The past three months have been about a lot of things other than writing for me. All good things: a lot of data collection, promoting Shout!, actually enjoying a summer. (The problem with enjoying a summer is that you start to get rather panicky when it starts to disappear…) But writing has definitely taken a back seat. So, it’s time to get on the horse again.
In September, I’m doing a 30 Days of Development Project. Write, Submit, Post every day for 30 days. No misses, no excuses, nothing but net.
Sounds easy? Well, I’ve done a writing binge, and a submission binge before, just not together. And there’s many, many distractions in a day. And the weekends aren’t off limits either. And I’m going to two conferences in September, gotta find time to write and submit there too.
I have two workshops planned for November and this will be a great recharge as I take my publishers hat off and put my writers hat back on.
Check back here tomorrow, for the first post!
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I am currently reading Life of pi by Yann Martel. The opening establishes how the writer went off to India to try and finish a book, and it just wasn’t happening - great characters, wonderful story, no spark. He describes the realization as ’something soul-destroying.’ And then he mails the failed manuscript to a fictional address in Siberia.
All writers: novelists, poets, playwrights, we all know the feeling well. You’ve done the work, you know how to do the work. There’s no disputing that work is or is not being done. You’ve created the characters exactly as they should be created. You have a complex and detailed plot, no one is saying that you haven’t done the work! And yet….. it’s the part of writing you can’t manufacture. You can’t explain it. You can’t bottle it. You know when it’s there and you know when it’s not. The spark.
It’s a horrifying feeling to realize the absence of spark. It is soul-destroying. You try to ignore it, deny it, pin one together from odd socks and leftover buttons and say, ‘See! It’s there! See how pretty it is?’
I have one play that I’ve been working on, off and on, for three years. I love the characters. I love the complicity of the plot. I think it’s something special. And it just won’t gel. It won’t come together. It lacks spark.
Sigh.
I’ve carried this play with me on several trips this summer because I thought, maybe, I’d be inspired. No such luck. The pages are worn. Notes scrawled on every page. Slash marks, visions, wonderful ideas, oh so many ideas. One of these days I’m going to have to gather my notes and mail them to Siberia. Because, really, there’s only so long I can flick my Bic and get nothing….
The great satirical magazine The Onion printed a cute little piece about a dinner theatre changing the text of Death of a Salesman.
One of the first questions people ask when I say I’m a writer is, “Have you written anything I’ve seen?” Which is a RIDICULOUS question, because the answer is always, “No.” It’d be a no for the majority of writers. It’s our celebrity society which makes them ask, because if they’ve seen it that means I must be popular and therefore good. Again, ridiculous.
I know, I know, they don’t know any better, they’re just trying to initiate conversation, they’re just trying to have an interest in my out-of-the-ordinary line of work. I know. It used to humiliate me to no end, though. For a time I just couldn’t cop to being a writer. ‘Cause I was trying to be popular (and therefore, good) and failing so so badly. Now, I could give a crap because there’s no way the person asking has seen anything I’ve done because everything I do is done in schools. And I announce that fact quite proudly.
The second question I sometimes get is, “Don’t you want to go to Hollywood and be a screenwriter?” I had an optometrist ask me this question with a gleam of sun and movie stars in his eyes. This one makes me hoot like a thing that hoots a lot. Because it’s even more ridiculous than the first question. The person who asks that is someone who has no idea what a bottom feeder soul-sucking cow-towing time consuming life a screenwriter has. I paraphrase, but still.
The life of a Hollywood writer is quite a specific task and there are those who enjoy it and do it well. You can live really well and still be a writer. I am not, and would never be one of those people. My skin is not thick enough. I don’t take it kindly when someone who knows nothing about writing tells me to change this or that or, well, the whole damn thing. I can’t write what other people want, I can only write what I want.
I spent one year as a writer for a crappy Canadian TVshow. Not even a real show, a medical talk show that showed up at six in the morning on the higher reaching cable channels. It just about killed me and is responsible for my lingering Diet Coke habit. I still wake up with the shakes.
Jon Robin Baitz is a New York playwright who created the show Brothers and Sisters. He tried to bring craft, character, interesting storylines that involve people over thirty to the show. This article in The Huffington Post is about how he had to give up the ghost and walk away.
Reading the article just solidified it all for me. (Life, The Universe and Everything!) I may be poorer and I may never be able to answer the question, “Have you written anything I’ve seen?” but I’m happy in my corner of the world. And I can never regret it, and I can never look over the fence to see if the grass is greener. This is where I belong.
The Decision Process
There’s nothing like the moment when a director finds their next project. Or the first project, the one that sings and creates visions and gives you the ability to see the play come to life. The one that makes your brain buzz and you realize, “Hey, I want to direct.” All well and good. But there are more factors than a buzz in the brain when it comes to picking a play for high schools. Read More.
Analyzing The Script
The script is chosen! What next? All forms of play from the breeziest comedy to the absurd modern to the traditional classic benefit from some level of analysis. It can help even if you feel you’re strictly a rehearsal director. Because, in the high school play, the director has to be the ‘one in the know.’ That’s really what I mean by analysis - becoming the one who ‘knows’ the script inside out and backwards. In the professional world there are dramturgs to do research, there are motivated actors who study their characters, there are stage managers to list the props. Read More.
The Vision
Directors need to have a vision for the play. That means ALL directors: professional, community, high school, etc. Why is it important to have a vision? Because then the play has a unifying factor. It gives the play a drive, a look, a tone. Having a vision can bring clarity to a not so clear play. It helps students focus on the bigger picture. It adds to the overall experience. A vision gives a director purpose; it’s the creative element the director brings to the table. And quite frankly, it’s fun. Read More.
Pre-Blocking
When I direct, I always go through each scene to come up with some instinctual blocking. How do I see the play unfolding in my head? It forces me to think out the play, to see if I can solve some issues before rehearsals even start. Read More.
Dealing With Designers
In the professional world, there could be a different person each in charge of lighting, sound, set, and costumes. At the high school level, the only designer in the place will often be you, yourself and let me think… you! This is one place that having a vision is really helpful. It makes design decisions so much easier, especially if you’re the one who has to come up with them. If your vision is defined by the five senses, you have instant lead ins to your set, costume, lights and sound. Read More.
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