When I lived inVancouverI took a semester on autobiographical writing in 2004. One advice that stuck with me from the teacher was the importance of the writer taking care of their body in the process of digging up the bones of the past. I particularly like the word exhume because of the origin of “hume” coming from humus or earth. Our bodies are like the earth that stores everything. When a writer exhumes the buried memories of the past there is a literal tearing up of the grounds that we stand on.

There are elements of exhuming the past when writing about fiction also. Though a story may not be specifically about me, it is about someone else who is going through or has experienced the elements of the story. The phrase “our biography is our biology” is something I read in a book by Caroline Myss. It was only last year I read her book “Why People Don’t Heal and How They Can”; and it has been over 8 years ago that I took that course on autobiographical writing. There is a truth that both teacher and healer are connected to: We are a sum of all the smaller parts ~ like the calculus course I took in university of integration and derivation.  The findings of both metaphysics and the hard sciences mathematics and physics/biology/chemistry and their offshoots are beginning to converge.  Each generation of scientist and mathematicians are creating better and more sophisticated tools to measure the universe.  We are the sum of the physical, the mental and spiritual composites.

The advice to take care of my body when exhuming the past hit me hard and fast yesterday while I was at work. I had to excuse myself early because I felt ill. My body had slowed down to almost a faint heartbeat, figuratively speaking. I wanted to throw up. I couldn’t eat. My bowels were sluggish. I’m generally a fit and healthy person, and so the state I was in scared me a little. I went home and slept for hours hoping my nerves would calm down. In a relaxed state then maybe my internal systems will start to function normally.

What created this state of chaotic deadness? Well it was a series of events that began with reading “The Heroine’s Journey” by Murdoch. (I don’t want to do the book injustice by summing its message into one or two sentences because it contains so much wisdom.) I was taking a journey with the heroine in my play “Original Sin”, without separating the me from the we. I had dreams of diving into the water and my legs entangled in the snake like arms of giant kelps; I was drawn to stories in the news of women enduring assaults, particularly those exposed by Eve Ensler in the Democratic Republic of Congo.   (See the end of the blog for excerpt of short interviews with 7 victims of rape in DRC in 2008.)

The introduction of the book describes an interview Murdock had with mythologist, Joseph Campbell.

My desire to understand how the woman’s journey relates to the journey of the hero first led me talk with Joseph Campbell in 1981.  I knew that the stages of the heroine’s journey incorporated aspects of the journey of the hero, but I felt that the focus of female spiritual development was to heal the internal split between woman and her feminine nature… I was surprised when he responded that women don’t need to make the journey. “In the whole mythological tradition the woman is there. All she has to do is to realize that she’s the place that people are trying to get to. When a woman realizes what her wonderful character is, she not going to get messed up wit the notion of being pseudo-male.” – Excerpt from “The Heroine’s Journey” by Maureen Murdock

In each chapter of the book Murdock describes in detail the experience of the cycles of the heroine’s journey. In doing my research for the play I think I was in the phase of “Initiation and Descent to the Goddess”.

 Reproduced from the book “The Heroine’s Journey” by Maureen Murdock

The characteristics of this phase involves heaviness like moving through mud with boots that are loose at the ankles. It’s like diving to the bottom of the ocean to retrieve a lost treasure. The deeper we go the more pressure weighs down upon us. As explained by Murdock, most people find it hard to sustain bearing the weight, and the instinct is to resurface. Without the guidance of someone who’s been there before then the novice treasure hunter will quit, perhaps to never return to that place; and never to heal the rift between the self and the feminine.

A woman moves down into the depths to reclaim the parts of herself that split off when she rejected the mother and shattered mirror of the feminine. To make the journey a woman puts aside her fascination with the intellect and games of the cultural mind, and acquaints herself, perhaps for the first time with her body, her emotions, her sexuality, her intuition, her images, her values and her mind. This is what we find in the depths. – Excerpt from “The Heroine’s Journey” by Maureen Murdock

The premise of “Original Sin” is broadly defined to be the separation from the self that is created by the indoctrination of the man-made organizations and hierarchy in a world that is mostly ordered by patriarchy. If we agree with Joseph Campbell that the woman’s mythic journey is not a journey but “the place that people are trying to get to” then I’m feeling more confident that I can find a story that will resonate truth in both men and women.

The healer, the teacher, the playwright and the artist are crying out to respect the feminine that live in all of us.  There is a call to respect mother nature because the womb of the earth and our mothers are our sources of physical origin.  When we separate from the feminine then we lose respect for our origin thus creating a separation from the self and from others and the outcome is a rape of the land and violence towards each other.  In exhuming our past with wisdom then we have the hope of healing and breaking down walls that separate.  Desmond Tutu used the word ubuntu to describe the unity of human kind.  It translates to “me-we”.

-Analyn Revilla

Excerpt of interviews from Democracy Now!  with survivors of sexual violence in the DRC.

In 2008, V-Day worked with UNICEF to organize events in the DRC, where survivors of sexual violence publicly spoke out against violence and about their experiences for the first time. Seven women told their stories in front of community members and government and U.N. officials.

SURVIVOR 1: [translated] When they took my husband and hit him and tied him and tortured him and took him I don’t know where, they went and killed him wherever they had taken him. And then all seven men raped me. Then the neighbors heard what happened and found me unconscious. They looked at me and saw all my insides outside of my body.

SURVIVOR 2: [translated] They started taking the clothes off my children, and I told them, “Please, excuse me, you can’t do that. Instead of raping my children while I watch, just kill me first.”

SURVIVOR 3: [translated] A woman is supposed to be respected. We are not objects. Women get pregnant and breast-feed you. How come you disrespect me today in public?

SURVIVOR 4: [translated] The authorities of this country, how do you look at this rape issue and remain silent?

SURVIVOR 1: [translated] We are suffering because of rape. Rape should stop. It must stop.

SURVIVOR 5: [translated] I am speaking so that women who are hiding and others who have AIDS can come out, so they can be taught how to live.

How do artists face set backs?  By creating, using their imagination and desire to create.  I think that’s the nature of an artist anyhow regardless of whether or not the she is sailing a calm sea with the sails full and the prow pointing closer and closer to her destination; or ferocious winds and choppy waves threaten to sink her ship of dreams – the artist will prevail until she has exhausted all possibilities . 

 A film maker,  I know, is working on his third short film.  It is his biggest project to date and he has poured all of his energy and talent into realizing his dream.   I helped out on the first day of filming, and I recognized the auspiciousness of the event, because he had shared with me the setbacks he had faced on his ongoing journey.  He was financing the whole thing, and there had been multiple delays and each one was adding more cost to the production.

The first setback was a fraud by a contractor he hired to build the set.  Dave paid a down payment with a check.  A few days before the beginning of the  first day of shooting the man called Dave and asked for another check.  He explained that the first check Dave wrote was post dated, neither men  had not noticed the mistake.  Dave gave the man another check, unaware that the first check had already been deposited and the bank had cleared it – despite the post date.   The contractor was now paid in full, but a set had not yet been built.  With the close proximity of the first day of the shoot, Dave had to cancel everything, and file a small claims court to get his money back. 

 A week later Dave told me he had reworked his plan.  He got a loan from the bank, found a new location, a new crew to build the set, created a new schedule.  He looked hopeful and happy; and I was excited for him.  I got in touch with his producer to find out how I can chip in with the purpose of learning and contributing to the process.  My first contribution was to bring coffee for the crew of 16 people.  Friday night, at the figurative “11th hour” there was a phone call from the main lead actor, the night before the first day of the shoot.  The lead actor told Dave that he’s pulling out of the movie, because he got a better offer for a bigger part for another opportunity.  What makes it more bizarre is he called at 11 o’clock at night so it was literally the “11th hour”.  Do people really do  that? I wondered, then upon further thought I decided that this sort of thing DOES happen.   People have been stood up at the altar while guests and family  wonder when the ceremony is going to start.

 I told Dave that it seems when we’re on the right path the gods have this funny way of testing us to see if he was  worthy of the hero’s journey.   They had thrown obstacles in his way to test his will, his resourcefulness, his faith.  Whether or not those words helped him pick himself up and step further into unknown, and probably treacherous territory. 

 Within days another actor was hired; further adjustments were made to the schedule, and finally, yes finally we were on the set.  It was well designed for the film noir genre set in the 40’s.  The space is a renovated warehouse in the San Pedro district.  The makeup artist and the costume designer had set up a make shift office in one of the restrooms.  The other restroom had to be shared by both men and women.  We didn’t care.  We were happy to just be present and to play and create.  Everyone was chipping in to make it happen.  I discovered I have the mechanical skill to adjust the chain links of an old fashioned wristwatch.  “Technical” and “mechanical” tasks had always daunted me, because I’m like a bull in a china shop when it comes to those things but I was fearless this time.  I tacked the task and was able to fit the fake gold watch on the leading actor’s fine-boned wrist.

 The set was ready, the makeup was flawless and the hair was coiffed.  The actors were taped up with the mikes and then Dave let everyone know that he doesn’t use the word “action”.  He doesn’t like the word, because… he never did explain; but just said he’ll say ‘go’. 

 ‘Go’ it went.  After a few rehearsals the camera rolled.  I observed Dave’s style as he communicated clearly without hesitation the what and the how of the scenes to everyone.  It was as if he had played the situation in his head a million times over and he can detect the minute differences between his vision and what he saw played out.  He made adjustments quickly then moved on.   

Later in the evening I got home from a walk with the dog; there was a voicemail from Dave.  He said, ‘don’t know if you heard, but we got shut down today.  The production has been stopped because the Fire Marshal said the building is not up to code.”  Questions fired in my head, but I held them in check as I listened to Dave lament the situation.  How can he go on?   What more can be thrown into this pyre of drama?  While he talked I wondered what consolation can I offer Dave and to encourage him to go on.  Even I was at a loss, and dumbfounded with his news. 

Though he was willing to buy the fire permit (a cost of $700) it would be moot, because the building is on a fire watch.  The other alternative to continue filming in the same location is to pay the city $65 per hour to have a Fire Marshall present during the entire production.  He couldn’t afford it.

 I could only advice him not to make any decisions without giving himself a chance to rest.  Sleep on it I told him.  We drew out the conversation between regaling the previous setbacks and this new one.  As we hashed out the events I began to hear him speak of new ideas, though woven in and out of the hope were some voices of doubt, fear and fatigue.  Before we hung up he had spoken powerful words:  “I know I can do this.”  “There were some amazing footages I can use.”  “Did you see the amazing footages?”  “It’s a great feeling to see everyone pour themselves into this.”   I know that those words has been planted in his subconscious which will help him go on. 

His journey in itself is the worthy of a good drama full of surreal images like a strange dream.  Where did all these people come from and what does it mean?  Who invited these ghosts, monsters, angels and fairies?  The gods have a way of insinuating a fuller drama into the situation by putting the hero into more peril than he had ever imagined.  It’s perhaps their way of bringing out the best creation from the artist.

The ICWP list posted this. Many of you may have seen the 2009 Marsha Norman essay:

http://www.tcg.org/publications/at/nov09/women.cfm

But it’s worth looking at again.

And if anybody is working on a rewrite, check out Paul Simon’s new tune REWRITE. It will keep you going.

I have a problem with one of my plays. I keep submitting The Last Of The Daytons to contests and theaters. I’ve been doing it for a long time. It has been an ATHE finalist, a semi-finalist at the O’Neill and Ashland. It has had many nibbles but no bites. Recently, Luna Stage asked to see a rewrite but then rejected it.

Because I love the play, I’ve always thought that I just haven’t found the right place for it yet. I know the story. I know the characters. I know how they talk and feel. I’ve been with them now for years and have seen them change and grow with each draft. The draft I send out now must be the sixth or seventh. Or eighth.

I thought for a while that the nature of the characters was the problem. The people could be considered out of the ordinary but many of us are out of the ordinary. I think it was John Steinbeck who, when told that his characters were too eccentric to be real, said that the disbelievers had probably not taken the time to get to know their neighbors.

(This an aside but one hard to resist. Stephen King, in his excellent book, On Writing, talks about a man he worked for who had two hooks for hands. He would put one hook in cold water and one in hot, then clamp them on someone’s neck.)

I recently received a thoughtful critique from readers at the Women’s Work Festival at White Rooster Productions in St. John’s, Newfoundland, Canada, which they gave me permission to quote.

They didn’t have a problem with the characters.

“I like the characters in this play, they are very normal in their abnormality (talking to invisible friends, escaping from hospitals in their pajamas, etc) and that works well.”

What did disturb them was the tone. “I started out reading it as a comedy (perhaps not what you were going for?) but the climax turned violent.” It read like two plays that aren’t melding comfortably together and they thought that I should think about the tone. “Perhaps addressing the tone in the beginning and aiming towards the darker shades would be beneficial.”

Could the tone have been the problem for other readers as well?

The Co-Artistic Director, Ruth Lawrence, who is also playwright, suggested that the tone is important to tackle because “tone isn’t something you can explain to your readers. It is there on the page, not in your intentions. Especially to cold readers.”

I’m wondering how to do address this. I’ve done three staged readings and think, having seen them, that the tone remains consistent and that the end of the play is prepared for in the first two scenes – a search for a father who is never talked about and a dark note about a death in the Gulf War.

I’ll reread the play again carefully. But if I still think that the tone is consistent and the plot clear, what do I do when I send it out again? Do I add a note? A prologue? Should I keep sending it out? I have a DVD that I have offered to send along with submissions but so far, nobody has asked to see it. As a reader myself, I know that it takes time and effort to give the submissions the consideration they deserve and a DVD may just too much. (I’ll also have another look at the DVD myself.)

I’m very grateful to the White Rooster for giving me some insight into why The Last of the Daytons has always been a bridesmaid and never a bride.  If anybody out there has any ideas or has struggled with this problem, I would love to hear from them.

I would like to see this play off on a honeymoon.

I had dreams.

Even though I’d read all the articles that assured me that creating something is a reward in itself, even though I knew I should bask in the glory of bringing life to the blank page, even though I’d been told over and over that looking at the finished work and finding it good is all a writer needs to be fulfilled, even though that Satisfaction is The Pinnacle; I was not convinced.

My heart beat with the hope that the finished work would bring joy to more than me. All the hours I’d sat in front of the computer would touch the lives of others. My play would be produced. Yes!  It would be produced in a big theater with lavish sets and costumes, brought to life by a director whose profound understanding of the work had been communicated to protean actors who every night and at matinees would speak my speech trippingly on the tongue. There would be huzzahs!

I would be in the theatre.

Now, I would just like to get to the theater.

I work until 6:30 pm and live in the Westside. Do you think I can get to a theatre in Noho on a weekend evening? One night a few Fridays ago, I tried to get to Peace In Our Time at the Antaeus Theatre.

My husband and I hopped into the car at 6:35 and looked at the 10 East on the computer. It was  solid red. We decided to take Sunset Boulevard and zipped along until we reached Kenter Blvd. Then we stopped. At 7:45, we hadn’t reached the 405 and sat, not moving, listening to KPCC. Our GPS (a girl named Olive who is very knowledgeable but who has trouble pronouncing street names) repeated that we were on the fastest route but wouldn’t get to theater until 9:05.

Finally, we called the Box Office, cancelled our tickets and turned (not an easy thing to do) for home.

The next week, a friend said that he had comp tickets for As I Like It at the Macha in West Hollywood. Could I join him? It was a Thursday evening. Surely, I could get to King’s Road in an hour and a half. At 8:35, I arrived. The door to the theater was locked. I banged on it (discreetly but persistently) and a very nice person showed me the door to the balcony. It was a short play and I was back down in the lobby not long after a found a seat.

At Theatre Palisades, the pre show talk in the lobby is not about the drumbeat for war, the fifty million without health insurance, the Lakers.  Magic words are whispered – La Brea, Topanga Canyon, the McClure tunnel. People sink exhausted onto the lobby benches, murmuring, “There were three accidents on the 10.” “I had to detour at Sepulveda.” “I’ll never do this again.”

Actors call. “There’s been a fender bender at Vermont. Please tell the stage manager.”

On summer Sunday matinees, we provide the customers coming up from Long Beach with cold compresses and Aleve.

I really shouldn’t complain. There are lots of good theaters on the Westside – Theatricum Botanicum, The Odyssey, the Edgemar, the Pico Playhouse, The Garage, the Morgan-Wixson, the Ruskin. This Friday, I saw A.R. Gurney’s The Dining Room at the 3rd Street Promenade Theatre in Santa Monica and it was great fun, beautifully directed and acted and full of good surprises.

Truly, I don’t know why I’m ranting. I could stop eating for a couple of weeks and buy a ticket to Beth Henley’s new play at the Geffen. (But that’s another blog.)