THE ROLE OF THE PLAYWRIGHT – WHAT IS IT?

Uncategorized

By Diane Grant

I recently read this: “Until you start standing up for your work, you can’t expect anyone else to.” It seems obvious but it’s a very tricky statement.

The director is the King or Queen of the rehearsal room and as such has the primary responsibility of bringing the play to life. He or she is involved in all stages of the process, including set design and pre-production and the finished performances. That’s a given.

I’ve directed and know this. I love directing and always get such joy out of working with actors on their feet. I love watching the play evolve, the characters grow, their relationships deepen. I’m energized by the passionate discussions about what things mean and the discoveries that come from them. When everything comes together and the tempo and tone are right, it is hugely satisfying.

What I don’t really know is how the playwright’s role differs. If you are a playwright, privileged to have a production of one of your own plays in a theater in your own community, what is your role in rehearsal? Are you “allowed” to attend rehearsals? If you are in attendance, how do you behave? What is the relationship of the playwright to the director and actors?

Most of the time, producers, directors, and playwrights don’t know the answers to those questions.

The best answers I’ve seen are in the contract from The Alliance of Los Angeles Playwrights (written in consultation with The Dramatists Guild) that has the following provisions:

The author hereby agrees to:
2.2.1 Perform such services as may be necessary in making revisions of the PLAY;
2.2.2 Assist in the selection of the cast and consult with, assist, and advise the THEATRE, director, scenic, lighting, costume, sound designers, choreographer and/or dance director, stage combat/fight choreographer, and conductor, if any, regarding any problem arising out of the production of the PLAY (if the AUTHOR is available).
2.2.3 Attend rehearsals of the PLAY, as well as previews, and the Official Press Opening, provided he/she is in residence or is available to do so, and provided that, however, the AUTHOR may be excluded from such attendance on showing reasonable cause.

I would also like a provision that stipulates the necessity of initial collaborative discussions between producers, directors and playwright. During that time, if it becomes obvious that the producers’ and/or the director’s interpretation of the tone, style and meaning of the play differ from the playwright’s, the differences can be worked out before the rehearsal process begins.

Without this contract, I’ve gone into productions thinking that I didn’t have a voice. Past experiences convinced me I didn’t. Directors listened to nothing I said. My role was to rewrite and clarify bits of dialogue and stage directions and nothing more. I was shut out often enough that I stopped raising my voice and hand and sat in rehearsals, submerged and silent. In some instances, I developed an almost reactive formation in which I acted against my own instincts and just let things happen.

The ALAP contract provides guidelines for everyone involved and gives playwrights the right to be an equal part of the team. I will not do another production without that contract in hand.

It’s the beginning of standing up for your own work.

Panem et Circenses

Playwright, playwriting, , , , , , , , ,

By Tiffany Antone

I’ve let all of my professional memberships lapse this year.  It’s not because the value I place on them has lessened, it’s because I’m absolutely living-off-my-credit-cards broke.

Every time I get a Dramatists Guild newsletter, or an LMDA listserve digest, I feel guilty.  And sad.  I consider tacking their membership dues onto my “I’ll never pay it off anyway” Mastercard, and then get even more depressed because the last thing I need to do is collect interest on membership dues in addition to all the interest I’m already collecting on gas, food, and toilet paper.

I’ve been thinking a lot about money lately.  I’ve been thinking a lot about whether the Universe is testing me or if I’m only perpetuating my personal crisis by trying to find meaning here in the “What am I doing wrong?” zone of under/un-employment.

And maybe this week’s Black Friday Bludgeon-a-thon tipped me over into even drabber waters, because I really can’t help but be so focused on the deepening divide in this country between the “Haves” and “Have-Nots”.

We are not so far from a Hunger Games world as we think.

Which has me thinking: While there are certainly movies and plays being made that address today’s big issues, why aren’t there more  being produced that tap into today’s economic and social crises?  I admit, living in AZ – and now TX (yeehaw!) – has me at a disadvantage; I do not have my finger on the pulse of American theater.  (I’ve had to let my TCG membership go as well – I miss you American Theater Magazine!)   But I continue to read books and plays like a fiend and I consider my $5 movie matinees a forgivable splurge.  I also spend (too much) time online, trying to stay abreast of theatrical conversations and to feed my artistic self with updates about what is happening.

I try to stay up to date on what people are writing about and what audiences are gobbling up.

And I’d like to see more stories about the struggles going on in the trenches.

I read The Hunger Games series shortly after it came out.  No, I take that back… I devoured that series shortly after it came out.  I listened to friends talk about how the author didn’t “demonstrate the best craft,” and rolled my eyes, because they were eating the books up almost as fast as I was.

You see, the story is gripping.  The characters are compelling.  And the issues at play in the series are indeed very relevant, because – thematically speaking – we already live in a panem et circenses era.

Therefore, Hunger Games Fever is stoked not only by the story’s entertainment factors, but by our own class issues, hang-ups, and battles as well.  And it’s a HUGE box office success which means the story is reaching people.  There are many films, plays, and books that never enjoy the kind of commercial success the Hunger Games has achieved – so I’m not arguing that we need to make commercialism our goal!  But what I am suggesting is that audiences, while still wanting to be “entertained”, are also starved for relevance… and that IS a worthwhile goal.

We playwrights need to ask ourselves, thematically, what’s going to move today‘s audience?  To make people laugh harder, gasp louder, and think more fully?  To create the kinds of worlds and characters that compel an audience to act?

I don’t want to pacify an audience.

I don’t want to be part of the circus.

I want to break the circus down and get people up on their feet!

But that’s a big wish.  Even the project I’m referencing – The Hunger Games – which had a profound effect on my busy little mind, is still “just” a book.  “Just” a movie… I don’t see people refusing to buy up bits of tabloid what-not written about Jennifer Lawrence because – as is dramatized in the story – they now see that PR is all just illusion aimed to distract us from the pain behind the “circus” of life.

Still… I’m also probably not the only person making such a connection either.

We writers are all throwing stories into the ring, hoping one will catch the eye of the Ring Leader so that he/she will present it to the audience in grand fashion.  (Unless we become Ring Leaders ourselves…)  Isn’t every story just a part of the circus until someone receives it as more than?

I might be stretching the analogy a little thin…

All I know is, I’m out here on the perimeter looking in – as many writers and artists are – observing this spinning world from my own little nook, trying to say something worthwhile.  It’s a tough place to be sometimes, what with also living on planet Earth and locked in near constant financial aerobics in order to stay afloat.  I don’t always have the perfect words.  Sometimes it takes me months to get a scene “Just right”.  But people ask me what kind of plays I write, and I realize that the one thing my works all have in common is that they always tackle something bigger than myself.

Whether my intent is to make my audience laugh or cry, I always want them to leave the theater thinking.  I don’t want to distract them from the ugliness that is around them – I want to point at it, analyze it, laugh and scream at it…

There are a lot artists out there trying to achieve the same thing: to awaken the audience.

I just didn’t realize how important that “awakening” was until my life became less about “Which new boots am I going to buy with this week’s wages?” and more about “How am I going to eat this week?”

And, unfortunately, until I can stop answering that grocery question with my Mastercard, it looks like I’ll have to continue putting off paying all those membership dues.

But I’ll still be here – applying for jobs like motherf***er, trying to write stories that really move people, and hoping that enough someone-elses want to hear what I have to say that those stories I’m throwing into the ring start sticking.

 

Working Artist – Donating Artist – Surviving Artist

playwriting, , , ,

By Tiffany Antone

It seems I’ve been reading a lot of articles lately about whether or not artists should be paid/expect to be paid/pay their own way for the art they make/etc., and it’s making me grumpy.

It’s making me grumpy because in every case the author presupposes so much on behalf of the artists they purport to speak for/hypothesize on behalf of.  In every case, the author claims that (paraphrasing here to be sure – every article has had it’s own particular focus) “Artists shouldn’t expect to make money with their art – they should do it because a fiery passion to make art burns within” and “So, get a second or third job, surrender any hopes that you will ever own anything nice, and do what you love because you love it – not because you ever hope to make a living with it.”

Gag.

And B*llsh*t.

Let me be clear: I tell every student who wants to work professionally in the theater that it’s NOT an easy road.  That many of them will find that their paths take them in different directions than they intend.  That it’s okay if one day they decide they don’t want to be an actor/playwright/director after all.  I tell them that being an artist may not meet their economic standards, and that – yes – you need to really love this crazy profession in order to pursue it, because sometimes that’s all you’ll have separating you from a complete artistic meltdown.

Because it’s not a field where you can walk into ridiculously high-paying gigs fresh out of college or simply by making the right connections.  It’s not a field that pays highly, or “fairly”, or even sometimes at all.

In fact, much of the time, it pays nothing at all.

(sigh)

But I don’t tell them that they should suffer for their art, even though they might.  I don’t tell them that an artist should not ever expect, nor anticipate, nor (even) hope for, a paycheck someday.

Because if I do, then what does that say about how I value their art?

Art takes time.  It takes materials.  It takes energy.  If I write a play, I have to put in incredible time: the time to hone my craft, to write the script, to edit it, not to mention the time it takes to shop it around… That time isn’t “free” if I have to balance it against other jobs that pay and hopes for a personal life.  I’m carving that time out of the hours I’m supposed to be living/nurturing relationships with friends and family/making love/experiencing the world around me/etc.

Time is not free.

And then there are the materials an artist uses to make their art.  As a playwright, I have to own a laptop or a desktop or at least a notebook and lots of pens in order to get my words down on paper/or/screen.  I have to have a place to make my art – whether it’s my apartment or Starbucks or the park.  I have to feed myself, clothe myself, pay my electric bills… all of these “material goods” go into my ability to write.

And in order to hone my craft, find the time, and to supply the materials, I need money.

So, if I am working a job that is not in the arts to earn this money I need to make my art (as many of us do), then I am essentially working (at least) two jobs at all times: the one that pays and the one that doesn’t… yet.

Why is it so wrong then to hope that one day the play I write might pay me back with a bit of extrinsic gain in order to help my body and soul enjoy the intrinsic?  That “gain” may take the form of royalties, speaking fees, or a faculty position – and it may not be a lot, but receiving something other than a pat on back goes a long way in validating years of hard work put into evolving one’s artistic self.

I don’t think it’s asking a lot for artists to seek compensation.

I don’t think it’s a bad thing for artists to value their art more than just “art for art’s sake”

I do think that those who pass on the “You’ll never make money with your art and you shouldn’t want to” lie to other artists are merely perpetuating a malfunctioning system’s philosophy of self-preservation.

It’s not evil to hope that your art will one day help pay the bills instead of merely adding to them.

It’s not delusional to think that our current “Eat or be eaten” system can be improved.

There’s nothing wrong with theater companies seeking out new business models in the hopes of creating a life for their artists that includes less suffering and more art-making through financial support, be they commissions, salaries, or even just good-old-fashioned stipends.

Stop telling people what they should intend with their art.  Stop telling artists that giving it away for free/or/next to nothing is just the name of the game.

Because that kind of condescension does nothing to change the game.

~Tiffany

Thankful

playwriting,

Hey hey, it’s Turkey Day!  Er, Day Before Black Friday-day? Get Drunk With Your In-Laws Day?

Oh – haha – it’s Thanksgiving day.  And there is SO much to be thankful for!

So aside from the usual gratitude points like family and friends and food and shelter and chocolate, there are things going on in the playwriting world that merit some LAFPI thanks.

Gender Parity it making progress.  Kitty Felde did a nice write up about the DC/VA/MD theater commitment to producing female playwrights, and American Theater Magazine recently shared the list of most produced plays for 2013-14 of which HALF are by women!

This is good news.

Additionally, there are a host of female playwright centered festivals offering opportunities to lady scribes, so there’s really no excuse NOT to be writing, submitting, and submitting some more.

So let’s spend some time in gratitude land this afternoon for all that is good and evolving!

~Tiffany

 

So, How do YOU Pay the Bills?

playwriting, , ,

By Tiffany Antone

Playwright
Restaurant Manager
Literary Manager
Photographer
Craft Service monkey
Youth Commercial Acting Instructor
Survey Administrator
Census Taker
Editor
Social Media Manager
Events Coordinator
Math Tutor
Adjunct Faculty member
Producer
Director
Adjunct Faculty member
Independent Acting/Writing Instructor
Adjunct Faculty Member
Freelance Writer

It’s been nearly 6 years since I graduated with my MFA in Playwriting and I’ve yet to land a permanent job of any kind.  On one hand, this sort of lifestyle has afforded me the kind of creative flexibility that I crave.  On the other, well, a girl can only eat so many cans of Spaghettios.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my path at present because I currently find myself on the job hunt again – this time in Texas! – and I’m contemplating applying for a 9-5 desk job even though I know it will greatly detract from my writing time.  I’m kind of tired of the never-shrinking stack of bills on my desk.  I’m kind of tired of putting off things like planning our wedding and talking about babies because I can’t afford it.

But I’m curious what ya’ll do to stay afloat.  Ideas?  Tips?  Anyone else out there feel like a jack of all trades but a master of none?  I look at the list of jobs I’ve held since graduation and it makes my head spin.  No wonder I’m tired!  I’ve never held fewer than two jobs at once, and for the last three years I’ve been juggling at least three.

What’s a lady playwright supposed to do?

~Tiffany Antone

 

WHEN NEWS COLLIDES

Uncategorized, , , , , ,

by Kitty Felde

I have an orphan play that keeps getting readings, but no production. I’m sure you have one, too. Mine is a play for young audiences with a controversial topic – a character in blackface – and revolves around a holiday festival most Americans know nothing about. (And I wonder why nobody’s produced it yet!)

I’ve discovered the reality of the marketplace in children’s theatres these days: lots of new plays are being produced, but nearly all of them are based on favorite children’s books or Disney movies. Like Hollywood, these theatres are surviving by offering audiences the familiar and the famous.

So I decided to adapt my play to a chapter book. I even found an agent who is shopping it around to children’s book publishers.

But now, news about the topic of my play is breaking out worldwide. I just wish I knew how to capitalize on it.

And so I appeal to you, the great brain trust of LAFPI.

The Netherlands celebrates Christmas as a religious holiday on December 25th – though I found the churches sadly empty of anyone under the age of 100 when I lived there. Instead, Holland celebrates December 6th, the feast of St. Nicholas – or, as he is known in Holland, Sinterklaas.

Most Americans know Sinterklaas from one thing: the scene in “Miracle on 34th Street” where Edmund Gwenn as Santa speaks to the little Dutch war orphan and sings the Sinterklaas song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNpijhg3KN4

What most Americans don’t know is that when Sinterklaas arrives in Holland by boat from Spain (don’t ask), he’s accompanied by his buddy Zwarte Piet. That’s literally translated as Black Pete. And yes, it’s a Dutch person in blackface, complete with a bad Afro, overly large red lips, hoop earrings, and a clown-like costume.

The first time I saw Piet, I was appalled. My Dutch friends brushed off my reaction, insisting Pete was a Moor, or perhaps that dark from sliding down chimneys. They said he was a friend to Sinterklaas, not a slave. And that his crazy antics were amusing, not meant to ridicule people of color. Yeah, right.

I found it particularly interesting that there were now many people of color living in The Netherlands – from Suriname and Turkey and Africa – but none of them were called upon to play Pete.

In The Hague, where I was covering war crimes trials, I talked to the only American judge at the Tribunal, Gabrielle Kirk McDonald, an African-American former federal judge who became the Tribunal president. I asked her about Pete. She said every year, there was a debate in her group of African-American ex-pats about whether to make a big stink about Zwarte Piet or ignore him.

Judge McDonald became the inspiration for the adult character in my play THE LUCKIEST GIRL, the story of a ten year old African-American girl who moves to Holland with her grandmother, a lawyer at the Tribunal. Tahira is homesick. The last straw is when she discovers that Santa doesn’t come to Holland; instead, it’s Sinterklaas, and his politically incorrect buddy Zwarte Piet. Much to the horror of her grandmother, Tahira likes Piet.

This fall, UNESCO considered taking The Netherlands to task over Pete. And the Dutch reacted with a Facebook page devoted to Zwarte Piet that got a million likes in a DAY!

https://www.facebook.com/pietitie

Everybody and their brother has been writing about the controversy: New Yorker, Huffington Post, the Economist, and tons of newspapers in Great Britain.

https://www.google.com/url?q=http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/culture/2013/11/is-a-dutch-holiday-tradition-racist.html&ct=ga&cd=MTA3NDcxMTQ1MTc5OTg4MDk3ODY&cad=CAEYAA&usg=AFQjCNGgyKlg3dkXVljaoVqSTblGZqWuqg

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/tag/zwarte-piet

http://www.economist.com/news/europe/21588960-debate-holiday-tradition-exposes-racial-attitudes-zwarte-piet-racism

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/tensions-mount-in-the-netherlands-as-un-questions-black-pete-christmas-tradition-8909531.html

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2474693/Zwarte-Piet-abolished-Outrage-Netherlands-Black-Pete-Christmas-tradition.html

A bonanza, yes? Maybe.

So here’s my question for you playwrights smarter than me: what would you do to capitalize on this kind of publicity? Does it help or hurt the chances of a theatre doing the play? Should I be sending it to British children’s theatres? What should I be doing???

Meanwhile, I’m excited that THE LUCKIEST GIRL is getting another workshop reading at 11 AM, Sunday December 1st at Ensemble Studio Theatre Los Angeles as part of their fESTivity/LA 2013 series. (3269 Casitas Avenue, LA 90039)

It’s directed by Susie Tanner, who loves the script, and starring the two actors who should be playing Tahira and her Dutch friend Jan: Tamika Katon-Donegal and Whit Spurgeon.

http://ensemblestudiotheatrela.org/about/programs/festivityla-2013/

Please, please, please post ideas about marketing. And come on down for the reading at EST. Zwarte Piet might even have pepernoten and suikergoed (gingerbread cookies and sweets) to toss to the audience.

 

IT’S ALL ABOUT STORY

LAFPI, Uncategorized, , , ,

by Kitty Felde

Like many writers, plot is not my strong suit.

It’s been interesting of late, seeing a lot of new or newish plays that have major problems with plot. As in: nothing happens until the end of the first act, or the second act does not satisfy the desires of the audience set up in the first act, or the entire evening is just a series of short scenes with a twist at the end of each one. I may not be able to solve my own plot problems, but I can sure spot them in others.

I’ve put aside the new play I’ve been working on because of hitting the wall on plot.

Instead, I’ve been spending every early morning working on my second chapter book. These are the books designed to wean kids off picture books – designed for age 7-11 or so. I got frustrated that most theatres producing theatre for young audiences are adapting kids books rather than choosing original scripts. So, I thought I’d fight back by adapting my play THE LUCKIEST GIRL* into a BOOK. I even found an agent who’s shopping it around.

I rejoined the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and attended a local conference last month.

And there I was, listening to book writers talking about … plot.  Guess what? It’s all the same damn thing.

  • Conflict: You ask yourself what does my main character want? And what will she do to get it? Who or what’s standing in her way? Her desire conflicts with that of her antagonist. And you ask yourself why the antagonist doesn’t want her to achieve her great desire?
  • You start with the present world, then something happens to upset the apple cart.
  • Creating scenes: What character flaw or bad habit creates complications? Complications intensify, more obstacles, things get worse. Is there a single, driving force through all scenes? Are the heroine’s wants in the entire story?
  • Climax: the darkest hour that allows the heroine’s truest self to emerge. She takes charge of dealing with the story problem
  • The end: have we satisfied the expectations we have given our audience for what we promised at the beginning?

It’s the same damn Aristotelian story structure we all learned in Drama 101.

And so, now I find myself starting a new book**, knowing full well I’m going to have to wrestle with story structure again.

Just maybe not tonight.

*THE LUCKIEST GIRL: A ten year old African American girl who moves to Holland with her grandmother, who’s there to prosecute accused war criminals. Tahira is homesick. The last straw is when she discovers that Santa doesn’t come to Holland; instead, it’s Sinterklaas, and his politically incorrect buddy Zwarte Piet. Much to the horror of her grandmother, Tahira likes Piet.

**UNTITLED CAPITOL HILL CAPER: The young daughter of a Congressman walks dogs on Capitol Hill and solves the mystery of the Demon Cat of the Capitol Crypt.

 

FEMALE PLAYWRIGHTS GET THEIR MOMENT IN THE DC SPOTLIGHT

Uncategorized, ,

by Kitty Felde

So here’s some really big news that’s not yet public:

ALL the DC/VA/MD theatres are banding together and vowing to produce world premieres of plays by female playwrights.

It’s not official yet, but two different artistic directors have confirmed it.

This is a MAJOR step for female playwrights.

Unfortunately for DC writers, I don’t think it’s limited to us. Fortunately for you in Los Angeles, it looks like it will include you as well. So dig out that unproduced masterpiece and submit!

But more important than that, the challenge is on the table for theatres in OTHER cities – like LA – to follow suit. The pressure will be on THEM to produce ONE new play by a female playwright.

As soon as the DC theatre community makes it official, I’ll post the article and I’m asking each of YOU to send it to one or more theatres in LA.

One more word about being a playwright in DC. A recent study by our Dramatists Guild rep Gwydion Suilebhan showed that nearly one in three plays produced in Washington this coming season (2013-2014) are considered “new” – that means first, second or third productions.  Unfortunately for local DC writers, fewer than 1 in ten plays is by a local writer, about half the number of locally written plays produced in DC during the previous season. Writers here ARE getting produced – just not in DC.

So LAFPI activists, start putting the pressure on LA theatres so I can get something produced out there!

 

The Playwrights Responsibility

Playwright, playwriting

by Andie Bottrell

What is the playwrights responsibility? Is this a question you ever ask yourself? I find, particularly when I am working on stories that deal with violence, that I start questioning why I want to put more violent images out into the world. I question if the “moral” of the story is strong enough to justify it- or if anyone could walk away from it “inspired” to commit further violence in the world. Obviously we can’t control what may trigger someone to go off the deep end- didn’t I read something about Catcher in the Rye being mentioned as inspiration by three different murders including John Lennon’s assassinator? Still, I find myself often struggling between what my responsibility may be as a person who seeks to put stories before the public and my desire to have free range to explore a variety of characters and circumstances without judgement or consequence.

I am a person who is vehemently opposed to violence. You could basically describe me as an optimistic, anti-war, vegetarian, pacifist and as such I feel I have certain responsibilities to, for example, not create a play that promotes or justifies violence. That said, my most recent play depicts the murder of a newborn baby and follows a character, who not unlike myself considers herself a pacifist and when this viewpoint is put to the ultimate test of fight back or die- she deciders to fight back. Violence for violence. To be honest, I was exploring my own theories and beliefs- something I like to do when writing- and was totally surprised by the decision to have her fight back. I then had to come to the conclusion that perhaps I am less of a pacifist than I originally thought and I had to admit that I could understand instances when violence may in fact be a necessary evil.

Then, just days after coming to this conclusion, I watched that Daily Show interview with Malala Yousafzai where she had this to say:

“I started thinking about that, and I used to think that the Talib would come, and he would just kill me. But then I said, ‘If he comes, what would you do Malala?’ then I would reply to myself, ‘Malala, just take a shoe and hit him.’ But then I said, ‘If you hit a Talib with your shoe, then there would be no difference between you and the Talib. You must not treat others with cruelty and that much harshly, you must fight others but through peace and through dialogue and through education.’ Then I said I will tell him how important education is and that ‘I even want education for your children as well.’ And I will tell him, ‘That’s what I want to tell you, now do what you want.'”

And then I had to reconsider everything again. The point of this post, however, goes well beyond my own inner conflicts with pacifism.

Plays don’t have to have morals, they don’t need to have a “greater meaning.” Plays can just be plays. Art. If it takes you on a journey and makes your insides come alive, then I think it’s done its job. Interestingly enough, my favorite play of the last year was Tommy Smith’s WHITE HOT which was put up by The Vagrancy at this years Hollywood Fringe Festival. This is a play with a lot of violence that left many people feeling depressed (thankfully, the majority seemed happy with being made to feel that way!) Personally, I found it invigorating and refreshing because of the journey, because of my identification with the expression of those deep, dark, unnamable human emotions, because it made me laugh and cry and not feel so alone and get turned on and become scared. I feel that when a play achieves those things, whatever “meaning” or “moral” it may be spouting (if any) becomes almost irrelevant- doesn’t it? Or does it?

It all comes down to this basic question: What is the playwrights responsibility? Certainly playwrights, when produced, have a forum in which their stories will be presented to a community and this is a sacred, difficult to come by, and much revered privilege. It seems there should be some responsibility when it comes to what we do with it. Why is this a story that needs to be told? What are the potential desired or undesired consequences of presenting this story to a specific community? Or should you think about these questions at all? To me it seems like the primary difference between playing with dolls as a child and creating theatre as an adult is purpose and intent. As a child, you create for creations sake- to have fun- to play pretend. As an adult, you create (certainly for those reasons as well) but with the knowledge that you are also holding a platform in your community that has the power to effect lives and change. I’m curious to hear what everyone thinks on the playwrights responsibility!

Our Expectations, Our Fears

Uncategorized

by Andie Bottrell

o-matic

It was around 10am Sunday morning, October 13th and I was hauling industrial strength trash bags down to the end of the long parking area of my apartment building in Van Nuys. The contents made a lot of noise from the mix of empty wine bottles, cutlery, broken glass, potted plants, and the miscellaneous cloth of cut up clothes, no-good sheets and pillowcases. After making about 15 of these trips, I looked around my mostly bare apartment and deemed it “good enough” to make my escape. I had intended to move my chewed up couch to the curb and my neighbor had offered to help me, but when push came to shove and time ran out- he was no where to be found. There was no way I was going to attempt moving it by myself down a flight of stairs and up the long, long parking lot/driveway to the curb. I had managed such a feat once before in my life, but I was 24 then and a lot had changed in 3 years. I had also intended to offer all the items I couldn’t sell or fit into my car to my neighbors, but as mentioned- they were not home. So, I meticulously stacked, lined, folded and arranged in my OCD best a display of the items I was leaving behind in my apartment and wrote a little note to them to come take whatever they wanted, taped the note to their door, left my apartment unlocked, scrambled quickly into my car and took off down the open road- okay, not quite “open” road, I was still driving in L.A. for another hour and a half or more before I reached anything close to resembling an “open” road.

I had not foreseen my departure, though perhaps I should have, instead, it hit me like a ton of bricks the moment I had to call my mother to help me because I could not get myself out of a very serious financial pickle. When I realized what I needed to do, every fiber of my being screamed in totally overdramatic pain, “NO F-ING WAY! THAT’S NOT WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!” And shortly after other wailing thoughts cried out about how I was a failure to have let this happen, how I deserved it, how I had lost my shot, how I hadn’t tried hard enough, how all my work was going to be in vain now, how I would probably die having only gotten this far- which is to say NO WHERE. Devilish, unproductive and super overdramatic thoughts that some may even call “self-centered” and “first-worldly.” To which, I could not rationally disagree. However, the artistic soul, as I have observed it, is anything but rational. This is what makes it great. This is what allows it to do and create things other people can’t. This is also what makes so many artists tragic figures. While other people long to have families and save money for nice vacations and travel and have a nice house and car and a retirement plan, artists long to make great art- and that’s about it. This art becomes our family, our jobs, our vacations, our nice things. This art becomes everything. Of course, there are exceptions, and balanced artists probably do exist somewhere, but at least for me, this has been the case. I can live far away from my family with ease if it means I get to make art with other great artists on a daily basis. I can deal with loneliness. I can’t deal with not consistently working toward achieving my artistic goals.

My expectations when I moved to Los Angeles almost 6 years ago were something along the lines of: 1. Act in everything I can, 2. Get an agent, 3. Audition for TV and Films, 4. Book stuff, 5. Live the life of a working actor. I considered my expectations realistic because I didn’t give myself a timeline to achieve these things. I knew that some actors lived in LA 10 years before they got any kind of significant “break.” I was ready for a life-long battle that was going to be hard and uphill- or so I thought. About three months after moving to LA, while sharing a mattress on the stained carpet of a bachelor apartment that had been converted from a utility closet, I began to have my first ever “how is this going to work” breakdown.  It wasn’t the closet-apartment or the stained carpet or the shared mattress that got to me- it was the fact that I couldn’t get an audition for a crappy student film re-make of a bad movie scene for a one-line part, much less anything I wanted to play that broke me. I cried into my sleeping roommates arm, who refused to wake up for the drama. The next day I wiped my tears and decided to take action.

I started writing. I wrote my first short film. Then I produced, directed, and starred in it. I joined a writing group. I read book after book on writing. I did writing exercises. I made 5 more short films. I started writing features, and plays, poetry, short stories, title ideas, dialogue fragments, anything and everything. I joined a theatre company. I started something called Film Practice where every month for a year I would act and/or write/direct/edit a short film or scene with my friends. When I drove away from my apartment on Sunday, October 13th we had just completed our 10th month of Film Practice. My life since making the decision to take action, rather then wait for “Action” to be called was at least doubly improved. I was empowered and my artistic spirit soared with constant stimulation. On my 26 hour drive from L.A. to Springfield, MO I thought about how my passion had not diminished even slightly since my initial drive the opposite direction to LA, if anything, it had increased. I thought about my new goals and expectations. I want to be a writer/director/actress for Film/Television/Theatre. I want to be a female David Lynch-esque, Kafka-esque stylistic brand. I want to always be working, like Woody, from the last edit or curtain call of the last project to the first page of the new script. More than anything, I want to spend my entire life making a living doing what I love, what makes me excited to get out of bed, what makes it hard to go to sleep, what keeps me energized after 13 hours on set and only a half hour of sleep the night before. Elaborate, collaborative storytelling is the drug for me.

This is a super-sized expectation to carry, and the fears that challenge it have never been more loudly heard than in the quiet country of the bible-belt amongst the rain and cows and a Mother who worries how I will ever be able to live any kind of life on the expensive coast with the kind of work my Associates Degree in Occupational Studies from the American Academy of Dramatic Arts can get me. My irrational artistic soul tries to soothe me by telling me that if I just keep working at it, if I just never stop working at it, if I just work hard enough for long enough, there will HAVE to be some kind of payoff. Then, the migraine that is my rational brain-peanut-bitch pinches nerves and screams at me to “for the love of god” find some kind of stability to hold onto while I surf the seas of my creativity. And I am trying to listen to both. And I am trying to keep hope. And I am trying to stay creatively inspired midst constant anxiety of having left my home and life behind while I try to pay off the last 6 years of acquired debt and try to find a job here and deal with not being in a city where who I am and what I want in life are easily understood.

Managing expectations is hard. How do you keep dreaming the limitless possibility of dreams without making them so unrealistic that you’ll never be able to achieve them? The same can be said for managing fear- How do you allow yourself just enough fear to stay in touch with reality but not enough to keep you from avoiding life all together? I don’t have any answers, but am hoping to hear from other artists, particularly those further along in their journeys on how they’ve managed to balance survival jobs, life expenses, and creating the art they live for. Most the artists my age are in similar positions to me, working a billion odd jobs, occasionally living on credit cards, acquiring more and more debt that they have no illusions of ever being able to pay off, happy just to be making their art, and crossing their fingers nothing bad ever happens in their lives because they certainly don’t have insurance or a savings account. My move back to Missouri is my attempt to start over financially- get rid of my debt- build up some savings and learn how to manage my money better so that I can move back to LA, hopefully in a year, with slightly more solid ground under me and the tools necessary to support myself and my art and allow me stay there for the rest of my life. I’m looking at the long term and my artistic goals are a marathon; I’m going to need physical, emotional, creative and financial stamina if I’m ever going to get where I intend to go.

 

p.s. Looking for some writing exercises to challenge and inspire you to think outside your usual parameters? I post writing exercises weekly on my blog! Play along and send ’em in and I’ll post ’em!