Gasp! by Laura Axelrod

Morning Pages and The Artists Way

Although I don’t feel creatively blocked, I started working on Julia Cameron’s “The Artist’s Way” a few days ago. The program is for people who want to unleash creativity. I completed the exercises back in 1997, in conjunction with going to a meditation school.

I had significant creative blocks in the ’90s, primarily due to violent relationship. It wasn’t a normal creative block, where you don’t feel like writing. I wanted to write, but didn’t feel safe enough. Anything that reminded me of that relationship produced flashbacks and other problems. So I disconnected from aspects of my creativity, including theater and playwriting.

It was a long journey to be able to write plays again. Part of that journey was completing The Artist’s Way. It wasn’t my only tool, but it sure helped.

A few years ago, I bought Cameron’s entire collection, including “The Artist’s Way,” “Walking in the World,” and “Finding Water.” I had just moved to Alabama and felt as thought I left myself back in Texas and New York City. I never had the time to do the exercises. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate in 2008.

Now, I feel compelled to widen my creative flow. I’m starting with the Morning Pages and Artist’s Date. After the New Year, I’ll begin to work my way through the weekly exercises.

This time, I’d like to regain my sense of freedom. I’ve spent a decade dealing with the business side of writing, which kills creativity. Too many people through the years have told me what to write, how to write and criticized what I’ve written. It’s unavoidable if you want to pursue writing professionally. Gradually, I’ve made myself smaller and smaller, caring more about what’s acceptable for other rather than what is true for myself. 

A New Chapter

I met with Publishing Coach Robin Hoffman on my Dad’s birthday. Although he passed away in 2008, he was a big supporter of my writing career. Having an hour-long session with Robin that day was a way of honoring my connection to him.

I met with Robin once before. She impressed me with her knowledge and positive energy. Her suggestions were specific to my situation. After speaking with her, I wrote 17,000 words of a new novel.

But then, something inside told me to stop. Some hard choices were approaching, and I needed feedback on my book concept. Was I headed in the right direction?

The Discussion

Theater doesn’t have the equivalent of a publishing coach, so I was very nervous about the meeting. Could I articulate my book concept accurately? Would she laugh at me or think it was stupid? 

As it turns out, she listened with an open mind and heart. Immediately, we began bantering back and forth about the strengths and weaknesses of the concept. She was able to pinpoint right away where the idea needed more work. There was nothing in my story that was wrong, but there were parts that weren’t fully conceived. She gave me tips to discover where I could take the story, since the concept had so much potential.

Aside from the story itself, Robin did something for me that no one has ever done before. She reflected my voice back to me. Instead of being a generalist, she told me I sounded like a suspense author. It stunned me since I never thought of it that way. Running several other ideas by her confirmed it. I write thrillers.

It made sense. My most successful work in theater used elements of suspense. I love conspiracies and pulp fiction. Everything came together, but I had never seen it that way before.

The Results

My hour-long conversation with Robin changed the direction of my writing career. It also altered how I see myself. She gave me a plan that was simple and complete. Now it is my responsibility to write a new chapter.

Three Poets of Modern Korea: Yi Sang, Hahm Dong-seon and Choi Young-m

Three Poets of Modern Korea: Yi Sang, Hahm Dong-seon and Choi Young-mi
Translated by Yu Jung-yul and James Kimbrell
Sarabande Books, 2002

 This book gives readers a taste of three Korean poets, each from a different generation. Enthusiasts will appreciate the diversity of style, gender, age and content. My favorites include Yi Sang's Poem No. II and Poem No. XV. Hahm Dong-seon's work was also fascinating, especially when considering his life. "Records of a Journey" and "The Last Face" moved me deeply. A great book if you want to understand how war, exile and the fight for democracy play out in literature. It will undoubtedly lead me to study more work by these Korean poets.

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.

Grief and a Writer's Block

At the end of August, my Father was diagnosed with incurable liver cancer. On November 2nd, he died.

I haven't been able to write anything since.

Oh, I've written reviews and snippets of news stories. I've rewritten ten pages of a novel, but I can't bring myself to focus. Everything is dormant now.

My resistance is based on the idea that to continue on with life would be disrespectful to my Father. But it is a block that makes no sense. He put me through college, bought me a Writer's Market before I moved to New York City. Every time I spoke with him, he'd ask, "Have you submitted your work lately?"

Continuing to write would honor him. Yet, I can't do it.

"Making stories up" in any form - plays or books - requires writers to pull the lid off their emotional lives. I am forced to feel things that, in reality, don't exist. Maybe the extra emotional baggage is too heavy right now.

When I found out that he had cancer, I made a promise to myself and him that I would be present for him. All of me, including my emotional life. Subconsciously, I knew my time with him was limited. Each conversation, including the last one, needed to be remembered.

In his final days, I imagined what it would be like to be him. How would I feel about my life? What would I remember? What was important? Would I have a sense that I was going somewhere? Would anyone be there to comfort me?

At the end, what would I have to say about my life?

I don't know.

I aged more from his death than from any other event in my life. In the meantime, I try to provide comfort for my Mother, who is suddenly interested in talking about the details of own death; where she will be buried and how. She's not that old, I say to myself. I'm not that old. Still, I notice wrinkles on my face, or how easy it is for my Mother to fall asleep in her reclining chair. Just like her Mother before her.

"I'm her now," my Mother says. "I just didn't think it would happen so soon."

For me, writing has been a refuge, a safe way to release words that needed to see light. Words are energy. Creation matters.

My Father is dead, and I've been afraid to tell you how that feels.

So far, the beginning: Reflections of Project 1968

While Janine and Amy contend with what will soon be known as the Tet Offensive, I thought it would be as good a time as any to reflect on a portion of the writing process thus far.

I always knew that I was an impatient writer. I would love to sit you down and tell you the whole story, from beginning to end. All the twists and turns and how everyone ends up. It's funny to do it this way. Not funny, ha ha. You know what I mean. Not only *how* they end up, but *who* they end up being will surprise you.

Because of this, writing the project became a spiritual practice. Rather than dealing with these people in one straight shot - 120 pages - I live with these people daily. In real life, people don't change because of plot points. Structure is only be seen in hindsight.

Which isn't to say that the story is structureless. It most definitely has a structure - plot points included. But the structure in a form like this has to be subtle.

Tet offficially begins the story. Much of what has already happened was groundwork. The play - in particular Janine's story - opened right at this point. But it seemed important to blog the prelude so people could latch onto the story. Plus, the Coalition for a Democratic Alternative ran a full page ad in the New York Times on January 14. I took it as a sign from God to begin blogging that day.

A Project 1968 FAQ

1) Is it updated daily?
Twice daily, at least. Janine, the McCarthy campaign worker is steadfast in keeping her daily journal. She is very excited to share her experiences. Amy is just about ready to get over her paranoia. Give her a week or so, and she’ll be a pro.

2) What is a Blog Docu-Novel anyway?
A Blog Docu-Novel is a novel with footnotes. It is blogged in bite-sized chunks for a net audience.

3) What are your sources?
The Eisenhower Commission reports from the Lyndon Baines Johnson Presidential Library, White House Confidential files, FBI & CIA files, Chicago 7/8 Trial documents, and out of print books. NY Times and other newspapers from around the country help fill out the daily details of events.

4) Are you proud of the fact that you haven’t voted in three presidential elections?
No, and I don’t encourage such behavior. It has provided the genesis for this project.

5) Can I tell my friends about your Blog Docu-Novel?
Yes, send them to www.project1968.com.

6) What about the comments?
Comments are on the pages, where you can find commentary and a slew of other information.

Project 1968, my blog docu-novel

Long-time readers will remember a play I wrote that I talked about back in 2006 to early 2007 called: War is Kind: The 1968 Democratic Convention. It was the story of two young women in 1968 - a campaign worker for Senator Eugene McCarthy and a peace activist. The first act of the play followed the events from January to July of that year. The second act was the convention itself, including the riots.

I spent just about 18 months in Austin, Texas researching the play at the LBJ Presidential Library. I also went to the Chicago Historical Society, as well as the National Archives in Chicago to conduct research. I dug through many used books, collected ephemera, and made every attempt to bring an historically accurate version of events to the stage.

This story is important because the perspective of women from that time period has been largely ignored. This is due to the rampant sexism of that period. There was a reason, after all, that the women's movement gained momentum - just after 1968. McCarthy's story has also been ignored. He hasn't been given the credit he truly deserves for the role he played that year.

I was not alive back then. This is an advantage. I'm not plagued by the nostaligic baggage of those who are still invested in memories of their youth. I will publicly admit, for the first time, that I'm a political agnostic. For me, the question isn't who I will support in 2008 - it's whether or not I'll vote. After all, the last time I voted in a presidential election was in 1992. There are a number of reasons for that, which is just one of the reasons I chose to write this story.

After the third draft of the play was completed back in 2006, I began submitting it to development organizations throughout the country. I needed to hear the play out loud to get a better understanding of where I was in the writing process. Theater is an art that requires community. I was lucky enough to get a reading from Austin Scriptworks, which helped a great deal. After that, I edited the play rather mercilessly. When the fifth draft was completed, I once again attempted to get a reading of it. That's when I hit a brick wall. No development organizations would touch it, and I couldn't get a reading of the play anywhere.

Several agents looked at the fifth draft. One well-known agent said "It is original, well written and constructed with good parts and makes a valuable contribution to the understanding of the historical period." Despite that, she wasn't sure if it would be "commercially viable" in New York. But could she keep a copy of it anyway?

Another agent thought the play was a good idea, but alas, I didn't have the proper resume to have written it.

For a while after that, I tried to get readings - without luck. Finally, there came a point when I just didn't have the money to continue submitting the play. It also seemed like a losing proposition. Either I pay my bills or pay reading fees and postage. Since this project was entirely self-funded, meaning no grant money either, I had no other choice than to shelve the play.

My friends and family, however, had other ideas. They insisted that I do something with the story because it was worthwhile and needed to be told. I had gotten so much positive feedback from "audience members" that it was beginning to seem that the only people who didn't want to do something with the story were theater people.

Last year, I committed to blogging the story. Taking a play, which was a macro version of events and whittling it down to a day by day accounting required more research, more writing and more thought. Sometimes, I wasn't sure if it would be worth the effort, but I figured at the very least I would finally have a voice for my work. That alone would make it worthwhile.

And so today, on Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday, I'm launching Project 1968, a blog docu-novel about the lives of two young women during that turbulent year. As the sidebar says, "Janine Stephenson, an 18-year old freshman from the University of Wisconsin, took the semester off to campaign for Senator Eugene McCarthy. She is accompanied by her best friend, Becca.

Amy, an anti-war protester, works at a well-known peace group in Chicago.

Links to source notes, ephemera and commentary are located at the bottom of many entries. Comments are allowed on these back pages."

Project 1968 will be updated daily.

I had some domain-mapping issues, so for the next few days, you can reach the site by www.project1968.com. It will be a dot net very soon.

Since this is brand new territory, I'll be tweaking the site as I go. The sidebars will say different things. The comments are moderated, for the moment. We'll see how it goes. The subject matter is volatile, but the moderation may be temporary.

I'll discuss other thoughts and issues with the creation of this project periodically on this blog. Otherwise, welcome to the world of 1968, though the eyes of Janine and Amy.

Dream Bit

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

Patrick's Meme

Oy, Patrick Gabridge has tapped me for his meme. It’s called “Five Strengths.” Here’s it is:

"Make a list of five strengths that you possess as a writer/artist. It's not really bragging, it's an honest assessment (forced upon you by this darn meme). Please resist the urge to enumerate your weaknesses, or even mention them in contrast to each strong point you list. Tag four other writers or artists whom you'd like to see share their strengths."

1) I have lots and lots and lots of ideas. I don’t seem to ever run out of them. In fact, I probably have more ideas for articles, books, films and other creative projects than I will ever be able to implement.

2) I’m very good at taking a form, tinkering with it and creating something new. This extends beyond writing to day jobs. My office resume states that I excel at creating new processes. I gravitate towards cutting-edge, which is probably why theater and I didn’t get along too well.

3) I love rewriting. I love getting rid of extra verbiage. It comes from writing poetry as a child.

4) I keep an open mind. I’ll entertain all sorts of ideas – from the absolute wacky to the unbearably rigid. It doesn’t matter who thought the thought; only the thought itself matters. I can listen to Air America, Far-Right Radio, Coast to Coast, Whitley Strieber and give it all equal credence. Anything is possible. Isn’t that what creativity is about?

5) I’ve always read a tremendous amount of books and magazines. And I’m glad to finally come out of the closet about it. Especially since I was taught to never talk about things that other people may not know about. Yes, that’s weird, but that’s why I always kept my reading a secret. If I didn’t, I was accused of being a braggart. So, in an effort not to make people uncomfortable, I never talked about anything I read.

Now, I have to give this to five people. Too bad I’m “in-between communities” right now. Patrick, can we expand this meme to include people in other professions? How about “five strengths for your particular profession.” Sigh. I hope I’m not breaking the rules. I’m such a rule-freak.

Here it is. Scott, Joshua (because I know you guys still read Gasp), Cormac, Owentew (even though I don’t know if he’ll do it) and Megan.

Chewing Erasers

I can't be the only one in the world who approaches each new writing assignment with a complete lack of confidence. Every week, as deadline looms, I sit at my desk nervously wondering if this is the week that I'll come up with absolutely nothing. Phrases that don't fit, ideas awkwardly stated, a full deck of failure.

When I write plays, I don't have these issues. I approach an assignment nervous, but excited. Sure, I have my neurotic head weirdness, but I also feel exhilarated. I don't think about rejection. I don't worry about failure. Even the times that I wrote on deadline for a public reading, like at Raw Impressions for instance, I didn't concern myself with these kinds of fears. I just listened for the characters.

Playwriting comes easily for me. It feels natural. When I decided to go in this other direction, I knew that it would be like learning a new language. That's why I started blogging years ago. I wanted to learn another form of writing.

It will get easier. I know I'm not the only one who goes through confidence issues. Discomfort means growth, so the best thing to do is keep being uncomfortable.

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...

Writing and Spirituality

A few weeks ago, I began thinking about the role spirituality had in my own writing. I've had a long attraction to writers who integrate their brand of spirituality into their work. Writers like T.S. Eliot, Natalie Goldberg, Hildegard Von Bingen, and Alice Walker have earned my admiration because they search for the meaning of life on their terms.

To me, one of the most important qualities of being a writer/artist is to remain teachable and keep an open mind. I think that's probably why I'm disappointed at the quality of the discussion going on right now about theater and religion.

So here's what I'd prefer to talk about: How do your spiritual beliefs figure into your work? If you believe in God or Gods, does it play a role in your work? Are you inspired by that? How exactly does it work for you?

If you don't believe in a higher being or spirit, how does that figure into your writing?

For me, I'm a bit more of a hippy than I'd care to admit. I spent most of my 20s in San Francisco, so I've been exposed to most alternate forms of spirituality. I've called myself a number of different things through the years. Yes, I attended - and graduated - from a seminary, but it was an unconventional one. The most important quality about my years there was allowing others to have their own beliefs.

I've already mentioned how my spirituality plays into my writing. I do believe there is a God, but I also respect that others don't.

So comments are open. I think we can talk about this in an adult and calm fashion. I don't want anyone attacking anyone else over their beliefs. And if you'd like to be anonymous, feel free.

Testing Yourself

Despite all of the outside validation, ten years ago I didn’t feel like a writer. I felt like I lacked certain experience, but I couldn’t figure out what I needed. More rejection? Maybe I needed more doubt.

Silly, but I’ve always been skeptical about writers who experience early success. Would they still write if they didn’t have encouragement? If critics hated their work, would they continue to write?

I didn’t know if I would be able to withstand rejection. Sometimes, over the past ten years, I’ve purposely looked for rejection. I’ve set myself up for failure as a test.

Do you have doubts about your work?
Have you ever tested yourself?

Replenishing

Ten years ago, I made a decision to heal my creativity. It felt like the flow just wasn't there. The river was in past time, my perspective had changed and it needed to be brought into the present.

I remember that my creative rehab became the sole focus for a while It began with meditation and visualization healing work. I dug deep and addressed some wounds that I had sustained. I read (and did) Julia Cameron's The Artist Way. I painted, wove poetry and collaged my fears and blocks.

After that, I made a decision to look at my scrutinize my life. I wrote my life story, looked at past interactions, and discovered patterns that were making me unhappy.

When I finished with all of that, I surfed an unforgettable wave of creativity. I also experienced a profound sense of peace.

Ten years is a long time, and much has happened between then and now. I finished a major project exactly a year ago. It felt like an ending; a form of expression was finished.

Now, it's time again. Time for a creative rehabilitation. Time to look at what my relationship is with writing, to re-own my creativity. Its time to assess the past decade as well, to assign meaning to what's taken place.

As my spine undergoes its daily realignment at the chiropractor, so must everything else I guess. That's probably what Louise Hay would say. The physical is merely a symptom of the emotional, mental and spiritual.

So that's my writing project, for the time being. I do have the urge to start new projects, but I'm afraid that I'll simply be going to the same old well again.

What do you do to replenish your creativity?

On writing violence

Whenever a theater person gets into serious trouble, Jethro is always quick to tell me about it. Usually his email will give me the straight up news, followed by something like, "What's going on with theater people????"

He did it with the Alabama church fires, and it did it again today.

Still, I didn't want to be the first to this bring this up. Isaac did. Dan Trujillo wrote about it as well. So now I feel like I can mention it.

As a writer, I regularly explore areas in my psyche that I would never actually want to manifest. I may write about a killer, for instance. That doesn't mean I want to murder. For those who believe art is cathartic, writing about such things could be a sign of health.

On the other hand, there is a relationship between the writer and what's being written. I wrote some heavy-handed suicidal poems when I was younger; it was far more realistic than I'd care to admit. Undoubtedly, if I did something ugly back then, people would've pointed a finger at my work.

But there's a difference between exploring the shadow and planning out violent fantasies via theater.

I've had long periods of writing about rage, pain and hurt and I'd like to think I'm a healthier person for doing it.

However, as a playwright I'm mapping out an experience for the actors to share with an audience. Therefore, I have to think about other people. Will they want to take the ride with me? What are they going to get out of it? Is it going to leave them feeling disgusted with themselves? With humanity? With life in general?

I'm not saying there are right answers to these questions. I'm only saying that they're worthy of consideration, especially when dealing with shadow material.

Regarding the killer's work, I'll say this: I have no plans on reading it. Writing is not only about words; it has everything to do with energy. Even as I write this entry, I'm conveying meaning on a variety of different levels. The best writers are conscious of these levels and can work within them. The rest still work with it, but they usually end up exposing or sabotaging themselves. Sort of like a subliminal message of sorts.

A well-known serial killer could write a happy song, and I'd still be creeped out. I suspect that you'd be weirded out as well. You may not know why, but you'd feel it anyway.

So while his work might've been disturbing, I'm willing to bet that people picked up on the subliminal stuff. A happy kid could've written a violent story, and no one would've thought a whole lot about it, other than "Gee, I wonder where that came from."

It's not the topic, it's about energy and intention. Unfortunately, we don't work within a subtle culture. Everything is literal. It makes me wonder how many other writers will now be castigated for choosing unpleasant topics. Quite a few, I bet.

For All the Writers Out There

I feel *clean* after finishing a writing project. That's the best word for it. Clean.

Though I wouldn't call the writing a purge. I don't know what I'd call it.

So I ask you: What's the feeling you get after finishing a writing project? Is it a clean feeling? Peaceful? Anxious?

Undone

Thumbing through my writing projects, I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I died. That’s not a morbid thought. It’s actually quite practical. While my papers are gathered, they’re not exactly organized. There’s no meaning to any of the data.

I don’t know if anyone would be able to figure anything out.

As well, I’ve got projects that are in various states of completion. I have no sense of closure on certain themes, and therefore, I can’t move forward. I need closure.

The curious aspect to all this is that my state of completion largely depends on what form the project was written.

For the most part, my poetry is completed. When I write poetry, I’m intensely focused. Very little time lapses between drafts. I do have folders of fragments, but that’s to be expected. Once a poem is complete, I have no desire to reopen it.

The same goes for my articles. Once an article is published, it’s in cement. No point in going backward.

My book drafts are clearly marked. Enough on that for now.

What is surprising is how little closure I have on my plays. It seems that there’s so much that has yet to be explored, so I really can’t put closure on projects. I don’t know if these projects need productions, or maybe I haven’t learned what I was looking to learn from them.

There was a reason why I wrote those plays, but I haven’t figured it out yet. But there is something to learn…

A few weeks ago, my intuition has directed me back to the plays. In particular, there are four of them that want my attention.

Going back to the plays wasn’t in my plan. Jethro has read most of my plays and wishes I would do something with them. My plan was to do nothing.

But if I was really honest, I would tell you that very seldom have I ever put effort into finding the “right people” to work with. I’ve also moved around a bit, which makes it hard to develop relationships. And theater thrives on relationships.

I think the reason I have no closure on this work is because I’ve needed to involve other people in it. I could take it only so far on my own. Nothing is in cement because it is, essentially, undone. I’m aware it could be worked on and improved. Until I’m in a position to do that, I can only take it so far on my own.

That’s the nature of theater… That’s the difference between plays, books, articles and poems.

The lack of closure nags at me.

Cyclically Speaking

For me, writing is cyclical. There’s a time for tremendous output, which is then followed by a time for contemplation. During such time, I read more and write less.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve felt the urge to pick up my paintbrush again. Deep inside, I’ve long suspected that I’m more of a painter than a writer. Painting was an important aspect of creativity back during my three year writing block.

I loved being able to share a vision instead of just a thought.

My desire to pick up my paintbrush again has to do with the idea that there are some things that shouldn’t be expressed through words. Secret knowledge should remain hidden to those who aren’t observant.

More and more, I’ve considered the past seven years to be a kind of aberration. It’s nice to have room to create now, without the influence of the "other".

Got fragments?

It's an odd process. I didn't realize that this is how I write.

It's like this: I spend years writing fragments. Then one day, for no particular reason, I'll start piecing the fragments together.

When I wrote the fragments, I didn't think of placing them in a larger work. There was no intent, other than writing in the moment.

These fragments are a jigsaw puzzle. I usually have to edit the passages a bit, but it's as if I had it in my mind all along. This is how it's going to turn out. Except I didn't know it until I strung the fragments together.

I suppose that's the way it is with life as well. Each experience is part of a larger body of work, even if I didn't know it at the time.

Freelance Poets

My fiance tells me that there is no such thing as a "freelance poet."

How did we get on this topic? He is a writer/editor. In the past, he's had to deal with the public, including those who describe themselves as "freelance poets."

Since I've done my share of hanging out at poetry readings, I know pretentiousness and irrelevancy firsthand. Not to say that poetry itself is that way. Many of my dead mentors have been poets, including T.S. Eliot, Kerouac, and a number of Buddhist monks. Still, some of my favorite blowhard writer stereotypes come from hanging out in the poetry circuit.

So is there such a thing as a "freelance poet"? He says no. And because he says no, I say yes. Someone out there being hired as an independent contractor, writing poetry for a small magazine. It may not be the Saturday Evening Post, but it provides a coffee allowance.

Then again, maybe the term "freelance poet" is redundant. After all, how many poets are hired for that type of work. We don't call screenwriters, "freelance screenwriters", do we?

Is there such a thing as a "freelance poet"? What do you think?