Join us for our second SWAN Day Action Fest this Saturday, 28 March from 12 – 6 pm at City Garage Theatre!
https://lafpi.com/events/ Presented by Free Association Theatre with Los Angeles Female Playwrights Initiative, hosted by City Garage Theatre at
Bergamot Station Arts Center
2525 Michigan Ave., Building T1, Santa Monica, CA 90404
( off of Cloverfield Blvd., between Olympic Blvd. & 10 Freeway)Free Parking in Bergamot Station Arts Center. The complex opens at 11 a.m. on Saturdays. SWAN Day Action Fest audiences are encouraged to arrive early, and come and go throughout the day to visit the many art galleries.
Hope to see you there!
On Writing and Sadness Bouts, Part 2.
Carrying on from Part I…
There’s a good amount of evidence to suggest that creative people may be predisposed to have depression or depressive tendencies.
I have a theory about this – I don’t necessarily think we’re all predisposed. But I think the actual, repeated practice of creating and sharing our art can make our emotions go haywire.
In two ways –
- The Process: The same instinct that makes us good writers – the ability to self-edit, to sift, to weed out the bad ideas from the good, in short, to critique – is what can also make writing so painful. Because as we write, our inner editor is chomping on the bit to tell us how this draft is terrible, how this idea is pointless, how no one will ever want to do this, how it’s a waste of our time and (let’s take this to the logical end) how we’re a fraud and will never write anything good ever again. We all hear this nasty voice in our head from time to time – the trick of course, is to rein it in, to allow just the right amount of self-critique into our process, perfectly calibrated to the needs of that particular draft.But wow, that’s a really hard thing to ask of ourselves, isn’t it? And in addition, the madness inside our heads isn’t caused by anything we could call “real”. We’re miserable because we can’t figure out the solutions to problems that we made up for characters and situations that don’t exist. It’s hella weird.
- The Production: So as playwrights, we deeply care about our audiences. We write a play as a gift to be shared – not just with our collaborators, but with living, breathing human beings who gather in a room together, who’ve plonked down money and found babysitters and driven out and given up their evening to spend with our stories. So we really care about them.In speaking just for myself, the audience is always top of my mind, from the first draft through to opening night. Yes, it’s important that I’m happy, that my artistic team is happy, but by god, I really want the audience to be happy. I want them to have such a good time in the theatre. The fact that I care so much is one of my strengths, and it shows in my writing.
But once the production is up and running, I can’t turn this off. So when the reviews are out, I’m setting myself up to be a complete emotional mess. Sarah Ruhl recently said, so easily, that she doesn’t read anything written about herself. Lauren Gunderson has said she only reads the good reviews. I wish I could pick either lane. But no – I can’t turn off that instinct to care about what people think, even at the stage where I have no power to change anything, even if I wanted to. That’s not healthy.
So basically, my theory is that both the inside of playwriting (the process), and the outside of it (collaboration and reception) are fraught with triggers. And ironically, the further I progress in my career, the more frequently I face these triggers, and with higher stakes each time.
- The more I learn about playwriting, the more plays I write and see, the harsher my inner-critic gets, because now I know better, and I know what I’m up against.
- Commissions are the best, but they bring out my inner-critic in full force, because now there’s that additional, awful fear of letting someone down.
- The more production opportunities I get, the more reviews I’ll get, and the more people will have things to say about my work. Google will be my nemesis forever.
I know that I should hopefully arrive at a sort of equilibrium at some point. As I mature as a writer, I’ll be able to tamper that inner voice. The more I recognize my process, my patterns, the less I’ll freak out when I think something isn’t going well. And maybe one day I’ll achieve Sarah Ruhl levels of poise where I exist in a transcendent bubble of perfection (I love Sarah Ruhl, this is me being totally straight with you. Also, she’s never gonna read this.)
But until then, I would love to hear from LAFPI readers on how you manage these issues, and what tricks you have to get around these emotional speed bumps, these exhausting obstacles as we all try to navigate a happy, balanced, and productive life in the theatre.
On Writing and Sadness Bouts, Part 1.
Hello, LAFPI readers! I hope you all had a lovely weekend.
For my first post this week, I wanted to talk about writers and depression (isn’t that an auspicious beginning.) Mostly because I had read Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s amazing op-ed in The Guardian about her journey with depression, and it’s been rattling around in my head for several weeks now.
So I had no idea about the kerfuffle that ensued after I had read that piece – apparently it was published without Adichie’s permission, which is just awful on so many levels, and was retracted from the website. However, she did then give this wonderful interview to the blog Olisa.tv, about the article and its ramifications, and I would highly recommend reading it.
The thing that I’ve been trying to figure out about her article was actually my own reaction to it. It was the question that popped up – why is she depressed? To put it far more crudely – what does she have to be depressed about? Adichie is one of our greatest living writers, beloved around the world, achieving incredible success in a field that’s notoriously hard to break into, especially for women of color.
I also had a similar reaction when I read this piece in the New Yorker a few years ago – about therapy for working (and often consistently working, i.e. successful) screenwriters. What do they have to complain about?
It’s a terrible attitude, and one that I turn on myself too. I thankfully do not suffer from clinical depression or similar chronic health conditions, but I do get sad sometimes. When I am sad, I feel absolutely powerless. The same question surfaces – what do you have to complain about? – but even as I intellectually understand what it means, engaging with the question does nothing to affect my mood. If anything, it makes me feel worse. Most of the time these bouts last for a few days at most, and then I’m fine. But last month, my ‘bout’ lasted three weeks, and it was awful. It also came at a time when I was on vacation, in my parents’ home in India, with all my needs taken care of and all my wants attended to by my loving family. The incongruity of my feelings with my actual situation was almost too much to bear.
I’m back in a good place now, but what those weeks gave me was (hopefully) a permanent shifting of my perspective, a good dose of empathy. Being sad is scary. It’s lonely. Most of the time, it’s beyond our control. The absolute wrong thing to do is to question the validity of someone’s experiences because you think they shouldn’t be feeling a certain way. How ridiculous!
Upon looking back, I have found that my sadness bouts are usually intimately tied to my writing process, and to the struggles of crafting a career as a playwright. I think a lot of readers of this blog may feel or have felt the same way. For my next post, I’ll be writing more about the unique challenges of controlling our emotions, when paradoxically, our lives as playwrights require us to be open, receptive and porous to the world and everything that it throws at us.
In the meantime, be sure to read the Adichie interview! She’s amazing. And I would love to hear your thoughts on this topic in the comments – it’s a tricky subject and I’m always open to learning more and understanding these issues in a better way.
Time For Labor
They were gorgeous and exhilarating at first blush, at conception. Gave me pains and pissy-ness shortly afterward. They took a long time to grow, yet often blossomed overnight. They were my engine fuel, my mood enhancers, and a physical testament to my ability to persevere. My plays were my babies. Before I birthed a human.
Now I split my nurturing, my guidance, my anxiety, my mania, and of course my time. And, necessarily, not evenly. And, indeed, my old, occasionally elusive though fundamentally trusty comrade Productivity has often taken a shocking dip in the pool of not-quite, as a result.
Although it’s quite obvious and quite wonderful where the priority lies (and I’d have it no other way), I often wish it were easier to take optimal care of both, babe and play. Simpler – and I know this is just me – I wish there was more time. But, shock, there isn’t. Which leaves me with, only really, the promise of reconfiguration.
Reflecting recently on the rhythms of labor and my son’s journey into this sphere, I recalled successive waves of intense — no, cataclysmic stabbing, shuffling, and churning, punctuated by small periods of what I’ll call alternative otherworldly activity. This has led me to consider that, perhaps, these need be the new rhythms of my life now, of my writing: Bursts of activity, productivity, intense, chaotic, but consistent, controlled—and short, spread out over the day. The rhythms of birth over and over again, every day. Really feeling the work, in order to deliver it.
Although it’s a little more touchy-feely a thing for me, this way of working, more or less, has often been credited to Francesco Cirillo, and this recent post from a blog called “The Write Life” does a nice job of outlining his Pomodoro technique, which I’ve tried (casually) before, in my pre-maternity days. But I’ll be bringing so much more to those bursts today.
To anyone having difficulty finding the time to write, whether parenting in the conventional sense or not, you might give it a go.
The Self Production Series with Anna Nicholas: # 8 AEA and the Future of Self-Production in LA
# 8. AEA and the Future of Self-Production in LA
by Guest Blogger Anna Nicholas
This week’s post was supposed to be about casting directors but if a proposal made by Actors Equity Association (AEA) goes through at the end of this month, LA’s Theatre landscape will likely be irrevocably altered. The 99-seat plan, which has been around for about 30 years, will cease to exist. As an ever-emerging playwright with a law degree (don’t ask) and a predisposition toward full disclosure, you should know at the onset, I’m opposed to the proposal. And while there’s still time to influence voters, I’m postponing the casting installment in favor of outlining how proposed changes might affect you, the self-producing playwright, and what you can do about it. Get your latte, medical MJ, kombucha or what-have-you and read on.
Under the existing 99-seat plan, if you want to self-produce your play you can rent a theatre, hire a director, designers, cast willing, AEA actors (for very little money–$11/performance to start) and put on a show for about $30,000 (see Post #5 in this series https://lafpi.com/2015/02/the-self-production-series-with-anna-nicholas-5-budgeting/).
If the proposal passes, AEA actors will need to be paid minimum–but still not a living–wage (See below for exceptions) from the first day of rehearsals through closing night. Doesn’t sound bad, and in fact most people–actors and producers alike–working in 99-seat theatre would like actors to be paid more. But AEA is pushing these changes through despite the following facts: (1) Over 7000 paid up AEA members in LA are fighting the proposed changes, with little to no acknowledgment from the union, and (2) Passage will make production budgets swell to the point where there could be a chilling effect on the creation of new work by reducing the number of plays produced in LA. It’s therefore likely some theatres will close, resulting in fewer opportunities for actors, directors and playwrights, as well as adversely affecting the economic vitality of some businesses and neighborhoods.
AEA seems to believe that passing the proposals will create more lucrative union “contracts” (99-seat is not a contract, only a plan allowing members to appear without one) but there’s no evidentiary support for this notion. It’s just a hope. And given that very few producers of 99-seat theatre make their money back producing under the current plan, it’s extremely unlikely they’ll be inclined to increase their budgets (and thereby their losses) if the proposal were to pass. The money just isn’t there.
In addition to being a playwright with a law degree, I have a masters degree in Mediation (again, don’t ask) so I’ve learned first hand that there are always at least three sides to any story. This one’s no different. There has been a lot of speculation on both sides about what might happen if the proposals pass but no one knows for sure what will. One might think, however, that because member pushback against the proposals has been so strong, that the union leadership would go slower and listen. I suggested to AEA’s council, which theoretically works for us, the membership, that before we go to vote, we mediate the dispute, with representatives from both sides, to develop language in a new proposal, which both sides can live with. To their credit, a couple of AEA councilors did get back to me, saying it was a good idea, but sadly, nothing came of it.
It’s seems as though they have decided this thing is going to pass no matter what and are using some rather suspect tactics to make it happen. I offer two bits of evidence in support of this claim: AEA leadership is having, “volunteers” cold-call AEA members, presenting only the “Yes” side of the issue. They’re also prohibiting the “No” side from submitting an information sheet, which might have satisfied the need for “equal time,” to go out in voting materials. In other words, Equity is stacking the deck and using member dues to present a one-sided argument, which most of the LA membership, familiar with what’s going on, is opposed to.
The “No” folks are calling for a special meeting with AEA, demonstrating their willingness to come to the table to talk. But so far, AEA hasn’t budged. That speaks volumes and volumes. Volumes of what, I don’t want to know but make no mistake, whether the proposals pass or fail, LA Theatre—particularly small-venue, intimate theatre, which many playwrights are writing for—will change. That’s because even the “No” people realize that alterations to the 30-year plan are needed. We just don’t want the changes as currently proposed. AEA, on the other hand, is saying, “Vote ‘Yes’ to the proposal and we’ll agree to modifications later.” This is a little like your child’s kidnappers saying, “Give us the money but you’re going to have to trust us your kid’s okay.” Really? Trust you because you’ve been so upfront about everything so far? (Metaphor chosen for dramatic effect).
As to those exceptions: In the proposed plan, Equity has carved out two scenarios, which might spare playwright-producers from having to pay minimum wage from the onset of rehearsals. The first applies to existing membership companies, which could produce your play with their company members of record as of April 1, 2015. The other is a self-production exception where you can put together a group of people to put on your play, just as we have now. BUT you cannot be involved (partnered with, take money from) any 501.C 3 organization; nor can you accept tax- deductible donations. So yeah, you can still self-produce but you’ll need to come up with more money from your trust fund (ha!) or from friends who don’t need the tax deductions. Of course, you always have the option of hiring non-Equity actors. There are some very good ones but in general, the majority of the polished, professional and trained actors out there are members of AEA. Not being able to have them—provided you want them and they want to do your play—does neither side any good.
If you see the value in keeping the major elements of the current plan in place (with negotiated changes still to be worked out), seek out your LA based, paid-up Equity friends and encourage them to vote “No.” People you may know who have come out opposed to the proposed changes include: Actors Tim Robbins, Ed Harris, John Rubinstein, Frances Fisher, Jason Alexander; playwrights Neil LaBute, Jane Anderson, Justin Tanner, Murray Mednick and others who’ve seen their plays produced under the current plan, are also opposed. City council member Mitch O’Farrell is against it. Curiously, Charlayne Woodard, a lovely performer, is a “Yes” voter, as is Samuel L. Jackson who could afford to pay actors far more than minimum wage were he to decide to produce a play.
The fact remains, no producer of 99-seat theatre is getting rich producing theatre under the current plan. They’re barely breaking even. But you don’t need to believe me. Theatre companies have released their budgets to prove it and I urge you to do your own due diligence on the issue. See the AEA website: http://actorsequity.org or call a Western Regional council member for their side. The pro-99 (anti-AEA proposal) site is at: http://ilove99.org Read up.
As Steve Apostalina, an AEA member as well as playwright and producer, noted in his post on the issue (https://www.facebook.com/groups/1507815836104686/permalink/1613642405522028/), when Athol Fugard’s The Blood Knot first opened, it was to an audience of one. What Equity house would have risked that? And yet, Mr. Fugard became one of the most important and influential writers in the world – EVER! “Imagine”, says Apostalina, “if we have an Athol Fugard in LA just waiting to be heard. Killing small theatre will likely eliminate the possibility.”
Next time: About that Casting Director…
Maps of the Mind
There is a wonderful interview with Janelle Jansted, in the current publication of The Shakespeare Standard, By Jeffrey Kahan.
The interview with Janelle Jenstad
It’s a bit of a read, but by god, what a fascinating woman. She’s very clear about her first disinterested forays into the cult of Shakespeare, but her life story of academia, and travel, and discovery is really inspiring.
I also love that her discovery of maps, street maps, ancient maps, have appeared in her life. A recent story that I’m writing has changed (a lot) because I decided to draw a map where the characters lived and migrated to.
At any rate, it was a nice read about a woman I really admire. And that was a nice find this week.
A Burlesque Show
Some weeks back, I went with a group of friends to a burlesque show to see a “vintage” performance of the art of burlesque dance.
I’d seen burlesque represented in lots of plays and movies, I just have never seen one in the flesh, as it were.
It was a very interesting form of storytelling: the women were dressed in rather cheesy vintage outfits, (lots of feathers flying around) and created characters who seemed funny, sly, clever and for the most part, naked. I’d never seen pasties on a woman before, and they looked…odd. It just was strange to see a woman’s breast, and so much focus on looking at a woman’s breast, but then the nipple had to be covered up. With pasties. Very odd.
The emcee was a very charismatic performer, crooning away, winking at the crowd, with a terribly sophisticated and bored persona. The crowd was very young, as in late twenties, early thirties (I seem to see a much older audience in the plays I see here in Los Angeles). And they seemed to have great fun: lots of laughter and joking and carrying on.
I’m still amazed at the graciousness and generosity of the dancers – they really included the audience in their form of tribal dance (“opps, I lost my clothes” kind of tribal dance), but they conveyed a kind of self that I really admired. And it was great to see a part of Los Angeles culture that I had never seen before.
Equity Waiver Wars
I remember when I worked in San Francisco as an actor, yes, in the 1980’s, and there were the “Equity” and the “Non-Equity” theater wars. This was during a period of time when Equity Waiver contracts were being negotiated for the smaller San Francisco houses, and a non-union organization, BATWA, wanted to be part of the dialogue. (BATWA stood for “Bay Area Theater Workers Association”.) I was a member of Actors’ Equity Association (AEA) and I was a member of BATWA. There were yelling, screaming sessions with small theater managers and actors and playwrights. I remember that it did not end well. Thank God those days are over.
I ended my membership in AEA in the 1990’s, for many reasons, but especially after attending some of the Los Angeles area AEA meetings. (Yes, there were more of those yelling, screaming sessions that did not end well. This time between AEA members and AEA union officials. I remember thinking when I left those meetings for the last time: Thank God those days are over.) And now here we are, in 2015, with a similar conflict going on in the theater community once again. In this Bitter Lemons article, you’ll find some of this yelling and screaming behavior still going on in the comment sections:
In the past few weeks I’ve been following the conflict and the articles and the calls to action:
Stage Scene LA: 99 Seat Plan in Jeopardy
The Huffington Post: A Love Letter Wake Up Call
Backstage: Equity Fires Back at LA Theater Critics
There are so many real and passionate issues to be considered in this conflict: I wish the noise of it all could be voiced without the mud slinging and fury.
Ballots for the vote on the plan will be mailed to the AEA members on March 25. The ballots will need to be returned by April 17, and the union’s council will make a final decision on the new 99-seat plan April 21. I’m no longer an AEA member, so I won’t be voting on this issue, but I can see that this new plan will affect the future of how theater is produced here in Los Angeles. I might not be saying Thank God those days are over.
I hate conflict…wait…um…I hate…um…indecision…
This has been a difficult period of time for Los Angeles area Equity waiver theatre. There have been very emotional, bitter and articulate messages from the union members about keeping waiver theatre at it’s current structure. There have been notices and interviews from Equity members about the need for new financial realities. And I hate it. I hate it because of the bickering, disrespect and hysterical name calling. I hate it because, frankly, I hate conflict. Not a good thing if you’re an artist. Or an actor. Or a writer. Because I know that conflict is necesary for growth, comedy, negotiating, and change. Yeah. I know all that. I just hate the divisiveness and angst that seems to implode this particular issue.
So I’m going to share something completely different from the ongoing saga of the Equity Waiver War here in Los Angeles Theatre. It’s an interview with Kathleen Marshall, and here is her closing quote on the article that appeared in THE INTERVAL:
What’s something you think people can do to improve gender parity in theatre?
I think that one of our responsibilities as women working in theatre is to give opportunities to other women working in theatre. And that can be in all kinds of ways. That can be having them as an assistant or observing on a show. Supporting other women who are artists, which could mean just going to their shows and being a positive presence in other people’s lives. I believe that good work is the best way to promote yourself and if you create good work that, hopefully, is also successful then that will be what gets you noticed.
http://the-interval.com/ints/km/
The Self Production Series with Anna Nicholas: #7 Choosing Your Director…
# 7. Choosing your Director
by Guest Blogger Anna Nicholas
When a playwright finds her ideal director, she finds the person who doesn’t just “get” her play but has a vision of where the play could go beyond what the playwright imagined, someone who will interpret the script and add something to it. That’s my take. Some playwrights, however, simply want a director to follow their script, without changing or embellishing—someone who won’t get too “creative.”
This is where having some self-awareness is vital. Are you the type who wants a say in every aspect of getting your play to the stage? If so, consider directing the play yourself. Alan Ayckbourn, the English playwright, built a theatre so he could direct his own plays. Maybe he’s a control freak or maybe he simply enjoys directing. Some people think he does a fine job with his own plays but more than a few directors I know (of course they’re directors) say people other than Ayckbourn direct Ayckbourn better than Ayckbourn directs Ayckbourn. The point is, you can save yourself some angst if you can figure out how much you’re willing to let go before you hire someone. Granted, this is determined, to large extent, on whom you get to direct your play and how much you are able to trust them with your creation. If someone with the reputation of a Dan Sullivan or Emma Rice wants to direct, it might be easier to hand off artistic control but how many of us in low-budget theatre can afford these folks? That is if they’d even deign to read our plays. There’s nothing to be lost by trying for your ideal choice but the simple challenge for most of us is finding a director you can work with and trust, whom you can also afford.
Start your search for a director by seeing a lot of plays produced in your geographic region, particularly those of a similar genre to your play. If you have money to bring someone in from outside that’s fine but see their work, talk to other playwrights and actors about the reputations of prospective directors and filter those opinions based on reviews, genre of play and budget. Once you’ve found some prospects, contact them and ask if you can send your play. If the prospects act like they don’t have time for you, they’re probably not right. In my case, a few directors I contacted just ignored me and that told me something about them too. Another place to look for a director is at local universities, which offer a MFA in Directing or Performance Arts. A recent graduate might be thrilled at the opportunity to direct a new play.
Once a few directors have read your play, meet with each of them and find out what their work process is. Some don’t want the playwright around. Some, like the director of Villa Thrilla, wanted me at every rehearsal. At a talk back with Jonathan Tolins, the author of Buyer & Cellar, I asked him this very question. And he said he sits in on rehearsals for the first week, during read-throughs and character work to answer any questions and then he goes away unless the actors or someone else on the production has a problem. He says the director and actors need time to bitch and moan about the play without fear of offending the writer. Also, not being at all the rehearsals gives him time to write.
Discuss the budgets and ideas for Set Design, Costume, Lighting and Sound. Often directors will have people they’ve worked with in the past and sometimes they are able to get key designers to lower their rates.
What you pay a director is between you and the person you hire. It’s a negotiation like any other and the pay range can be anywhere from $500 to $4000 depending on the schedule and how much work is expected. Some directors are members of the SDC (union) so their rates are set. In other cases, you might form a partnership with someone you honestly like and respect, whom you can see working with for the long haul and giving up a piece of the pie, as it were, and avoid another cash expense. If you decide to do this, however, I’d advise, building into the contract, a buy-out fee, should it turn out you were wrong about that partnership. Beware the director who gets big ideas about expensive things your show needs after you’re already in rehearsal. Ideally you can avoid this by talking things through ahead of time and by finding out a director’s reputation prior to hiring him or her.
All in, your director needs to be keen on directing your play. His or her personality should mesh with yours while at the same time remaining distinct. Putting on a play is a collaboration and, in a way, like a short-term marriage. Spend time researching and choosing your partner and you should have a great working experience.
Next up: Do you need a Casting Director?
