ago, I received career advice from an agent at an NYU Tisch career seminar. I’ve always thought the advice was inaccurate and damaging. But since it came from an agent, I wondered if it was true. It held me back from tackling these stories. Robin confirmed that the advice was wrong. As a writer, I had more power than the agent led me to believe.

 

Robin didn’t give me the 15-minutes in exchange for this blog entry. I also feel no obligation to tell you how much she helped me, and I receive nothing if you check out her services. But I know there are people out there who likely feel the same way I do about publishing. Check out Robin’s twitter feed at AuthorAlchemy or her website.

New Year’s Resolutions for Theater

If you are anything like me, you’ve probably given thought to developing New Year’s Resolutions for theater. Looking back, I think we can all agree that 2011 was a tumultuous year. Economically, politically and weather-wise, our world is changing. How we respond to those changes will determine what our experiences will be in 2012. 

Creating realistic New Years Resolutions confounds most people. I admit, I’m no expert. I tend to create goals on the fly. It enables me to stay in the moment throughout the year. But I’m sorely tempted take part in the “clean break” that is part of the New Year ritual.

SMART Goals

Experts will tell you that resolutions, or goals, should be specific, measurable, attainable, realistic and timely. These qualities spell out the word SMART. By setting SMART goals, you are more likely to achieve success.

For example, rather than resolving to become a better actor, set a goal of taking 4 acting classes in 2012.  This resolution has fulfills all of the SMART qualifications. It is specific enough for you to know what you are planning to do. You can measure your success throughout the year. It is attainable, provided you have access to acting classes in our community. You might have to juggle your schedule and priorities for it to be realistic. It also has a timeframe or deadline.

Creating a resolution of getting a specific producer or company to produce your play is not a SMART Goal. Your success should rest on your actions, not the reactions of others. Instead, make a goal that you will send your work out to 20 companies or producers a month. This resolution puts power in your hands.

Personal and Community Benefits

This year, I’m considering how my resolutions or goals will also benefit my family, community or society. Many times, people create resolutions for their personal benefit. For example, you may want to lose weight so you can look fabulous. Have you considered that becoming healthier will positively impact your family and friends?

How does your work in theater affect your family, community or society? Theater folks often get slammed for being narcissists and elitists. How often has your work solely been about self-expression?  Here’s the challenge: Link your work to your audience. Focus on what you are giving, rather than what you are receiving. Why send your work out to 20 theaters if the result will only benefit you?

When I quit theater in 2007, I went to work for a newspaper. We focused constantly on our mission: informing the community. My co-workers pursued that goal with a fervor you only see in nonprofits. Coming back to theater, I wanted to bring the spirit of that selflessness. Whenever I write a play or story, I know now why I’m doing it. I can tell you what I hope to achieve. In the past, I would tell you that I’d like the play to win awards or get produced at prestigious institutions. But those results are now byproducts of my goals and intentions. I don’t focus on results that are not within my control.

This concept goes against everything I ever learned in theater. It also goes against the career advice people have given me throughout the years. But theater is now a more fulfilling experience. Whether I get important productions or not, I know the theater I make will have meaning.

A 2012 Perspective

I’ve deliberately withheld my own New Year’s Resolutions because I think 2012 will demand us all to look beyond ourselves. It is no longer enough to elbow each other out of the way in the name of self-promotion. Becoming a superlative in theater or elsewhere is a hollow achievement if it was only about you.

As I set my New Year’s Resolutions for theater, I am looking to strike a balance between improving myself and benefiting others. The two do not have to be mutually exclusive. I’m sure there are going to be opportunities to do both in 2012. 

Gift Ideas for Playwrights (An Open Letter to My Husband)

Dear Husband:

I couldn’t help but notice you have not bought my Christmas present yet. When I last checked your usual hiding place a few minutes ago, it had expanding foam, a shotgun and extra bullets. That is not a good sign. 

Gifts for playwrights are not difficult to find. With the exception of a few loudmouths, we are a meek lot. Many of us, however, are afraid to ask for what we need or want. So here’s a list of what I would like. I’m sure you’ll have no problem getting anything on the list. I have prioritized it for easy reference. I’m also posting it on the web, so that families and friends of playwrights will have an idea of what to buy their favorite theater person.

A Director in a Box

Pictured: Director in a Box. Smokers and Santa are acceptable,
but not strongly encouraged.(Photo by Califrayray)

You always tell me you have the gift of discernment, so I would like a Director in a Box. The Director can be male or female, of any age. The important thing is to include air holes so the Director doesn’t suffocate. You can find Directors at many stores throughout the country, at different price ranges. Location is not an issue. The Director should like gritty dramas with a few funny lines and not a lot of whimsy. But we could tell humorous stories, and maybe collaborate on films, web series, etc. It should be a long-term thing, so don’t go to those director mills. A good Director is a special breed, prone to evaporating. In choosing a Director for me, keep in mind we should bring out the best in each other. And have fun. So it is going to be a personal relationship. Since you know which sweaters look best on me, I trust your judgment.

Writer’s Market Subscription
A Writer’s Market Subscription is a fantastic gift for a playwright, and here’s why: We can turn our plays into novels, short stories and articles. There is no reason why a good play should lie dormant because it hasn’t found a home in theater. You and I have talked about this already. If a story is worthy, it will always find a home.  So I would like a subscription to Writer’s Market, because I’m sure some of my work will travel along that path.

Membership to The Playwrights’ Center
It’s true I’ve recently joined up with The Playwrights’ Center in Minneapolis. I was a member once, a very long time ago. Back then, I had no idea how to use this resource. As it turns out, their member section is clear, detailed and helpful. I’m surprised at the user-friendly interface. I don’t know if they have multi-year memberships, but it would make a wonderful Christmas present. 

Membership to Scriptworks
Remember when I lived in Austin back in 2006? You and I heard my 1968 play read at Scriptworks. They were a patient group, considering the very rough draft I gave them. Eleven characters, that draft. It still amazes me that they did it. Anyway, they were good people. I wouldn’t mind becoming a member there again. We don’t have to live in Austin to qualify. It certainly would give us a great excuse to visit. We could stay at that Extended Stay Hotel, just like I did when I first moved there. It was romantic in a cold, impersonal way.

Membership to the Dramatists Guild
At this point, you’re probably saying to yourself: My goodness, is there anything my wife doesn’t want to join? I realize that anyone else reading this will likely give me grief about the priority of this gift idea. I have been a Dramatists Guild member in the past. In coming back to theater, I’ve struggled about rejoining. I fully support its mission. What stops me right now is that the price is (gulp) $130, since I qualify for full membership. That is quite a donation, unless I can make the membership useful. As you will come to find out, Dear Husband, that is about seven times what I spent on your present. 

We have talked about making cost-effective theater choices in the past. There is no need to rehash it here. I suspect I’ll be able to justify becoming a member soon. Those are the cold, harsh realities of living in this economy. Meanwhile, you can look at it like Scriptworks and make a donation to my eventual Dramatist Guild membership.

Insight for Playwrights
My friend, Pat Gabridge, turned me onto Insight for Playwrights a very long time ago. I recently subscribed again, and it has been a wonderful resource. I tend to view Insight as a pipeline to small, off-the-beaten-path theaters around the country.  The only reason this is last on the list is because I signed up a few months ago. So you could put money aside for the subscription, since it doesn’t need to be renewed for a while. 

Okay. Those are my ideas. There are a ton more I could give you, but I don’t want to waste your time. Besides, if you are reading this, you have clearly procrastinated. There is no time to spare. 

And keep away from the closet in my office upstairs. Enough said. 

 

Circle Repertory Company: History and Plays

Parabasis published my essay, “Interning at Circle Repertory Company.” It’s a lengthy article, describing Circle Repertory Company’s history and plays from a personal perspective. I was a Circle Rep intern in 1991. During my tenure, I worked in the literary office, a mainstage show, and the lab. I learned how to write rejection letters for plays and a slew of other theater skills. They also taught me how to stage manage a play.

The original essay was over 4,000 words. I cut about 1,400 words for publication. The missing chunks described the downtown theater scene in the early 90s, the role of women in theater (then versus now), and diversity. I look forward to posting those thoughts shortly. 

Meanwhile, if you would like to read more about Circle Rep, I would recommend the following sites:

• Isaac Butler's Parabasis published a series of articles on Lanford Wilson, including an analysis of his plays. Be sure to read Jannie Wolf's contribution about her time with the company.


• Frank Rizzo from The Hartford Courant interviewed Lanford Wilson and Marshall W. Mason in 1999. The Courant republished the interview earlier this year.


• The New York Times published an article in 1994, "Circle Repertory Enters Upon Adulthood." It provides a fantastic overview of the company. Reporter Bruce Weber also details the staggering debt Circle Rep accumulated over the years. 


• In 1996, The New York Times published Sylviane Gold's report on Circle Rep's closing. "A Long Circle Unbroken" describes its history in vivid terms, including the amount of unsolicited manuscripts they handled in 1982. Hint: It numbered in the thousands.


• If you would like to read about the company, I'd recommend "Plays from Circle Rep," published by the theater in 1986. It is no longer in print, but you might be able to scout out a used copy. I found my copy while living in San Francisco in the '90s. Short essays by Literary Manager Rod Marriott and Artistic Director Marshall Mason will give you insight into their philosophy about developing new plays. The book also contains plays by Lanford Wilson, John Bishop, Joe Pintauro, Jules Feiffer and Julie Bovasso. 

Writing Plays in a Small Town: Other Thoughts and Considerations

Pictured: Two sidewalks in front of our house.

Throughout this essay, I’ve sprinkled accounts of my own background and experience. I did so because I believe playwrights tend to be vulnerable to other people’s agendas. I wanted transparency so you could make the best decision for yourself and your work. You may shrug this essay off because, after all, I live in Alabama. But I suspect that the differences between my experiences in the Deep South and other small town experiences elsewhere may only be a question of degrees.

 The Illusion
In many ways, the Small Town versus City debate in theater is an illusion. Of course, it is wonderful when small towns can develop home-grown artists and art events. That goes without saying. But if you are a working artist yourself, you will have to contend with both the small town and the city.

For example, you may write a play that clashes with the culture of your small town.

In that case, you will have to seek production opportunities elsewhere. The same solution will usually apply to prolific playwrights. There is no need for you to stifle your own development and voice because you live in a small town.

Certainty
It is easy to write plays when you’re in college or when your career is going well. You have the resources and external validation to support your creativity and voice. I’ve often wondered how many playwrights would last if they didn’t have that support.

I won’t lie. You will need an enormous amount of mental and emotional strength to go through this experience. If you are writing plays when you have no resources, no validation, no community, and perhaps even no hope of seeing your work onstage, then guess what? You really are a playwright. No lack of success or experience can take that away from you. If anyone accuses you of writing plays because you want to be famous, it will feel like that person has just called you the Easter Bunny.

Freedom
One of the overlooked benefits to writing plays in a small town is the intense amount of creative freedom. You are no longer bound to the topics or perspectives that you had in a city. You are not beholden to anyone. With that freedom, your real voice emerges. When you hear or see it, you’ll know.

Gratitude

Pictured: Hay people who always show up for the town's
annual Oktoberfest. One of the pleasant aspects of this experience has been the emergence of gratitude. I focus now on why I liked theater, what drew me to it, and my own work. I also have no expectations. Being far away from the theater community means that a lot of problems simply don’t apply to me. I also have freedom to dictate how I will be involved with theater and on whose terms.

Having a lot of resources stripped away, I can see how I took so much for granted when I lived in the city. For instance, it was nothing for me to get a group of actors together to read a draft of my work. I do not have that resource at my fingertips here. It means I have to become more creative in how I work. It also means that if I ever have the luxury of resources again, you can bet that I won’t take them for granted.

Conclusion
At this point, you may still be wondering if you should write plays in a small town. I don’t know. No one else can tell you either. It will depend on your priorities and what you believe you need to sustain yourself as an artist.

I have two degrees in Dramatic Writing, and I can tell you that I’m writing more now than I did in college – or any other time for that matter. I am incorporating my experiences and the town itself into my work. Yet I also know that there is very little chance of seeing my work staged here.

I’m fine with that. Living in a small town has helped me deemphasize the production aspect of playwriting. While the opportunity would be fantastic, I would rather wait to work with the right people than have another bad experience. I also see a point where I will have to reconsider my life here. I have writing milestones to reach before that happens.

I want to close by saying this: If you do move to a small town and you’ve reached the point where your work and spirit would be better served elsewhere, you can always move back to the city. The problems are no better or worse there, just different.

Writing Plays in a Small Town: The Disadvantages

Pictured: A drought forced a turtle to relocate on our front
lawn. We pointed him back in the direction of the dry creek.

Previously, I told you about the advantages of writing plays in a small town. The increase in time and money are the primary benefits. If you are planning on staying with theater, there are significant downsides to moving away from the city.

Reminders
Before we begin, I should remind you that my experiences are based on living in a small town (population 18,000) in Alabama. I previously lived in cities such as New York, San Francisco, and Austin. I know what to expect upon arriving to a new location. 

I’m sure that my experiences are compounded by the fact that I chose a radical move. I’m originally from Connecticut. If I chose a rural New England town, maybe I would’ve had more success. Certainly, living in a rural town closer to New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles would’ve eased the problem. Nevertheless, I think almost every playwright who moves away from the city will experience these downsides to some extent.

The Big Disconnect
In 2004, my then-agent attempted to discourage me from moving away from New York. When he found out that I was considering Austin, he vehemently argued against it. Moving away from New York was like a demotion. And Austin – in Texas – really?

Pictured: Possum in a can is a common country joke. It is actually
potted meat.

In the eyes of many theater people, living outside of the large cities – way outside – is a way of acknowledging your amateur status. You become a lesser writer through your location. Clearly, there are many talented playwrights and theater folks in Austin. And I can only imagine the coronary that my former agent would’ve had if he learned that I eventually ended up in Alabama.

You may also have to deal with stereotypes from theater gatekeepers and colleagues. Your small town might be in a red state, for instance. People will have expectations about your politics or your writing based on your mailing address.

I can’t honestly say whether your rural address will hamper the possibilities of being produced in other parts of the country. I expect that there are companies out there that would not be open to working with playwrights from undesirable locations. Whether this policy is explicit or simply understood, I would be surprised if it didn’t exist. I base this assumption on three factors: 1) It has been explained to me in the past that one of the benefits of having an agent is that you can live anywhere, 2) My own experiences as a script reader for several theater companies, and 3) Some of the attitudes theater folks have thrown my way about moving away from the city.

Lack of Community
Prepare to be invisible. The Big Disconnect means a downshift in your desirability career-wise. Networking on a national level is radically different when you live in a small town. Others may think you don’t have anything to offer them, so there’s really no point in getting to know you.

Pictured: Deer outside our kitchen window.

If you move to a small or rural town, you will not have the comradery that exists in the city. You will not be able to discuss theater in the real world. Your small or rural town likely has no actors, directors, set designers or maybe even theater instructors. You may not be able to find people who can read your work back to you in rough form. Not everyone likes theater or wants to be involved in it.

To me, this has been the backbreaker of my life here in Alabama. I’m someone who enjoys her own company; yet, the lack of community is soul-killing. I’ve often wondered if it’s simply a matter of the intense cultural differences. It’s possible. When I left New York in 2004, I had a fledgling theatersphere to fall back on. But then again, I hadn’t yet moved to a small town.

As I mentioned already, the cultural differences I’ve experienced here in Alabama have been limiting factor. In small communities, trust is a major problem. I’ve been here for five years now. After trying various means of connecting with people, I’ve simply come to terms with the limitations of this situation.

Distance and Convenience
If you want to take a break from your small town and attend a concert or go to a museum, it may prove to be a high-priced experience.

When I first moved to Alabama, I thought that living near Nashville, Atlanta, Birmingham, and Huntsville would provide me with ample theater opportunities. For the record, Nashville is two hours away; Atlanta is three hours; and Birmingham/Huntsville are both one-hour from my town. What I didn’t count on was the cost of getting to those places. Alabama has very little in the way of public transportation. I used to commute 100 miles a day, round-trip to get to my job in Birmingham. Driving is costly. Add gas prices to the amount of a theater ticket and you have an expensive night out. 

Improving your skills is also problematic when living in a rural area. You will likely have to travel far to attend a playwriting group or class. For example, I wanted to take an acting class in Nashville. While budgeting for the class, I realized that the cost of transportation was more than the price of the class itself.

Like many people actively following an artistic pursuit, you will want to seek out networking and development opportunities. The big question is this: How do you continue to grow and develop your craft while writing plays in a small town? The answer: It is nearly impossible. The only way you can do it is to take online classes or travel great distances. If one of your priorities is to grow as an artist, consider this limitation before making the move.

Next: Other Thoughts and Considerations 

Writing Plays in a Small Town: The Changes

Pictured: An EF4 tornado hit my town during Alabama's
April 27th tornado outbreak. (Photo by graphizguy2k)

Previously, I wrote about the practical benefits to writing plays in a small town.  The advantages are obvious. Money and time are precious commodities to every writer. When playwrights consider making the jump from city to small town, they often cite these two factors as their primary considerations. But before you pack your bags, get acquainted with one word: change. 

Theater is a location-specific art form. I have long thought that I could write plays on the moon and send them in without a problem. But when you uproot yourself from the city, it sets changes into motion that you may not anticipate.

You
When your environment changes, you either flow with it or you cry: long, loud and often. I’ve done both. The amount of changes I had to make when I moved to Alabama surprised me. It caused me to question my beliefs and behavior. At times, I had the visceral sensation that I was being stripped of pretention, judgments and expectations.

Pictured: Another view of the EF4 tornado
decimating the historic district in my town.
(Photo by GUNxLVNxSlimJim) That has been my experience. Yours will be different. Whatever you personal difficulty you encounter, especially after you first move, know that it can take several years before you fully acclimate to your new location.

Your Writing
I believe many writers take location for granted, but where you live influences your work. I’ve seen playwrights experience success and then go to Hollywood. Soon, they are writing plays about “the industry.” Even if you don’t write explicitly about where you live, themes directly related to your locale will emerge.

How does your present location reveal itself in your writing?

Before moving to Alabama, I rarely tackled the subject of race in my creative work. I find that it comes up now, even when I’m not intentionally writing about it. Another theme has to do with the challenges of being a woman in the Deep South.  These themes are constantly in the background, even as I write plays set in New York City.

Your Perspective and Your View of Theater
Moving to Alabama has widened my view of life in America and theater in particular. The amount of poverty that exists in this part of the country is stunning. It is difficult to talk about it without remembering how much I took for granted when I lived in the city. I strongly suspect that many small towns in America have this problem.

When you surround yourself with people who don’t go to theater, you begin to understand what is “wrong” with it. To describe it is beyond the scope of this post. Nevertheless, how you see theater will change significantly.

Your Friends

Pictured: My town's historic district. The tornado destroyed
900 homes and 100 businesses in the city. One person died.
(Photo by Greg Richter)

If you are moving from a big city to a small town, prepare yourself. Some friends may drop you. Theater contacts may fade you out. This is normal. When I moved to Alabama, a few people quit talking to me. Others made false assumptions about my politics and followed it up with snide comments. Some of those experiences figured prominently into my decision to quit theater completely in 2007.

I know now there’s nothing you can do about people and their prejudices. So I'd suggest not wasting your energy trying to change their minds or prove yourself. Use your resources to further your work and your goals.

Next: The Disadvantages of Being a Playwright in a Small Town

Writing Plays in a Small Town: The Benefits

Pictured: A performance in my town.

Moving from a city to a small town is a large leap, particularly if you're a playwright. Like it or not, American theater is centralized in a handful cities around the country. That’s a fact. Yet, affordable living in those cities is almost impossible. It makes moving to a small town an attractive idea. But before you take the chance, look at how this move will serve you and your work. 

Background
When I moved to Alabama in 2006, I had planned on getting involved with theater in my town. It proved to be fruitless. I quit theater and playwriting in August of 2007. The reasons for quitting had to do with previous bad experiences, tons of debt, burnout, and the impossibility of doing theater in my current circumstances.  These issues, on top of my health challenges, left little positive energy toward anyone or anything. For the next three years, I worked at paying off an enormous amount of debt I had accumulated from my theater days in New York City.

My husband, who was born and raised in this small town, was able to open a door for us to act in a few unconventional performance pieces. These bit parts occurred about once a year, and they were done for a specific reason outside of the conventional “evening at the theater.” In this way, I was able to contribute to the community.

Did these experiences count as theater? Absolutely.

Do I wish I had more of them? Of course.

Do I see a role for me beyond what I’ve just described? No.

Considerations
Some writers prefer to stay in comfortable territory, either in their writing or in their personal lives. I’ve even heard a few theater folks say that they don’t care what people outside of their city think or how they live. That’s fine, if that works for them.

As for me, I like to push boundaries in my personal and professional life. I’m curious as to how people live and why they think they things they do. In my opinion, it’s impossible to gauge all that accurately by interviewing people or visiting a place for a few weeks.  All you will get is a thin veneer, a surface understanding of people and their situations. If you have this same intense curiosity, then you might like writing in a small town.

There are advantages and drawbacks, of course. As I describe each angle, understand that I am coming from my own experience here in Alabama. Playwrights who chose to live in a suburb of a large city or another area of the country will have a different experience.

Low Cost of Living
When I moved to New York City, I had $1000 on my credit card. I left the city with $14,000 in debt. How did it happen? Good question.

I settled on the “day job/write at night” paradigm when I moved to New York. I figured my career was theater. There was no point in trying to get a job that meant something. These low-paying jobs were typically under-valued, both in appreciation and compensation. They didn’t do much for self-esteem and confidence. Some days I worked 60 hours a week to meet my financial obligations.  Still, my attitude was that I should be willing to go into debt for my career. Otherwise, it was a statement that I didn’t believe in myself.

Living in Austin, Texas for 18-months gave me a glimpse at what it was like to live in a more affordable place. I marveled at how little public transportation cost. My rent was half of what I paid in New York. I finished three drafts of a full-length play during that time.

Alabama’s cost of living is lower than Texas. The result is that I have paid off my debt from New York City and I can meet all of my financial obligations without working myself to death.

Time
I write 10-12 hours a day. I allot a certain amount of time to my freelance writing. Since there is a low cost of living, I can put more energy into my plays and books. I make my own hours, so if I feel like I’m on a roll with a project, I keep going. This is one of the primary benefits to living in a small town.

The slow pace means I have time to think. I can delve into ideas deeply and incorporate them into my writing. I also have time to consider my previous experiences in theater and who I am as a writer. I also have time to read books that I should’ve read a long time ago.

I have no children. But even if I did, the slower pace and low cost of living would still be a benefit.

 Next: What Changes When You are a Playwright in a Small Town

 

Writing Plays in a Small Town: I’m a Playwright. Do I Have to Live in a City?

  “I’m a playwright. Should I leave the city and move to a small town?”

If you are a theater major or work in the field, you may dream of having more time and a lower cost of living. I know I did. Back in 2004, I was working in a Times Square high-rise in New York. I went through spans of time when I worked 60 hours a week to meet my financial obligations. I knew my writing was taking a hit. I used to wistfully imagine what it would be like to write all day long and not be in debt. What would it be like? If only…

So I made the move. I tumbled around the country and landed in a small town in Alabama. Population: about 18,000. I’ve been here since 2006. I’m not from Alabama originally, so I’ve had to deal with various levels of culture shock along the way.

Was it worth it? You will hear a lot of professional people give their opinions about where playwrights should live. They may encourage you to stay because of the career opportunities. They might also encourage you to leave so you can concentrate on your own work. Unless they’ve actually had the experience, they are talking in theories.

When I made the move, there wasn’t anyone who could tell me what to expect. Some people warned me about it, but they didn’t really know for sure either. If I knew what to expect back then, it would’ve made the experience easier.

These days, if I have ideas about theater or the world, I put them in my plays and books. That wasn’t always the case. I’m reverting back to my old personal blogging style, circa 2006, to give you a thumbnail sketch on the benefits and challenges of writing plays in a small town.

If you are thinking about making the move, there’s a whole lot you need to know. Due to the length of this essay, I'll post it in five segments.

Disclaimer

Clearly what I’m about to write is my personal experience. I do not have an agenda. I do not care if people live in cities or towns. Whatever works for you is fabulous. I believe that people often talk in theories and stereotypes rather than facts and experience.

In all likelihood, you are reading this essay because you are wondering whether to make a change in your lifestyle. It can be difficult to navigate the factors. If you talk about it with people around you, they may become defensive. You are not alone. Whenever I’ve questioned my circumstances, I’m always surprised at the emotional reactions I receive. Remember, you have to do what is best for you and your work.

Background

I lived in New York City from 2000 to 2004. It was my second go-around in the Big Apple since I went to college in New York City. My reason for moving away this time was primarily health-related. I had a chronic health condition that plagued me for at least two years that I lived in the city. Despite the downturn in my health, I had a rather fruitful playwriting career.  Still, I knew that if I stayed in New York City, I would not get any better. Hence, a move was in order.

I took a month-long train ride before choosing to settle in Austin, Texas. I stayed for 18-months. During that period, I started a relationship with a guy in Alabama – my future husband. I moved to a rural town in Alabama in 2006 to join him. The town’s population: about 18,000 people.

About Alabama and “Special Circumstances”

Is it hard being a northerner living in a rural town in the Deep South? Yes.

Have I ever been called Yankee? A few times.

Do I regret moving to Alabama? Sometimes.

My experiences in Alabama fall under the term “special circumstances,” meaning that the cultural differences have made it more challenging.  There are plenty of stereotypes and judgments about the South. Multiply it by 10 when you live in the Deep South. I’ve noticed particularly venomous reactions when I travel outside of the state and mention the word “Alabama.”

If you move to a rural town, you will be more comfortable if you don’t have to deal with culture shock. If you have blood relatives in the area, your chances of successful integration are far higher. Do not expect a good reaction if you are dropping in by helicopter. This is not the Peace Corps; rural folks don’t need to be saved from themselves.

If you are not originally from the area, you will likely never earn their trust. It does not matter that you are an artist. We would all like to think that the arts bring people together. And that’s true – to a point. Ultimately you can’t force people to change their minds. They change them on their own. There are slew of reasons why small towns are closed communities. Some of those reasons are understandable in context.

But it doesn’t change the bottom line: You may not fit into the rural town. This fact will make it impossible for you to do your work.

Next: The Benefits of Being a Small Town Playwright

An Interview with Patrick Gabridge: Playwriting and Writing Books

(Laura Axelrod's note: This is the final segment of my interview with playwright and author Patrick Gabridge. See? I told you it was a mega-long interview. It was almost 4,000 words long. I'll post links to the various segments so you can revisit anything you might have missed.)

What do you like most about theater? What do you like most about writing books?

I love the collaborative nature of theater.  There's nothing more fun to me than spending the day in the rehearsal room, working on a script with talented actors, directors, and designers.  And then getting it in front of an audience, and seeing how the whole play transforms.  I like the whole process: auditions, rehearsal, tech, and performance.  The immediacy of theatre, the instantaneous feedback and give and take, thrills me.  I'm been working in theatre a long time, but I still feel the electric tingle when the lights go down and the actors start performing one of my plays, with an audience sitting all around me.

I like theater people, too--they're a social bunch and fun to hang around with.

With books, I like how completely absorbing the process is.  A novel requires so much discipline and mental strength, to sort of cram every element of the entire book into your head.  When writing a novel, the writer is responsible for everything--you're the designer, actors, director, and playwright, all rolled into one.  I like the challenge of it, though it also comes with freedom--I can call down tornadoes and destroy a city, or move characters all around the country in a bunch of different cities, or bury treasure deep in the woods.  All of which I could do on stage, but some of those things are easier in a book.  (I can have as big of a cast as I like.)   I'm still feeling my way, when it comes to writing novels, though with #4, I'm gaining confidence (and patience--the darn things are so long, 100,000 words--they take a LOT longer to write).

 Thanks for your time Pat!

Thanks for asking and for letting me share about my work and my process.

 

An Interview with Patrick Gabridge: On the Spiritual Life of His Characters

(Laura Axelrod's note: The topic of deity is an aspect of Pat Gabridge's work that I find intriguing. I wondered if he felt free to write about it, or if he encountered hostility about the subject. As always, the comments section is open, if you feel so inclined to contribute. There is one more segment that deals with theater and books.)

Both projects involve discussions of deity, in different terms. In “Tornado Siren,” Victoria Thomas doesn’t believe in God. Your play, “Fire on Earth,” deals with the Tyndale Bible. Do you find that to be a theme in your work? Are people open to discussions about it? Do people believe ever try and persuade you to believe the same things they do about it?

That's an interesting question.  I think it's a theme in some of my work, including my plays Reading the Mind of God (about astronomers Kepler and Tycho), and The Prisoner of St. Pierre (an historical one-act).  For Tornado Siren, I was interested in the idea of someone who initially saw reality as very fact-based with no room for the mystical, being confronted with things which clearly defied rational explanation.  She struggles with this throughout the book, but oddly, I think it's her relationship with Ben, it's love, that makes her willing to open herself to the possibility of the world ultimately being beyond her understanding, but not in a dogmatic way. 

In Fire on Earth, we have a direct examination of faith and the extremes to which it can be tested.  In some ways, Tydnale and his friends were the religious extremists of the day--rather than exploding themselves up as suicide bombers, they offered themselves up as martyrs.  I'm curious about the depth of faith required to offer one's life up to torture and death, as well as what it takes on the other side, also by people who feel they know God, to be willing to burn someone at the stake (a quite horrible death) in order to preserve their sense of order and power, but also using faith and God as a justification.  I think, in doing an historical piece, sometimes it's hard not to take sides with characters whom you grow to deeply love and admire over years of research.  I've struggled to keep a sense of balance in the Bishops, who were just so ruthless in their persecution of heretics/reformers.

I've had more discussions around faith and religion around Fire on Earth than I have with Tornado Siren (for obvious reasons).  I wouldn't say that people have tried to persuade or convert me.  I like hearing different points of view.  My writers' groups have had some very interesting discussions around Fire on Earth and the Catholic point of view and Thomas More, etc, in ways that very much helped me in shaping the play.  (For the record, I grew up Catholic.)

Can we look forward to more books from Pat Gabridge?

I hope so.  My agent is currently trying to find publishers for two of my novels, one a piece for adults (about a married couple of compulsive movers, whose marriage ends up on the rocks when one of them decides she doesn't want to move anymore), and a second book, a middle-grade novel for kids, about a granddaughter, her grandfather, and some buried treasure.  (Both deal with the topics of race and adoption, which are elements I explore in much of my work.)

I'm currently writing an historical novel about Robert Smalls, a black Civil War hero from Charleston and Beaufort, SC, who had some important adventures during the war (and after).  I'm about 2/3rds of the way through a rough draft, with hopes of finishing a rough version by autumn. 

Next: On Playwriting and Writing Books

An Interview with Patrick Gabridge: Conducting Research for Your Writing

(Laura Axelrod's note: In this interview segment, Pat Gabridge and I discuss his play, "Fire on Earth" and his book, "Tornado Siren." Readers of either piece will feel astonished at the amount of research Pat must have put into his work. In the next segment of our interview, Pat and I dive into a controversial topic and what I've identified as a theme in these two pieces.)

Both “Tornado Siren” and your play, “Fire on Earth” must have required an enormous amount of research. “Tornado Siren” was filled with weather-related geographical data. In “Fire on Earth,” your play about William Tyndale, you included Biblical quotes. What is your research process like? How long does it take for you to feel like you have a handle on your subject?

I like doing research for projects, and I've done several historical pieces (I'm currently writing my first historical novel).  "Tornado Siren" required a bunch of reading, though at the time when I was working on it, there wasn't nearly as much information available as there is now.  I spent months reading and researching, and I also traveled to Norman, Oklahoma, and toured the National Severe Storm Lab.  I went to a weather/storm conference in Iowa, and got to meet a bunch of meteorologists (some of whom read drafts of the book), and also got to know some storm chasers (including one who is also a physician, which was especially helpful).  I also spent a couple days driving, walking,and camping across some of the parts of Kansas that Victoria and Ben travel in the book, which was a blast.  I'd be walking along the side of the road, speaking notes into my little tape recorder.  I walked all around Smith Center (which doesn't fare so well in the book).  While I was writing, I always had a couple maps out, trying to get a sense of where the characters were going and what the land was like. 

For Fire on Earth, I spent a year reading historical material about William Tyndale and his friends, as well as his translations of the Bible and his other works.  That was just the start, to get me comfortable enough to start figuring out where to begin.  I've worked on this project for years and years, doing more reading along the way.  I even joined the William Tyndale Society and went to one of their annual conferences in San Diego, where I got to attend various workshops and hang out with Tyndale scholars and enthusiasts.  It's still hard to get the entire time period and Bible and literature all crammed into my head, but I do my best.  I have a pretty dog-eared copy of Tyndale's Bible, several other versions (including the King James), a concordance, and a Biblical thesaurus that is especially helpful.  Last year, as part of my fellowship with the Huntington Theater Company, I went back and completely overhauled the script, from top to bottom, restructured it, cut out characters, changed the title (it used to be "God's Voice)", all of which helped a LOT, but it also meant revisiting some of the research and finding new research.  The trick, though, is to not get bogged down in it, which can keep me from actually making progress on the script itself.

Next: On the Spiritual Life of His Characters

An Interview with Patrick Gabridge: The Genesis of 'Tornado Siren'

(Laura Axelrod's note: If you are a fan of Pat Gabridge's work, then there's no doubt you will find the next part of interest. Pat touches on his personal life, background, race, and needing a break from theater at one point. Oh yes, there's more coming from this eight-part interview)

So, let's talk about your book, "Tornado Siren." Can you tell us what it is about and how you came up with the idea for the story?

Tornado Siren is about a woman meteorologist who studies tornadoes and who, through some persistent detective work on her part, meets a man who claims to have an odd, mystical connection to tornadoes.  Basically, he claims to have been wandering the earth for centuries, from tornado to tornado.  Naturally, she thinks his story is full crap, but she's intensely drawn to him, partly because of some very strange things she's seen.  She ends up walking across Kansas with him, to prove whether his story is really true.  Along the way, they fall for each other.  Their relationship is tested by some very serious forces of nature.

It's a fun love story set on the Great Plains, with a paranormal twist thrown in.  It's about a lot of things, I think--it's a book that looks at the conflict between science and the mystical, and the urge to understand things that are very hard to explain.  It's also about two people with very different experiences and history, but who are both outsiders in their own ways, coming together.  It's also about race (Victoria is bi-racial).

I grew up in the Midwest, in Central Illinois, so tornadoes were part of our regular summer experience, and they always fascinated me.  My father was a scientist, and I went to MIT (I started in science before switching to writing and filmmaking) and married an engineer--so I totally understand and embrace the scientific mindset, but I'm also fascinated by events like tornadoes, which are part of nature, but also very hard to explain.  They carry with them such power and beauty and devastation, that it's easy to feel there's something more to them than mere rational facts.  I both like and squirm at the idea of events and occurrences beyond my comprehension.

 At the time I started writing Tornado Siren, I was taking a bit of a break from writing plays--I'd been running a theatre company in Denver for a while and had been very busy with theatre for years, but we'd moved to Kansas City for my wife's job.  This gave me a very quiet period to work on a novel--I was in a new city and didn't know a soul  (and I was close to tornado country).  I chose to write a first person narrative because I felt that, as a playwright, I was better suited to something where there was a definite voice involved.  Race was becoming more important to me as a subject, because my wife and I had adopted our daughter a few years earlier, and she's African American.  I wanted to create a character who was a strong woman of color who was also a scientist (there didn't seem to be many such stories out there).  As a white guy, I was wary of venturing into that territory, but as the father of someone who would grow up to be a black woman, I felt it was imperative to try.

“Tornado Siren” is a unique book. At first, readers may think it’s a mysterious stranger story. And it is, but then it’s also a road and love story. I thought its structure was interesting. Did you conceive it that way or did that happen in the writing process?

I had a sense of how the story would play out, but I think you're right that it has a couple different personalities, with one leading into the other.  That wasn't planned--it just sort of developed that way.  Hopefully it feels natural to the reader.

Next: Conducting Research for Your Writing

An Interview with Patrick Gabridge: Are There Too Many Playwrights?

(Laura Axelrod's note: Here comes that follow-up question. It deserved its own post. By no means is this the end of the interview. Our next segment will discuss Pat's novel, "Tornado Siren.")

I'm surprised by your comments. I've been out of the loop since 2007 or so, please bear with me. Is the thought that there are more plays than ever being written anecdotal, or are there statistics to back it up? You aren't the first person to say it, but I've never heard where the thought originates. After I quit theater, it seemed like a lot of others did as well... People I never thought would. So I'm wondering if there's a natural process in people entering and people exiting. Or playwrights who leave by default, who leave to write for television... That kind of thing.

Good question.  I suppose it's anecdotal.  But I think if you check around, you'll see that submissions to new play contests remain high, so plenty of people are still writing.  And I'm seeing a bunch of new play development organizations in New York and elsewhere, who list playwrights associated with them, and they're serious writers, with serious credits, and there are bunches of them.  Look at P73's list of writers.  There are 600 members of the Playwright Binge right now--that's a lot of writers who are actively submitting work.

I think there is, and always has been, a natural process of people leaving playwriting and people starting up.  People get tired of the rejection, lack of opportunity, etc., and change to something else.  You would think that since it's such a tough field and you can't make a living at it, that the numbers would eventually go down.  But I don't have a sense that that's true.  How many MFA playwriting programs are there now?  I just did a quick google search and found MFA/MA programs in playwriting at: Yale, Brown, UT, New School, Columbia, NYU, BU, Brooklyn College, Iowa, USC, UCLA, Pace, Florida State, Northwestern, SFSU, Carnegie Melon, Hunter College, Rutgers, Hollins, Arizona State, Cal Arts, Catholic University, Indiana, Smith, Southern Illinois, Texas State, Texas Tech, Univ. Arkansas, Univ. of Calgary, UCSD, Univ. of Hawaii, UNLV, Univ. of New Mexico, York Univ., Lesley, Adelphi.  (Oh, and here's a 2009 blog entry from Seth Abramson listing programs: http://sethabramson.blogspot.com/2009/12/playwritingdramaturgy-mfa-programs.html.  I haven't included every school that he lists. Some of the data is a little out of date, but you get the point.)

Holy crap.  35+ places graduating people with Master's Degrees associated with playwriting.  Even if each program only graduates 2-3 students per year, that's 70-100 new playwrights every year, who have some serious intention (we assume) of writing for the theatre.   Maybe there should be a requirement that they each have to start a new theatre company that produces only new work, upon graduation.  I think it's fair to posit that there are not 70-100 new professional production slots opening up each year in American theaters for new plays.  (Now I'm depressed.) 

Next: The Genesis of "Tornado Siren"

An Interview with Patrick Gabridge: Is There Too Much Theater?

(Laura Axelrod's note: This is a continuation of my interview with Patrick Gabridge. See? I told you it was long. Check out part one of the discussion, if you missed it. There are eight segments to this interview.  A follow-up question comes in the next segment.)

What was the most fun you've ever had in theatre? Tell us about it.

When I was helping start and run the Chameleon Stage theatre company in Denver in the mid 90s, that was awfully fun.  Lots of new challenges, as both a writer and producer.  But probably the most fun I ever had was working with Rough & Tumble on the production of Pieces of Whitey (back in 2005, at the Boston Center for the Arts).  The aspect of theatre that I enjoy the most is getting to be in the room with actors and the director, as we rehearse and make changes and shape a script into a production of something really interesting.  With Pieces of Whitey, I worked with Dan Milstein, the director, and Kristin Baker, the producer and one of the actors, for a couple months before we even started rehearsal.  Once rehearsal began, I was able to be there almost every day, and felt fully included in the ensemble (I did warm ups and exercises with them, the works).  Even as we neared production, I was involved with writing a grant to fund some moderated discussion groups, and fully participated in those, so I had an in-depth sense of how the audience was reacting to the show, both during and after the performances.

Working intensely with such extremely creative people is the kind of experience that keeps me coming back to theatre.  Though, unfortunately, I'd say it's also somewhat rare.  I'm always looking for ways to get that sort of thing to happen again.

I think the reason I was so anxious to talk to you is because I remembered how you headed up the playwright submission binge. Having quit theater in 2007, I spent the past few years writing in other forms. Over the past year, I started coming back to theater. First as an audience member and then as a writer. But I haven't sent anything out, not for fear of rejection. I guess I'm wondering if theater is worth getting involved with at this point. I've been reading how there is too much theater and too many playwrights. Do you agree with the assessment that there is too much theater, and also, what you would say to someone who is reluctant to send work out?

Hm.  Interesting questions.

Is there too much theater?  No.  Not the kind I want to see, anyway.  I'm interested in bold new work, in exciting companies producing plays that totally capture my attention, in the theater and out.  I want to see shows about fascinating characters, or plays with gorgeous language, or that just make me say wow.  Not so much to ask, is it?

Is theater worth getting involved with, as a writer?  That depends.  You can't make a living at it.  There are way too many playwrights writing plays, just in terms of available slots versus writers with scripts.  Way too many very talented playwrights for what's available.  Graduate MFA programs keep training more new playwrights.  It's much more difficult to get a full-length production now than it was 20 years ago.  I'm finding it harder than ever to get my full-length plays produced, even with a growing list of scripts that have been developed (and produced and published) and an ever-widening circle of theater contacts.  Companies are much worse at responding to submissions than they used to be--nowadays, I'd say more than 40% of submissions never get any sort of response, not even a rejection.  Agents don't seem to be looking for new clients.

On the other hand, if you like to write plays, and doing so is what makes you happy, you might as well write them.  And if you write them, you might as well send them out.  A play sitting in a drawer is half finished--it has no life until it's up on stage.  What's the point of starting and then not following through. 

I think about quitting all the time, because the lack of production opportunities for full-length plays is so darn frustrating.  I originally switched from screenwriting to playwriting because in writing for film, I couldn't get my work produced, so I couldn't learn the final things I needed to learn.  In theatre, I found much more opportunity to see my work staged and, as result, grow as a writer.  In the current climate, I'm not exactly sure how true that is anymore.  (The rise of YouTube and the internet is changing the equation in regard to reaching an audience with short films.)

But I stay in theater because I like working with theater people.  I love being in the room with actors and directors and designers.  Or even hanging out after a show or reading.  Many of my best friends are theater folk.  I like my fellow novelists and screenwriters a lot, but playwrights are really my kind of people.  (Which is why I do things like the Binge and sit on the StageSource board, etc.)

Building theater relationships definitely beats sending out scripts blind (more so now than ever).  And there's always the option of starting one's own company or self-producing.

Also on the plus side, I'd say it's easier than ever to get short plays produced.  There are tons of festivals out there, with lots of different styles and themes.

Interesting. Can you define what you mean by short plays?Fifteen-minute plays and shorter.  When I started writing plays, half-hour one-acts were short plays, but I don't think there's much of a market for half-hour one-acts anymore.  Ten-minute plays will continue to be popular for a while, because they're simple to stage, and a whole evening of them can often sell well at amateur and semi-pro theatres, because they can use large casts.

Next: Are There Too Many Playwrights?

An Interview with Patrick Gabridge, Playwright, Screenwriter, Author

(Laura Axelrod's note: I first came across Pat Gabridge back in 2003, when I was living in New York City. I don't remember how I learned about him. It was over the internet, I'm sure. Pat was involved with the Playwrights Submission Binge. I interviewed him for a playwriting column I had back in the day. He was based in Massachusetts, which I found intriguing. Back then, I believed all serious theater people lived in New York or Chicago. Sad to say, I'm only half-kidding about that.

Pat's extensive experience in theater helped me over the hump of that prejudice. Apparently it was possible to do theater anywhere. Who knew? Not me. When I left NYC because of health issues, I kept Pat's success in mind. I quit playwriting in 2007. After returning to playwriting in the fall of 2010, I thought of Pat again. I figured it was time for another email discussion on his books, plays and the state of American theater.

I'll post this long interview in 7 segments.)
 

What is the latest Patrick Gabridge news? What have you been up to recently?

What am I up to?

I'm always writing, of course.  Right now it's plays, a novel, an audio play, and even some short films.  I like variety. 

For theatre, I'm in the second year of a two year fellowship with the Huntington Theatre Company, which has been great.  I get to work with a lot of very smart people, see a bunch of shows, and get feedback on several full-length plays that I've been developing.  They gave me a reading of an historical play last August, that I'm still tweaking.  I just had a reading of another full-length play in DC with Madcap Players in January.  I've got a short play in the Boston Theatre Marathon, which is my favorite theatre event of the year--50 ten-minute plays, by 50 different writers, each produced by a different Boston-area theatre company, all in one day.

My novel, Tornado Siren, just came out as an e-book, which has been fun.  I'm glad that it's starting to find some new readers again.  I finally got an agent last year, and she's shopping around two novels, one for adults and one for kids.  I'm in the middle of the first draft of an historical novel set during the Civil War, one of those projects that I've kept hanging around for years and years, and I've finally gotten around to writing it.  It's in the extremely crappy first draft stage right now, but that's what it takes (that and patience).

 I go into the studio this Friday for a short audio play that the Huntington commissioned, as part of a set of site-specific audio plays that will be part of the Emerging America Festival (a collorbative effort between the Huntington, A.R.T., and the Institute for Contemporary Art).  I'm excited because it's with three actors who are a blast to work with, and a director/producer whom I like very much.  I did some radio theatre back when I had a company in Denver, and we always had a good time.  Radio work is a lot more relaxed than theatre or film.

 I haven't done much film for a while, but a local filmmaker approached me recently about maybe turning some of my short plays into short films.  So just in the past couple weeks, I've adapted a couple into screenplays.  It was fun to revisit these scripts and really see if I could translate them into a different medium.  It's all very preliminary, just for kicks, really, but I hope we end up making them.

That's about it.  Staying out of trouble.

Wow, you've got a lot going on. Fantastic. Is this the busiest you've been in your writing career? Do you find there's an ebb and flow to it all?

I'm busy, but I don't know if it's the busiest I've been.  (When I complain to my wife that I've never been so busy before, she tells me I have.)  In 2005, I had two full-length plays produced back to back, here in Boston, and I was heavily involved in both productions, and my first novel was about to come out--that was a pretty crazy time.  I definitely find there's a big ebb and flow to my writing career, and though I like having times where I can catch my breath, the doldrums can be tough to take.  I'm happiest when I'm working a lot.

Next up: Discussion about theater

The Walk

Robert Hugh DanielOnce a week, on my “weekend,” I accompany my husband on his commute to Birmingham. I visit with a friend, hang out in public areas and read what other people are thinking on the Internet. The day serves as a temporary respite from the solitude I feel during the week.

When the office workers go home, I take a walk that lasts several hours. Usually I cross Birmingham’s Downtown Civil Rights Trail. When I think of it, I stop to read the historical markers. Inevitably, I wind up in front of the BBVA Compass headquarters, where there’s a metal statue of Birmingham philanthropist Robert Hugh Daniel. For several weeks now, I’ve stared at the statue. Sometimes I even touch it. Then I read the biography plaque. I don’t know why.

During last week’s Birmingham trip, I took two people out to dinner at a new restaurant in Five Points South. After we finished our sandwiches, we read my new play aloud. I took two parts, plus stage directions. They each had a part, respectively. One person had some acting experience. The other worked in the medical field.

A few hours before the dinner, I thought of canceling it. I was scared because it’s been five years since I heard anyone read my work out loud. I didn’t know how I’d feel afterward.

The play is a one-act comedy with four characters – one set. I wrote it last fall to see if I could still write plays. Sometimes, people lose the ability to write in a form. I heard Bob Dylan say that once in an interview. I remember it well because it rang true for me. I used to write poetry, that’s how I got into college. But I don’t write it anymore, though I wish I did.

When I wrote this play, I decided to make it tightly structured and light. Since I have no contact with actors, directors, playwriting groups or theater companies, I didn’t veer off into daring territory. I wanted to write a fun play. Even more importantly, I wanted to see if I could set a goal and succeed.

The reading went far better than I could’ve dreamed. Both people liked the play a great deal, laughed while reading it, and seemed happy to be there when we finished. For my part, I didn’t feel humiliated or ashamed for writing it. It doesn’t need a rewrite. Neither person saw distracting elements that I need to fix.

Where I live, it isn’t easy to find people who will read my work out loud. I’m grateful that I found people who would do it, and that it was a good experience.

The Creek

I spend all day, every day, writing. When I’m not working on my freelance writing projects, I write plays. Alabama’s low-cost of living enables me to write more than I ever have before… Even in college.

In terms of mainstream theater, no one expects much from me since I live in Alabama. It allows me to write with integrity. Before, when I lived elsewhere, I mirrored my surroundings.

Living in Alabama is counter-intuitive. I don’t fit in culturally, but I have learned to respect the differences in others. Rather than telling people that they are wrong, I try to understand why people think the things they do. Looking down on people, judging them, and behaving in a patronizing way is ugly.* When you do it in theater, it alienates your audience.

Life here is different. Expecting people to have the same point-of-view is not an enlightened attitude. Again, this does not mean that I agree with what I see. But I refuse to discard people because of where they live, their politics, class, education, or whatever else makes me different from them.

Our dirt driveway is 1/8 of a mile long. It runs parallel to a creek. Every day, I take a walk for an hour, up and down our driveway. After a storm fills the creek. I listen for the water rushing. I can also hear trains in the distance. I think about my previous theater career, the people I used to know, and if I’ll ever see anything I write on stage again. I don’t know.

* Which is not to say that I don't get ugly on occasion, especially when it comes to Cosmopolitan magazine... Kidding. Well, only sort of.

Play submissions and relationships in theater

Almost four years ago, on January 25, 2007, I published a post called, “Supporting Your Own (Stop Submitting Plays!)”

In it, I made the point that theater companies across the country should invest in the talents of writers in their own area. I wrote:

“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… 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).”

Recently, a theater company contacted me to ask if I would be interested in submitting a play. It was a thoughtful email. They acknowledged that they knew how I felt about flinging work across the country, and they detailed their efforts toward promoting local playwrights. Still, would I be interested in submitting a play to their company?

Quite frankly, I was flattered that someone took the time to research what I thought about all that. Since The Big Quit, (August 2007), I’ve had no contact with theater companies. I quit playwriting, theater blogging and The Dramatists Guild. Instead, I concentrated on writing entertainment stories and book reviews for a newspaper and its website.

It was a good experience, but I knew that something was missing.

After spending most of 2010 wondering if theater was even an option anymore, I wrote an hour-long one-act play. I was surprised and even relieved that I could still write in that format.

Which brings me to the entry I wrote in 2007. Presently, I’m living in Alabama but I’ve also lived in California, New York, Connecticut and Texas. I’m only local to wherever my two feet are at the moment, and these toes are known for traveling. I’ve written (and continue to write) about a variety of regions. Imposing limits like the ones I suggested in 2007 are silly, especially for writers like me who are local to nowhere.

Supporting area artists is a vital mission for any arts organization. I’ve also witnessed the differences in various regions of the country. It is true that what plays on the coast may not resonate in other parts of the country. It is important that the arts reflect local culture.

In hindsight, the driving force behind my ideas in that January 2007 post was personal connections. Relationships consisting of trust, respect and fun are important in theater. Is it possible for a non-local playwright to form a close working relationship with a director or a theater company? It is something I’ve wondered since returning to playwriting. That, I think, is the bigger question. 

Regaining innocence in playwriting and theater

“There are two mistakes one can make along the road to truth...not going all the way, and not starting.” --- Buddha

Maybe it was because of my grandmother’s death and then my father’s death. Or maybe it was because I shuffled around the country, landed in Alabama, and got married.

Those uneasy transitions caused me to leave what I loved, but it was only temporary.

During the past few years, a whole lot has changed, and not just the externals.

I recently began rereading poetry, plays and books that influenced me when I was younger. I wanted to know if those writers still moved me: T.S. Eliot before 1927, Jack Kerouac, and Alice Walker.

But then I drifted toward books on theater, such as Uta Hagen’s “A Challenge for the Actor” and “The Art of Acting” by Stella Adler. I stayed away from modern tomes because I wanted to get back in touch with what made me gravitate toward theater a long time ago.

I was astonished. Much of what I learned over the years has been incorrect. For instance, I was taught that theater was about wearing masks. Hagen’s work was about finding truth. She encourages artists to reveal feelings and regain innocence. 

Hagen’s work, in particular, mirrored much of what I valued in theater. During college, some teachers encouraged students to probe personal experiences and uproot the most painful ones. Rather than processing these experiences in a healthy environment, we dug deep to expose them through our work. Many of us wrote raw chunks of pain that lacked wisdom, meaning or perspective.

Without that balance, our work tended to drift into what Hagen terms “anti-art.”

 We all know people who never seem to deepen. They collect experiences without assembling them into a coherent picture.

I never wanted to be that person, and I never wanted to be that writer. It was better to be silent than to replay that pain.

Growing up is about growing in understanding. It’s also in knowing that I don’t know, and often what I think is a only momentary illusion.

What happened after I quit theater

In 2007, I quit theater. It was easy to walk away. I spent much of my time back then railing against submitting plays, working with directors I didn’t like and complaining about institutional theater. The negativity was killing my creativity. I didn’t like who I was or the endless day-jobs I  worked   so I could devote my “real energy” to playwriting and theater.

For the past three years, I’ve been working at a daily newspaper. It has given me time to sharpen my skills as a writer and gain perspective on my experiences in theater.

Here’s what I learned: I’m unhappy when I’ve giving my creative life the silent treatment. I have to write plays. It’s a part of who I am, and there’s no point fighting it.

I also figured out that I can write them on my own terms. I don’t have to indulge in the American Institutional Theater System. I don’t have to stuff an envelope and mail my work (with a $15 check) to a bunch of strangers. I don’t have to work with directors who have no idea how to work with me. I don’t have to discuss what’s wrong with theater to a point where I’ve forgotten what I like about it.

My only responsibility is to write.

This new phase in playwriting goes against everything I’ve learned previously. I’m supposed to care about marketing myself and career-enhancing production opportunities. Now that I don’t, I can take risks because I feel safer as an artist.

I was reluctant to go public with where I’m at with all this because it’s quite personal. On the other hand, if someone else needs to know that there is another way to honor yourself as a playwright, then it’s worth mentioning publicly.

Where to Download 'Seven Jewish Children' by Caryl Churchill

You should know, if you didn't already, that Caryl Churchill's play "Seven Jewish Children" is available for free on PDF. Yes, it's legal.

Download it from the Royal Court Theatre, Nick Hern Books, or Casarotto Ramsey.

I have to admit, I'm one of those people whose eyes glaze over whenever arguments start about the Middle East. It's not that I think it's unimportant; rather I think the place is a vortex of energy that is far more powerful than humanity. I do not make that statement lightly, and I certainly wouldn't discourage other people from discussing the situation there.

Having said all that, there's a part of me that would love to direct this play, and it's something I'm toying with at the moment. That's all I'll say about that.

Reconsiderations

Since my dramatic exit back in 2007, I haven't given all that much thought to theater. It's been as far from my consciousness as my apartment in Brooklyn. Only recently did I discover that I couldn't remember what street I used to live on. 73rd? East 73rd?

But something has made me reconsider theater, and I think I'd like to talk about it.

Dream Bit

This morning I had a dream that said I should write plays along with everything else. Sigh.

Talking to Myself, Part III

I still say your statement about theater is sour grapes.
You can say whatever you want. I don't care. Any criticism of the system is often dismissed as sour grapes. That's why the system never changes. Just because something works for the top 1% of the population doesn't mean that it's a good system, or that it shouldn't be changed. Remember, any time poor people criticize our economic system, they get nailed with a "class envy" charge.

I'm not saying theater is bad. I'm not even saying theater people are bad - though I've certainly said that in the past. Instead, I'm saying that the system that mainstream/regionals indulge in is bad. Viva la difference.

It would be a good idea to change that system.

You still sound bitter.
Screw you.

People who criticize theater are usually slammed for being bitter or whatever. It's as if playwrights have to prove how tough they are, how much grief they can take, how many dues they paid to get produced. It's self-flagellation, plain and simple. If that's your gig, then that's your life. It used to be my thing, but life's too short. Besides, I wasn't convinced that I liked getting produced. For me, getting published is far better.

I loved theater as an actress, and even as a stage manager. But watching my stuff onstage didn't warm my heart. It felt empty, and I'm still not sure why.

If you hated theater so much, why did you stay with it for so long?
I didn't hate theater. Must I keep repeating that? Seriously, what's up with the black and white thinking?

I loved playwriting. That's why I stayed. And I kept thinking that if I was going to be respected as a writer I had to go out and try to get the big awards and big productions. My heart wasn't in it because it wasn't what I really wanted to do.

I still love playwriting. I'm more naturally a playwright. The thought process is still there. When I get an idea, it usually comes as a scene or a play. And then I have to translate it to other forms. The process is worth it. In many ways, I'm a refugee. The old world was so broken in my view that I had to leave it.

What's it like - leaving theater?
Good. There's plenty of resources in the new world.

There are two things that are odd. The first is that I don't have to work as hard. Most playwrights have an extremely strong work ethic. They're used to working long hours to support themselves and then coming home to work long hours writing. Often there's no payoff in sight. I'm used to putting in 60-80 hours a week writing and researching - 40 hours for my day job and the rest for my real job. In any other field, that work ethic would lead to tremendous success. In theater, it's just a fairly normal thing. So I'm getting used to the idea that I no longer have to work so hard all the time.

The second is getting to connect with an audience. As a playwright, I rarely got the feeling that I was connecting with people. Blindly submitting plays didn't work for me. If I had to do it all over again, I'd probably follow Nosedive's model. Self-producing is the way to go, as far as I'm concerned. There's no sense of trying to impress the gatekeepers. I spent far too much time doing that.

The toughest part of leaving is getting over the idea that I don't have to rescue theater. I stayed for a while out of a sense of responsibility to "fix it." Like I said before, I'm not in a position to fix it. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders when I admitted that to myself.

What if someone asked to produce your plays today?
I don't know. It's something I'm thinking about. Part of the problem with leaving is how to frame the past. I can't deny that I've been a part of theater, that it was a huge part of my life. That's still open-ended for me. I'm not going to send new plays out. No more submissions. I do know that.

I strongly suspect that if I was a playwright in the U.K., I wouldn't have had to leave. The system is different there, and I noticed that the reactions to my work over there were more considered. I liked it there... But I'm just thinking out loud.

Now can we talk something else? All of this is old news.

More later

Talking to Myself, Part II

So let's talk theater.
Must we? I think I've sunk that boat already.

I'm just curious. Has your perspective of it changed now that you're not a part of that world anymore?
I don't know if I want to answer that question. I've thought a lot about theater, and I've thought nothing of theater. It astonishes me how easy it is to leave it behind. Theater and everything about it is in the past tense for me now. I don't think about it in the current sense. So in that way, I don't think about theater.

But I have thought about it as you might see a sign while riding in a car. You noticed it for a moment, only for the length of time it took for you to pass it. Then, it's gone.

I think of theater in that way. I remember the sign. I didn't have time to read it, so I wonder what it said. But since it doesn't apply to my life now, I don't think of it with any sense of urgency.

But I know you. You wonder what stuff means all the time. Surely you must've considered the how and why of it all.
Sure. I can tell you that theater looks a whole lot different when you're not involved in it. And I have thought about why things went as they did, if I had any regrets, if I would've done anything differently. There are times I consider that perhaps I connected with theater dysfunctionally due to my own issues... But I don't think so.

How does it look to you now?
Very different because there's nothing at stake for me now. I can finally see the painting in its entirety. With three or four steps back, the emotions drained finally. I feel a certain amount of resolution. It helps to have something to replace theater. I don't think I could've left without having another direction.

Is there anything you regret?
Besides not leaving sooner? I'm serious about that. I had a chance to leave it behind back in 2004, but I had nothing to replace it. In hindsight, I think I had to go through the last three years, just to confirm what I had long suspected. Which I'm not sure I'd want to say.

Oh c'mon.
After the anger and hurt and sadness subsided, and after I realized how dishonest I had been in not saying what I actually thought... Well, that's being too hard on myself. I think most people working in theater aren't entirely honest out of necessity. If I'm honest, is it going to hurt my career? If I tell you what I'm actually seeing or thinking, is it going to make an important person angry?

So what are you worried about now?
Good point. I no longer work in theater and have no outstanding submissions. I have no desire to be a part of theater.

So what's stopping you?
Okay, here's a thought. The system that mainstream theater uses to pick plays is immoral and corrupt.

Ouch. Defend that statement.
Corrupt - Not producing plays based on their artistic value. Instead, plays are chosen many times because of who the writer is. We knew that back then, but no one wanted to talk about it. I worked in lit offices in NYC, and I've seen the memos. I think that's the reason why you get only a handful of "important" writers, when there are far more playwrights out there who are doing tremendous work. It's why you have the same writers featured season after season after season in the regionals and mainstream. Those writers are saying the same things, so there's no diversity. That's why it always used to crack me up when writers believed their own press. There are many, many reasons why plays get produced. Quality isn't high on that list.

Corrupt - A true story. I responded to a call for submissions from a certain theater company. My play got rejected. Being open-minded, I went to an event held by that theater company to learn more about what they liked and didn't like. One thing led to another, and I discovered one of their chosen plays was one that hadn't been written yet. That means that my play (and yours too - if you submitted) was rejected for one that didn't exist.

What's the name of the company?
I'm not going to tell you the name of the company because I suspect its far more pervasive than anyone cares to admit. With the advent of submission fees, the whole process becomes even more corrupt. Imagine how it would feel to know that you paid $10 or more submitting your script, only to discover that the whole thing was unfairly rigged.

As far as "figuring out" which "one" it is, all you really have to do is look at who wins. If the same people get it year after year or if those people have ties to the company, then you know. Playwrights aren't taught to look at that stuff. Instead, they're so busy trying to please people.

I always swore I'd do an expose on it, but I didn't because no one wants to hear that the system is that corrupt. There's genuine hostility towards that idea.

The immorality is in the idea that writers aren't unionized. They have no negotiating power, with all that implies.

But that last part is only a footnote, since the financial issues around theater are less about money and more about respect. But everyone knows that already. That's not news.

Everyone figures that I left theater because I was too mad or too whatever. Really, it had more to do with the corrupt and immoral part. I'm not going to support a system like that by participating in it. I stayed in it to see if I could change it, but I wasn't in a good position to do that. There are writers who could change the system, but they benefit from it. And we all know that people who benefit from a system aren't going to work to change it.

Sour Grapes?
I wondered that myself, but no. It's an easy charge to make. Sour grapes. But that only prevents people from looking at what's really happening. Besides, I'm happy in my current incarnation. Since leaving theater, I've been published in Washington, Michigan, and of course, Alabama. I feel good about my career.

I do feel sad when I think of the people who used to email me back in the day, when I ranted about theater. Those people were afraid to go public with what they were thinking and feeling. They were afraid that the wrong person would read it, or that it would come back to hurt them somehow. I think of how much I blamed myself for a perceived failure. It was the system that doomed some to fail, and chose some to succeed. And it had more to do with the luck of the draw than anything else. That's a failure that I didn't need to take on.

Again, I needed those last few years to figure it out.

More later

Talking to Myself, Part I

So, what's the deal with you? First you're blogging only about theater, then you're telling everyone to kiss your ***, and then you're complaining about people stealing your stuff. Where's the joy?
I don't know. When I find it, I'll let you know.

It has been a tough year, hasn't it?
Actually, I believe that in the seven year life cycle theory, so I'm nearing the end of this ugly period of time. 2001-2008, give or take a few months. I think it started when I arrived in NYC and has pretty much carried through until today. There's been lots of death within the past year, and that makes me think that this cycle is finally ending.

You call it a life cycle. What does that mean?
To me it means looking at life on a macro level. Certain themes and issues cycle up time and time again, in various forms. Sort of like a symphony. Melodies weave in and out with only slight variation.

When I think of this life cycle, I think of a cracked cement block with a flower growing out of it. Lots of bare bones reality - money problems, picking a city to live in problems, health problems. how to make money at writing... Survival issues. I think 9/11 was the starting pistol for all that.

I feel good about the future. Over the past two months there have been significant changes. That lets me know that things will change.

You sound hopeful.
I feel hopeful. When I think of the previous life cycle, it was difficult but also fun. The last part of the 90s were a creative period of time. I felt free to be who I was and write what I wanted to write. I felt joy, in that my writing was fully realized on the page. I didn't focus on the business side of writing as much.

Describe some of the changes.
I think when I moved back to NYC, I stifled a part of my soul. Which is funny to say because I was teaching meditation a whole lot. Now, I feel like I'm finally getting reconnected. I'm not as alienated from myself. I spend a great deal of time meditating by myself, reflecting on the past seven years. What do I want the rest of my life to be like? What is really important to me? I left NYC because those values weren't mine. I had so-called friends who - when they discovered how much I made in a year - wouldn't talk to me because I wasn't making enough in their eyes. That kind of thing.

You obviously weren't hanging out with other writers.
Well, you could say that but I noticed a tendency for writers to want to impress each other using other methods. Judging each other by their resumes, so to speak. I thought all of these institutions had power, but now I know that institutions only have as much power as people give them.

I think I did some terrific writing over the past seven years, but I wish I had focused less on the business side of it and more on the creative part. I rarely bitched about "the business" in the 90s. I just sat in my room and wrote. Or went to coffee shops. That's what was missing. Waiting for someone to tell me I was a great writer, rather than knowing it and let the rest be damned.

More later...

Dear Theater Bloggers

I am no longer a member of the theater blogosphere. Theater will no longer be a topic on Gasp, and I will no longer participate in discussions of theater on the blogosphere.

Please adjust your blogrolls accordingly.

Thank you.

Crashing the Impending Blogging Event

It was fun to crash the Impending Blogging Event. That was the closest I’ve ever come to talking to other theater bloggers in real life. Here’s a few notes.

1) I would like to address the misperception that I’m somehow advocating for a Theater for the Conservative. No, that’s not the case.

Back in 2003/4 I was fascinated by what you could or couldn’t say in theater. What content would get your script tossed out? I had a violent play that was quite successful outside of NYC, but no NYC theaters would touch it. I determined that content was the problem. and was quite angry about it.

Up until that time, I didn’t think content would ever be an issue in theater. Ever.

So what other content was bad? Around that time, I read how a Literary Manager in Chicago was complaining how there were no conservative playwrights. I found that to be fascinating. No uber-violent plays, no sad endings, no conservative playwrights.

(I no longer think these strange thoughts. First off, I’m fairly certain that there a few musical theater people in NYC are conservative. I don’t know why I think that, I just do. But I digress…)

Like Leonard Jacobs, I’m not sure what Red State Theater is, exactly. Personally, I’d like to have the biggest audience possible for my work, without compromising my vision. Shouting that Democrats or Republicans suck is going to defeat my purpose. Unless, that is my purpose. KnowwhatImean?

(And sometimes that is my purpose. On of my plays was damn near explicit against a certain organized religion, and I had no qualms about alienating audience members about it.)

2) Alabama isn’t as conservative as you might think. A study came out last year that said Birmingham was more liberal than Austin, Texas. Having moved here from Austin, I’d have to agree. While I’m still a member of Austin Scriptworks, I had mondo problems dealing with Austin’s not-so-liberal culture. During my last few weeks there, someone told me that I should’ve lived in the Austin part of Austin and not the Texas part. Maybe. The only thing I know for sure is that everyone in NYC told me that Austin was so very liberal and my experience didn’t match up with it. Maybe it was liberal – for Texas. Not liberal – for me.

3) Finally, IMO the red state/blue state thing is no longer valid. Thank goodness. While we can argue about religion all day long, those arguments are ancient. That’s why I beg off on most politics and religion here. My thoughts on stuff like that change on a daily basis. I’m constantly re-evaluating beliefs. Very frustrating if you’re trying to pin me down on an issue. Or maybe it’s just my Libra nature.

How I Found Happiness in Theater Again

Two big things happened last week. I finished a final rewrite of a play and I renewed my Dramatist Guild membership.

This will undoubtedly shock those of you who remember the subtext of my 2005/6 Gasp entries: I quit. I quit theater. I quit playwriting and by the way, fuck off.

So what happened to change my mind?

Career Advice and Your Magic Time Machine

If you could go back in time and give yourself career advice, what would it be?

I'd go back to my college days, when I first started writing for theater. I'd tell myself not to be so trusting of everyone. The people who I thought were my friends, weren't.

I'd also tell myself that success doesn't give you respect from other people. It won't make you a better person; in fact, sometimes it can make people worse!

I'd tell myself that people who are successful today aren't necessarily successful tomorrow. There are highs and lows. I was often awed by people back then who had high-powered agents and egos to match. I was intimidated easily. I'm often amazed at how many "successful" people back then have disappeared career-wise. I wonder why that happens?

I'd tell myself to follow my creativity and my intuition. I thought that I could only do one thing - theater - and dismissed all other creative aspects to myself.

I'd tell myself to find a way around taking out so many student loans.

I'd tell myself to concentrate on being a good writer, instead of outward trappings of success.

I'd tell myself to write about topics I love, instead of what I think would be interesting to other people.

I'd tell myself that there is no room for suffering in the life of a writer - I'll get enough suffering just being one. Heh...

I'd tell myself that "paying dues" simply means getting good. Don't purposely look for rejection.

I'd tell myself to have self-respect. Anyone with power who asks you to do something that is inappropriate won't help you career-wise anyway, so it's useless to do it. Even if it's tempting...

I'd tell myself not to be so rigid, dump that man, pay the bills, figure out a day job you like, and for goodness sake, quit being so intimidated by people!

Your turn...

On Theater, Class and the Playwright

I don't want to leave a mega-long comment over at Parabasis, so I'll take up the laptop on this topic again here at Gasp. There are a slew of strings attached to the issue of class and theater, but I'll try not to ramble too much.

As far as I can see right now, self-producing is the only way to go. Because I've never really had the funds to do it, I don't exactly know how. I'm fairly certain once I worked it out, I could be good at it. The problem is when you don't come from money, don't have money, then working with money in that way is a daunting challenge.

What would you do if you won $20,000? Pay off your student loans or produce your play? Take care of your survival needs or promote your work? It's a tough decision, and it makes me wonder what people from various financial backgrounds would say.

(On a side note, part of my problem with spending that money on theater is the intangibility of it. I could spend money on publishing a book because its a physical object. Theater is purely experiential, and with my background, it appears harder to justify spending that money. Maybe that's just my hangup though.)

I don't think grant money is the answer, at least in terms of how grants are given these days. As I said before, I didn't wait for grants to research and write my play about 1968. Generally speaking, grant money appears to go to those playwrights who are already institutionally accepted. It seems that once playwrights become institutionally accepted, then money is readily available. If you don't have institutional backing, then grant money isn't available.

It's good for those playwrights who are institutionally accepted to step back and ask themselves how they gained that acceptance. At what cost did they arrive at that acceptance? Does being an institutionally accepted playwright make one a better writer? Obviously, institutional acceptance helps this financial issue.

Several people have mentioned that coming from a moneyed background provides advantages, such as time. There's even been a comment about writers from upper class backgrounds, as if brilliance and money are tied together. It's not just a working class ethic to believe that hard work pays off. Female writers throughout history have had to balance family, housework, and children while working on their novels and plays. Time and money do not equal brilliance. Neither does public exposure, for that matter. It's a false premise.

I believe it's important during this discussion to be cautious about not blaming the poor, as our society has a tendency to do. Poor people are constantly told, through a variety of means, that it's their fault that they aren't rolling in the dough. The worse slap in the face is being told that there is something morally wrong with them. Good writers come from all backgrounds. Where there's a will, there's a way.

There's a sense of entitlement with our generation. In poorer countries, theater is done without costumes. It's done without a stage or grants or anything. It only requires people. That's it. People. Actors and audiences.

I've also noticed that the theatrical blogosphere is preoccupied with a certain kind of theater - urban, smart, directed to a certain audience. The fact is that other audiences for theater exist. There's community theater, theaters in churches, smaller professional theater, regional theater, colleges, among other places. These places attract a variety of people. I've even heard that writers can make significant money in those venues. There are hotbeds of community theater throughout the country. These people take their theater very seriously. And they're good at what they do.

I talked a while back about how playwrights outside of NYC can dedicate themselves to the local scene. Every state has a local scene, and like missionaries, theater people have a responsibility to spread the art. There's no reason why the public can't be more involved with theater. Of course, it would require all of us to give up our elitism...

In terms of NYC theater, I have no answers. I'm no longer a part of that scene, and I'm relieved. I don't have a whole lot in common with that world, personally, and if people with trust funds can make it work for them, all the more power to them.

An immediate solution is, of course, to talk about it. In that way, Isaac is to be commended for observing this issue and bringing it up. It's a challenge, and requires plenty of self-examination. That isn't an easy thing to do.

On Blogger Nights

I like the discussion going on over at Parabasis right now on Blogger Nights. The conversation is spurred by the Time Out NY article, which claims that there are some blogs out there that are just paid advertisements.

First of all, the article does beg the question: Who are the nefarious bloggers gettting paid to write good notices about shows? I think someone over at TONY needs to respond or retract. It's fine to recommend good blogs, but not at the expense of others. I'm not saying it isn't happening, but the way it's written is just, well... not good.

Secondly, reviewers don't pay to review material. Theater reviewers don't pay to see shows, book reviewers don't pay for books to review. (Generally speaking, of course. Some low-budget outfits won't reimburse a book purchase because there's no budget for it.)

I don't see anything wrong with Blogger Nights, even if bloggers get in for free. There's no need to apologize for it, either. It's how reviewing is done.

There absolutely needs to be a variety of voices when it comes to theater criticism, especially in New York. Theater in NYC is hindered by a lack of diversity.

The main problem, as I see it, is that there's no intermediary or neutral third party for transactions between bloggers and producers. History has demonstrated that there are many ways that reviewing can go awry. Literary feuds have been started because a perceived "enemy" was asked by an unknowing paper to review a book. (Don't ask me which one right now. It's 7 am on a Saturday morning and I'm half-awake.)

The lack of a neutral third party leaves the door open for appearances of impropriety. We all know how small the theater world is in NY. Everyone knows everyone else, pretty much, especially in the downtown scene. Still, integrity is important when it comes to standard reviewing. If "blogger reviewing" (ick, a new term must be coined) is to gain strength, this issue must be addressed.

I don't think that those bloggers connected by a third party publication (either by employment or contract) are affected by this issue. It's the rest you have to worry about. As my earlier entry indicated, publicists and producers are actively looking for a way to make blogging work for them. Something to think about...

Remember, in journalism its the appearance of impropriety that matters most. It doesn't matter if nothing untoward actually happened. If blogging is to be taken seriously, standards have to be created and applied.

Do I need to make disclosure statements?

a) Yes, I attended one of the early blogger nights for First Your Born which Issac directed. It was the first time I met George, Mac, Dan and Isaac. Lots of fun, paid for my ticket though. (Does someone owe me money? Kidding.)

b) Yes, I used to be a part of that scene. I'm no longer a part of that scene. Wish everyone well, but I like my current life. Don't miss the NYC lifestyle. I'm not jealous of those living there, but I do miss Friday evenings in the Village on occasion.

c) Yes, I review... books, not plays. I have written/am writing/will write reviews for publications.

d) If you've gotten this far in my disclosure statement then you really are a stickler, aren't you?

Reaction Junkie

"In its purest form, truth is not a polite tap on the shoulder; it is a howling reproach."
--- Ted Koppel

Is truth always an ice cold bucket of water thrown onto an unsuspecting public? Can truth be a gentle recognition as well? Does a more genteel reaction make the revelation less significant?

Maybe this is where things got tangled up. The reaction to the revelation became more important than what was being revealed.

How many times have I thought something I wrote was good because the audience reaction was immediate rather than contemplative? Or maybe there was no immediate reaction at all, and I thought what I wrote didn't work. (Only to have the reaction come days later, after people thought about it for a while.)

In theater, the delayed reaction is harder to take. I want the applause now. But in publishing, the reaction doesn't have to be immediate because the form is more personal.

Theater is a communal form. If I'm the only one in the audience, I feel odd. The actors will hear me laugh, even it's not a laugh line.

Books are more personal. It's about reaching one person at a time. And I won't see the reaction as easily.

(BTW, I essentially agree with the above quote. And I also think that the reaction to a howling approach can be silence as well.)

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.

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.

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.

Confession #1

My relationship with theater has changed, and there’s no use hiding it. For almost two years, I’ve wrestled with the idea of quitting theater. In 2004, I quit only to persuaded to write “just one more play.” I had serious misgivings because my feelings towards theater were entirely negative.

But a series of coincidences kicked me into writing that one more play. When I started, I visualized myself receiving a temporary pass back to theater. This pass was no guarantee of anything other than a completed script. I didn’t think I wanted it produced. My goal was to fulfill whatever obligation I had to whoever or whatever was arranging all the odd coincidences.

About midway through the writing process, I realized I was emotionally invested in writing the best play I could. It was as if the play was a being. My obligation to this being was to see the process through to the very end. Whatever it took, no matter how I felt about it. If the play needed readings in order to mature, I would find actors. If I needed an agent to market it with me, I’d find that agent. Whatever it took.

I didn’t like being sucked in to that world again. I felt betrayed by the “Coincidence Conductor.” I wondered if writing the play was a waste of my life. Time becomes important as you get older.

When I started the project, I hoped that the play would heal my bad feelings about theater. It did. Throughout the writing process, I looked at all the reasons I felt victimized and all of the bitterness. I figured out where all the disappointments were, and I learned to forgive myself for allowing a number of things to happen.

My relationship with theater has reached a kind of completion. I don’t feel like I have to jump through the same hoops anymore. There’s nothing for me to prove.

I’ll always be a playwright, but maybe just not a public one.

Monday Wrap-Up

Courtesy of Playgoer, the New York Sun article on the O'Neill thing. Someone emailed me an excerpt this morning. I know I said I wouldn't speak on it again, but two thoughts come to mind:

1) The Dramatist Guild response makes me wonder if the Guild is finally figuring out how to use the blogosphere to its advantage. Think of the possibilities... Why doesn't the DG have its own official blog? It would prevent misunderstandings, wouldn't it?

2) The "screaming like a stuck pig" phrase in the article made me cringe. I don't want to *ever* scream like a stuck pig. Never, never, never.

(And if I ever do "scream like a stuck pig" I don't want read about it in the newspaper.)

Restoring Birmingham's Lyric Theatre

(Laura's note: 4/7/07: Due to the popularity of this entry and pictures, I have to put this disclaimer. Please do not use my pictures without my permission. It is offically copyrighted material. Email me if you'd like to chat about it. Thanks.)

Also at the Sidewalk Moving Picture Festival, we watched a short documentary called “She’s a Lady”*. The film, which won for Best Alabama Documentary, traces the history of Birmingham’s Lyric Theatre, and efforts to restore it. The theatre opened in 1914. It was quite a hub of activity. Luminaries such as Mae West, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers and the Marx Brothers performed there. When the theatre closed in the late 70s, it was a porn house.

In conjunction with the film, Birmingham Landmarks Inc. decided to open the Lyric for one day so the public could see the theater for themselves. Here are some pictures of what the Lyric looks like right now.

So You Wanna Write a Monologue

So You Wanna Write a Monologue by Laura Axelrod

This article originally appeared in the November 2003 edition of Quietpoly Magazine. Do not reuse in any form without express permission of the author. Email me if you'd like to use it for educational purposes or for any other reason.

I love writing monologues, though from what I understand, not everyone does. Some playwrights think they are incredibly difficult to create. I’m not sure why. Anything can be a monologue: a short story, flash fiction, or even a poem. If you structure the piece correctly, a monologue will engage the audience and allow the actor to shine in his or her role.

Monologues arrive at a point in the play when a character needs to share his or her perspective or provide some sort of explanation for action that occurs offstage. Not every play has a show-stopping monologue, but a good monologue can make the play memorable. After all, where would Hamlet be without asking “to be or not to be?”

If you have problems writing monologues, the first thing you should do is take a deep breath and relax. In theater action occurs in the present, so put aside past experiences. There’s no need to relive previous frustrations.

To get past any nervousness, or even to just stretch your writing skills, my best advice would be to practice writing monologues. When I was in college, a friend told me that he had a difficult time writing them, so he forced himself to write as many as he could. I wrote 18 monologues last summer and while not all of them were my best work, the act of writing them gave me confidence and provided me with some great material for future projects.

So what exactly is the structure of a monologue?

The initial contact. Is there an idea you would like to convey? Is the character’s voice speaking to you? Where is the character? Allow the environment to inform your work. If she is on the subway, what is her experience? Who is around her? Where is she going?

The hook. Why is your character speaking? Inevitably, this question will provide you with “the hook.” Occurring within the first few moments of the piece, this thought will draw the audience’s attention to the character. Sometimes, the hook can be a question. Other times, it will be a compelling statement. However you choose to write it, the hook automatically creates tension in the story.
It sets the major dramatic question into motion. What is the character looking to discover or explain?

Now that the journey has begun, it is time to let the character talk. He or she may elaborate on issues around the theme or story. Allow the character to have a variety of feelings or thoughts. Actors refer to each thought or feeling segment as a “beat”. Consider each beat as a step forward in the story. The tension should be building towards the climax.

The climax. If the story is like a wave, then the climax is where the water crests before it crashes into the sand. Without a climax, there would be no payoff for the audience, the actor or the character. The climax encompasses the core thought of the story. What is the character really trying to say?

The ending. It is very important to have an ending to your monologue. The ending provides resolution and closure. It doesn’t have to be long. With only a sentence or two, you can answer the dramatic question, let the audience know where the character ended up, or simply complete a thought.

While there are no hard and fast rules for writing them, the above components are absolutely essential to creating a compelling monologue. The hook, beats, climax and ending create tension, and that tension is the fuel that will propel your monologue forward.

Writing successful monologues will earn you the audience’s attention, actors’ devotion, and playwrights’ envy. So don’t be afraid and be sure to practice, practice, practice!

On Historical Dramas and the Writing Life: A Chat with Patrick Gabridge

On Historical Dramas and the Writing Life: A Chat with Patrick Gabridge by Laura Axelrod

This article originally appeared in the May 2004 edition of Quietpoly Magazine. Do not reuse without express permission of the author.

Patrick Gabridge is an award-winning dramatist who has had numerous productions in various venues across the United States. Blinders and Reading the Mind of God were both nominated for Best New Play by the Denver Drama Critics Circle. He has recently completed two new plays, God's Voice and Pieces of Whitey.

When Patrick is not writing, he can be found mentoring other playwrights. He is co-founder of the Chameleon Stage Theater Company in Denver, and served as President of Colorado Dramatists, where he was involved in the development of more than 100 new plays. From 1993 to 1999, Pat published Market InSight... For Playwrights, a monthly newsletter dedicated to helping playwrights market their work.

Several times a year, Patrick puts the call out to other playwrights to take part in what has become known as the Submission Binge. Participating playwrights pledge to submit material each day for a thirty-day period. It was through the springtime Submission Binge last year that I first met Patrick. Having always been afraid of rejection, I found his persistence to be quite inspiring. Indeed, since 1990, Patrick has received 562 rejections, of which 304 were queries. Despite that daunting number, his acceptance percentage on scripts ranges from 10 to 20 percent.

For more information about Patrick's upcoming projects and productions, please visit www.gabridge.com.

Laura Axelrod: I chose you because I was always very curious about you and your work. You have had an incredible amount of productions. How would you describe your work?

Patrick Gabridge: If you think in terms of style, I'm not someone who writes strictly realistic plays, I think there often tends to be a surrealistic twist of some sort in nearly all of my work. I've written a mix of things--a few historical plays and a few political satires. The historical plays take an incredible amount of time, but I'd definitely describe those as impressionistic, especially my most recent piece. I'm not afraid to take a point of view in them. I think one thing I can say is that I'm not an angry playwright. You read/see some plays, and it's clear that the writer is pissed as hell and needs to let off steam on stage. That's not where I'm coming from. I'm especially interested in decent, seemingly normal people in extremely difficult or unusual circumstances. I've also written a lot of short plays, and those either let me explore different stylistic things, or just have fun.

Laura: Let's talk about your historical plays. How exactly did you go about researching your latest one?

Patrick: My most recent historical play, God's Voice, is about William Tyndale and his cohorts, who struggle to translate and publish the Bible in English. This all happened in the 1520s and 1530s, and the Church definitely did not approve. So Tyndale and company had to escape to exile in Europe and smuggle Bibles back into England. First the Church burned thousands of the English Bibles on the steps of St. Paul's Cathedral, and then they started hunting down and burning the reformers themselves. I heard about all this from a story on NPR, around 1997. I just happened to be on my way to NYC, where there was an exhibit at the New York Public Library on Tyndale and his Bibles. When I saw that, I said, "Wow, there's definitely a play in this." Professor David Daniell, from England, had just published the modern spelling editions of Tynadale's New and Old Testaments, plus the definitive modern biography of Tyndale. I bought all those and started reading... And reading and reading and reading. It took me a couple years of reading and researching. I joined the William Tyndale Society, and actually went to one of their conferences in San Diego, which was really cool. This was definitely the most difficult and longest process I've ever had on a play. I had a workshop in Denver with the Lida Project and director Brian Freeland, with whom I've been friends for a long time. That was in 2002. I went back and worked on it some more. I had another workshop with the Rough and Tumble Theatre in Boston in 2003. Now I'm trying to land an all out production of it.

Laura: Some playwrights are curious about using research materials. Did you feel like you had to footnote it, or ask permission? How did you go about incorporating your research into the play?

Patrick: You have to be pretty careful about that. I keep notes on note cards and make sure I annotate the source of each thing. For my previous play on Johannes Kepler and Tycho Brahe, I did obtain permission to use a few translated quotes. It seems intimidating at first, but it's not as big of a pain as it seems. With a historical play, I take lots of notes, on 3x5 cards, with specific facts or quotes (with the source and page number clearly marked). Then when I'm done with my research, I'll have a big stack of cards. For an historical piece, I'll come up with a rough outline, and the sort those cards into piles that are associated with each particular scene. That way when I'm working on a scene, I know have all the information I need all in one place. If I need to back to the source, I already have the page number and source reference handy. The tricky part with historical material though, is that on your first draft, you usually try to cram too much stuff into the script, as if to show to the world how hard you've worked and that you're really smart about all this now. What you discover is that no one cares--the audience wants an interesting story, and I generally end up pruning out nearly all of the "research" that I did. The reading and research is really to imprint all of this stuff into your brain and onto your soul, so you can write something meaningful and interesting, beyond what someone can read in a book.

Laura: For elements of your drama though, you had to depend on other material I imagine. Right?

Patrick: How do you mean?

Laura: Well, say for instance, if you said that Tyndale walked into the room and shouted 'help me' and you ended up using that in your play. Would you note that or how would you handle that? I think most playwrights are intimidated of all this stuff, so I'm asking for that reason.

Patrick: Sorry to seem dim, but I'm not sure I'm following your question. Most of the stuff in the play comes out of my head, what they say, where they move on stage. Research gives me ideas for what scene might have happened, or specific types of events that were happening in a character's life. It's my job to flesh that all out.

Laura: OK.

Patrick: In the Tyndale play, however, there are quite a few places where there are two characters who speak only in Biblical verse. Those are direct quotes, but they come from a source that's almost 500 years old. With the types of material that I work on, it's rare to have much direct knowledge of what these guys ever did or said, so I just get to make it up.

Laura: Gotcha. I think most playwrights are intimidated at the thought of using research and whatnot. I attended a Dramatist Guild seminar on it and there were many questions and not nearly enough time.

Patrick: I love historical stuff. Sometimes I think that's all I'd ever like to write. But it's so time consuming, and the market for it is small... Especially if you write about obscure stuff, like I've done... Though I will also say that my latest play, a comedy about race, about well-meaning white people, has been an absolute hoot to work on. I think theatres are afraid to take risks on historical material, especially stuff that isn't clearly topica. I've had a tough time getting more productions of Reading the Mind of God, my Kepler and Tycho play, even though it had great reviews and won national awards, When we did it in Denver, we thought it would have a small audience, but we sold out an entire four-week run, and even brought it back for Denver Theatre in the Park the following summer. At Denver Theatre in the Park, where it was the first time they'd ever done a new play, we had 2,000 people there on one night.

Laura: Here's a question for you... How many drafts on average do you usually go through?

Patrick: Hmmm. That's a toughie, because how much of a rewrite is required to consider something a draft?

Laura: Eh... Even a polish is a draft I guess.

Patrick: On my current play, Pieces of Whitey, I think I'm on the fifth draft officially, though it would be more if you count small tweaks. So, I guess I'd say 5-7 drafts of a play before it gets to a production. But then once it's in production, with a full-length play, I might end up making more changes. With Reading the Mind of God, I rewrote the entire second act about 2-3 weeks before we opened. And it was a BIG improvement.

Laura: Do you find that not being in New York harder as a playwright? I know you are quite an inspiration to other playwrights with regards to submissions and marketing.

Patrick: I guess it's hard for me to say because I haven't been a playwright in New York since 1990. There are some things that might be harder about trying to make it into the commercial realm, I suppose. But in terms of improving as a writer, I think as long as you live in a place where you have access to talented actors and producers and directors interested in new plays, you'll be fine. I certainly send out a lot of play submissions, and I have a pretty good track record.

Laura: Can I ask, do you have an agent? What is your opinion of them?

Patrick: I don't have an agent. I go through periods of wanting one, and have sent out a few queries in my life to them. I have to admit that I don't know any theatre agents, so I don't know if I'd have an opinion. However, not having an agent certainly hasn't slowed me down too much, I guess.

Laura: No, it certainly hasn't.

Patrick: I also think that it depends on the type of material that you're writing. Agents exist to help negotiate deals for material with strong commercial potential.

Laura: Good point.

Patrick: I think a lot of us kid ourselves about whether our material is truly commercial or not. To be honest, I don't think an agent would have been a big help to me up until this point in my career. I just wasn't writing the kind of material that was going to make folks a ton of money. I think my new play might be a departure from that.

Laura: How long have you been writing plays now? And what made you become a playwright anyway?

Patrick: I started out in theatre as a kid, acting in community theatre productions in junior high and high school, plus class plays and all that. I wrote a one-act play, on a lark, one summer when I was home from college. I sent it to the theatre that I worked with in my small upstage NY hometown, and they decided to produce it. I think I was 19. It was me, Elaine May, and Tennessee Williams.

Laura: Wow.

Patrick: Yeah, it was really cool. In college I get really into making movies and writing screenplays. But I had a lot of good response to my theatre stuff, what little I was doing. And Hollywood was not at all interested in a wet behind the ears, 21-year-old screenwriter living in New Jersey. And, to make things worse, I felt like I wasn't getting any better as a writer. I'd write these screenplays, and no one would read them or produce them. But I happened to join a playwrights group that met at St. Mark's in the Bowery, the same space where supposedly Sam Shepard got his start.

Laura: Right.

Patrick: And I just loved the feedback and working with the actors. So, not knowing any better, I decided to self-produce a showcase of my first full-length play, off-off Broadway, in Soho. It was a trying, fantastic, exhausting, and formative experience. It helps to do these things when you're too stupid to know that you shouldn't.

Laura: How do you balance out your life and your writing? I think at times I get frustrated with not getting paid a living wage as a playwright and I think other playwrights feel the same way.

Patrick: Yeah. That's pretty tough. I've certainly spent my share of time bitching and moaning about not getting paid. My life is pretty full. I'm married with two kids. I'm lucky to have an understanding and supportive spouse. My main advice to young writers is to marry well. The thing with writing plays is that you're not going to get rich, and probably not going to get famous. So you'd better like doing it. That's why I do it, because there aren't many things that I enjoy more. Getting paid, even a little bit is a bonus. Getting paid a lot wouldn't hurt, don't get me wrong. But the thing is, theatre is cheap. You can call up a few actors, find a space, and read a play.

Laura: Any other advice to playwrights?

Patrick: It's easy to start a playwrights group. I've done it a couple times. You have to make your own tools, and theatre allows you to do so easily. What do you need? Do you need support and feedback? Start a writers group. Set up a staged reading. Do you need more information on where to submit plays? Start a newsletter? Do not enough new plays get done in your town? Start a theatre company.

Laura: Through starting the newsletter and the submissions group, you've certainly helped other playwrights as well.

Patrick: It's just not that complicated. That's the nice thing about theatre, it's hands on. Helping other writers is rewarding, no doubt about it. For me, helping improve the climate for playwrights anywhere helps me, too.

Laura: Well, I could talk to you all night long because I find that you are a wealth of information. I don't want you to get writer's cramp though.

Patrick: I think of all writers, playwrights are especially generous. As you can see, I would go on all night long, if allowed, because I love this stuff. Thanks.

Laura: No, thank you.