All posts by Robin Byrd

Stones in the Garden…

LAFPI, playwriting, , , , , , , ,

I’ve always wanted a garden even though I don’t know much about growing things.  I have destroyed a rubber plant twice and they’re supposed to be hard to kill.  I keep thinking that if I have a designated place for plants, they will grow well with water, air and soil and maybe a few stones here and there.  Certain plants need more or less sun than others.  I don’t know the exact planting season for each plant – hope it is on the package of seeds.  What I do know, is the smell and feel of good soil, played in enough of it as a child while digging up ant hills and worms.  I could always find at least one worm under a dug up stone.  The worms were always found in the best part of the soil.  Why did I spend so much time in dirt?  Feeding the pet ants of course!  Yeah, yeah, they didn’t know they were our pets but me and my big brother visited them all summer long with crumbs and water and ice cream so they were “pets.”  And, if we were careful, we could see the tunnels virtually intact once we started the excavation.

The observation and excavation skills I learned those summers work well when I’m writing or collecting moments for my writing.  I have to see the inner workings of things mainly because I believe there is a reason for everything and what’s on the inside affects your outside world more than you know.  So, when I say “does not cry” it is because I am hinting at a backstory to that character not trying to direct the actor.  I am lifting stones to get to the worm-filled soil.  My mother used to tell me that the worms made the soil good; at first sight a worm can appear to be an icky thing but ultimately the icky-ness is what enriches the soil or story…  The simple smell of it is as wonderful as spring rain on pavement and the feel of it in the hands always takes me back to the beginning of things…the place of possibility…

If Nobody Sings Along…

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Chrisette Michele, a phenomenal singer/songwriter, has a new album out titled LET FREEDOM REIGN and on the album there is a song called “If Nobody Sang Along.” In this song, she discusses having an audience to appreciate her work and wondering if the absence of that audience would affect her desire to tell her story… She resolves that when everything is said and done, it’s about the possibility of affecting someone’s world simply because she told her story that drives her to sing regardless…

As a playwright, the answer has to be ‘yes’, as well, otherwise, we would hardly get anything done.   What determines art – productions, readings or simply creating it?  How much stuff going wrong stops or trips you up?  For most of us, we write because we must and the obstacles work their way into and through our stories.  We answer those questions again and again as we endure…  We stand and fight for ourselves as we press through those moments of weakness.  Exhaustion wrapped ‘round our shoulders, we sit once more at the computer or pad and pen and write — something, anything, as long as it is story…

Years ago, at a church that I attended in the Midwest, the young ministers were given time on Sundays to preach from 3 – 5 pm (in the basement of the church).  Service attendance at that time of the day was usually slack; it was in the middle of the day when everyone was at home relaxing before returning for the 7 pm evening service or if they did return to the church early, they would be upstairs talking to other church members.  Most of the time the young ministers would cancel their service because no one showed up or if there were less than 5 people. There was one minister, a Minister Tom Carey, however, who would start preaching to an empty room.  He would preach as if the room was full, as if there was no tomorrow.  And, this brother who stuttered sometimes would preach stutter free.  You could hear him from the stairwell; it would draw you right down those stairs and into a seat.  We asked him why he would preach to an empty room and he would say, “God’s here.  I had something to say.” or “The Word is good all the time, even in a room with no people.”  (I paraphrase from memory.)  After a while, his services would be packed; his gift had made room for him even when nobody was singing along… 

I think about Minister Carey when I am up in the wee hours of the morning typing away at a story knowing my gift is making room for me, knowing God’s here and I have something to say, knowing that even in an empty room, my story is relevant and that I will always sing regardless of whether or not anyone sings along…

The Deliberate…

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It’s time to write but the internal mulling over process is growing branches – more like veins – and they’re burrowing…going places I did not expect.  I have been reading a lot of poetry lately – writing more of it than I have in years.  I have entered my sacred circle, searching for stories never expecting to find them in poetry but there they are – visible more to my ear than my eye, writing an old thing a new way.  I found a new poet, too.  Nikky Finney – who is not new but somehow she was hidden from me all these years.  Perhaps, I wasn’t ready for her; she’s intense.  Her poems help me understand the ache in my own poetry to be more than…  They’re like short stories – her poetry.  Raw, refined and full of truth – her poetry is a lesson in the deliberate…   Deliberate as in:  Intentional, on purpose, premeditated, calculated, planned, and not accidental.  Every writer should have/develop the ability to deliberately tell their stories, their way – to flip the switch that turns off all outside interference and just say it…

I am noticing a greater freedom in my poetry lately.  Now that I am focusing on it; it seems to have evolved into another form of storytelling.  It even almosts writes like a play.  In the past, I have written monologues in poetry but I never thought much about the connection to a freedom I haven’t had in my plays.  Not that I am not free already but in poetry, one can be sparse and direct and move on to the next thought.  This is the first time my poetry has become part of my circle where I thought of it as story first.  Putting together a manuscript recently, I found myself looking at the context of the whole, the arch, the subtext of the whole, the imagery, the story…   And, now, I can hear pieces and parts of poetry whispering to me from the shadows; on the verge of the light of day yet always just able to crawl back into their hiding places – too many to catch.  They want me to sit with them by the fire and listen as they slowly tell me – everything…they promise to tell me everything…  But, I have been so busy lately; there has been no time to linger in my sacred circle longer than a moment. Especially, since I was expecting characters from a play to speak and not fragments of poetry. 

Maybe the poetry will end up being a play…  At any rate, if I deliberately go with the flow and write whatever wants to be written now; I am sure it will enhance every area of my writing life.   May be the break will bring me back to the characters more refreshed and ready to rock and roll.  As long as I can meet my deadlines…

Persons of Interest “Special Edition” Blog

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1.  LA FPI Turns One!

It’s the LA FPI’s One Year Anniversary.  Los Angeles Female Playwrights Initiative Co-Founders, Laura Annawyn Shamas and Jennie Webb, have a few words to say on the matter.

Read their conversation here.


2.  The Study!

The Los Angeles Female Playwright’s Initiative Study results are posted (LA FPI Study).  Please read the results and leave a comment.  We’re looking forward to corresponding with you.

3.  LA FPI Study Director Comments!

Meet Ella Martin, the LA FPI Study Director. Read Ella’s blog articles here about her experience as the Study Director.  Read her results.  Feel free to comment and ask questions.

4.  What LA FPI Instigators have to say about our first year!

Visit this page to read what the LA FPI Instigators are saying…

 
To read the profiles of other LA FPI Persons of Interest Click Here.

Running Up the Side of the Mountain…

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When I was in the military, one of my duty stations was Fort Bliss in El Paso, Texas.  El Paso was so hot that at 0600 in the morning the units were already sweating before the run.  Running during the day could be considered suicidal; it rarely rained so much so, that there was no drainage system.  In order the make the PT (physical training) runs, one first needed to become weatherized and second, one needed to match the stride of a 6’ 2” male (the average height of the males on the post at that time).  I am 5’ 2” and it took me a step and a half to keep up with them.  My solution:  putting in the extra work; so I ran on Saturdays too — first around the base – that kept me about a half block behind which one didn’t want to be because if there was another unit behind you, they would pass you like road kill (not a good look when you get back to formation). 

It was a hard few months just to stay behind the second unit.  One day, one of the male soldiers in my unit (under 6 feet) told me about a mountain about 30 minutes away from the base that was good to run down.  He said that I would never be behind another unit again.  “Running up it,” he said, “was overkill.”  But I wanted to do more than just not be behind another unit, I wanted to be with mine and I did not want to make the other females look bad who were making the run with no trouble.  So, I was going for uphill work.  The thing about unit runs was there was the formation after the run and if you were getting an award that was when you got it.  If you weren’t there…“Shame on you.”  You had all of 3 minutes to catch your breath.

Then there was the CG’s Run (Commanding General) which was always longer than our regular run and if he felt “good” that day, the General would be present for award giving (even if it meant he had to run a little longer past his drop off point).  The entire base was running together during the CG’s Run.  It started at the Head Shed and picked up and dropped off units as we all circled the base once.  Never embarrass your Commanding Officer (CO) and First Sergeant by not being present at the end of that run.  So, 5’ 2” me ran the extra miles on the weekend up the side of the mountain to make sure I was on point should I ever get an award – which I did.  You can imagine the look on my CO and First Sergeant’s faces after the CG run when “Byrd, front and center!” was called and I materialized out of the ranks– completely obvious to everyone that I had made the run and wasn’t out of breath.

I think about those military days…especially when the goal I am trying to reach as a writer seems to be an uphill battle.  I remind myself about the mountain that was hard to even walk up the first time but after some time and diligence, I was able to run it…  I remember how it felt to make the runs.  As long as I use the time I am waiting to continue to hone my craft and expand my repertoire, I am not losing anything, not even time…  I am building… muscle, stamina, and confidence – confidence that when the time is nigh, I will be more than ready to stand among peers and not be out of breath…  I will be ready to report “front and center” with work built on strides perfected by running up the side of the mountain…

Nothing’s Impossible…

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Nothing’s impossible…I tell myself.  As long as I stay focused, writing one line at a time, I can do anything.  I know it will keep me up all night sometimes but I also know the immediate reward of completing something.   To me, it is what I must do.  I have a list of stories I plan to write; I add new ones to the list when they materialize.  I read through the list to remind myself of the stories from time to time.  I never think I have enough finished work because I have so much I want to write…  Keeping my website up-to-date helps me stay focused and on course no matter the challenges of juggling work and writing.  I believe that one day I’ll be free to just write but until then, I try to…   

“Write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, that he may run that readeth it.”  Habakkuk 2:2

One definition of “to run” is to “perform something, to carry out or accomplish something.”  There’s nothing like finishing a play, then another, and another…  Adding a new play to my list of completed pieces gives me a sense of accomplishment like no other…  I know that I am running uphill each time I decide to write another play but when I reach “The End”, I also reaffirm that nothing is impossible…

The subConscious…

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Last night I was dreaming about writing Fiddler’s Bridge.  I was dissecting the connections and characters and what their deals are.  I kept running through what was going on in my story all the while trying to sleep.  I awoke this morning wondering why in the world I was dreaming about my darn story.  This is not something I do in the early stages, it usually happens as I approach the end of Act One or the beginning of Act Two.  I was still tired so I tried to go back to sleep.  All I wanted was fifteen more minutes to make up for the interrupt – but that interrupt just continued right on through my extra fifteen minutes. 

“Okay, okay, I see the point where she takes her moment.  I won’t forget.  Yes.  I hear the silences.  Now, can I have my fifteen minutes?”

Thus went my conscious conversation with my subconscious.  It has got a whole lot to say about the structure of the subconscious world of the play.  How does one do that – write the subconscious world?  I try not to think about those kinds of things too hard; it normally takes care of itself without me having to be so aware of it.  My guess is that I have to approach this piece in a new way (along with some of my old ways).  This is about the only place in my life where I can embrace change without too much kicking and screaming.

I trust my subconscious – like hearing from it – it’s free to be…  Sounds like a dream, feels like a dream but doesn’t need interpreting.  It’s always pretty clear and sure of what’s needed to accomplish the task.  It abides in the secret place with my spirit man and is more in tune with the deep flow of things because it is uncensored and un-distracted by life and sleep… 

So on to the sub area…

Building Houses…

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I like watching houses being built especially if they have basements and the ground has to be dug out.  I like watching the pouring of the foundation and the laying of the cornerstones.  I like watching the leveling and anchoring.  I like seeing the little by little progress that eventually ends up being a finished house ready for furnishing.  I like knowing what the inners look like… 

The new dream house for the Home and Gardens network looks like a cabin on the outside but when you go inside, it is a completely modern house.  It’s beautiful (as they always are) but I was shocked by the blatant contrast between the outside and the inside of the house.  I actually gasped and not in a good way because I was thrown for a loop.  But, I was totally intrigued by the contrast and beauty of the house so I could not help looking at every nook and cranny…  And for that split second – at the moment of my gasp – I thought about theater, how the most effective pieces make you gasp as well.  They catch you by surprise and take you to places you never thought you would go to or move you in a way you never thought would be possible.  My first viewing of the house was like watching the revelation of a character whose outward appearance does not accurately depict who he/she is – “the secret”.  But, looking a little closer at the inners when exposed, you suddenly know who they are and why the façade.  And more exactly, why this façade in its inaccurate depiction of the character is still spot on with regards to the secret. 

Secrets – they always cause some kind of friction when revealed.  Quietly or out loud, privately or publicly, a secret revealed changes the atmosphere…  Secrets are always enough in my book to drive a good story or build a good character.  They also make for good gasping moments. 

I’ve been thinking…about capturing that gasping moment somehow in my new play…  So, I’m digging deep.  I have started building this house – this play – from the earth out…

Listening…

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 “Leave dat back dere.  It done.  Let it stay done.”                                                                        Maria  from The Grass Widow’s Son

For a few days and all day today, I have been hearing the above words from the last play I wrote.  At first, I couldn’t place the voice or the words; only the diction was familiar to me so I had to do a search of a few plays just to find out where it was coming from.  Since I am trying to “go with the flow”, I have to at least entertain the thought that part two of The Grass Widow’s Son might be knocking at the door even though I am trying to write a new piece…  Running the “why’s” and “how comes” through my head, I can see that it could be because I have a pressing issue that I need to suppress in order to write my next play.  It’s done and I need to let it stay done.  I need to leave it in the past and deal with it on another level – later.

It’s a really strange feeling to have your characters give you advice after the writing process is over…or not…  I did have a faint thought when I finished The Grass Widow’s Son about what the journey down that mountain would be like.  What a kicker if I have to write part two along with Fiddler’s Bridge – one day this one, next day that one…  Or, it could really be Maw Ria, (named after my great great grandmother) simply telling me to push through the past and do what I got to do now…Now…

Just yesterday, I was debating the state my new play would take place in.  Today, I understand that it was never a debate but the pull of the land – not on the piece but on me.  I’m not finished with the region depicted in Grass Widow and it’s not finished with me…

I’m still excited about writing Fiddler’s Bridge…still expectant about the journey…still going with the flow…  And, whatever else is calling out to me, I’m leaving room for it…  I’m listening…