Short video on navigating our website to find a Hollywood Fringe Festival show to attend and support Women on Stage, and more specifically, Women on the Fringe! Also some helpful tips once you’re on the Hollywood Fringe Festival site to share and support!
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This is a prologue from a novel I’m writing, first draft ready May 1st! Feedback is appreciated.
The Word hid from view more years than we have numbers to count. It felt easy for the word to hide – simpler when you’re the only one who knows that you exist.
The Word hid in the dark. Relied on memories, on ghost stories, on soldiers, and eventually on troubadours to understand where Word lived and how long before she was needed. Her appearance must be impeccably timed, her knowledge shared with only the most needful of all. Revealing her power too early would be disastrous, or before she found herself in the right spot.
She’d misjudged once and tablets were created. Tall craters of clay shaped and symbols drawn into the malleable forms before drying. She says misjudged because soon after were The Great Ruins and the Word was nearly washed away, forever, or rock could have fallen and sealed the Word into her cave.
She must not misjudge again.
The Word waits. The Word hides.
We’ve all been there. We’ve all received feedback for a play and gone huh? We writers want to be diplomatic and open, but at the end of the day, some things we hear are just plain stupid.
When we receive those little gems of stupidity, we nod, smile, and say, yeah, I see. Then, we promptly forget it or put the comment on auto repeat as we drink ourselves into a stupor or walk away with our hands on our hips whispering what the f*ck while wondering why we even allowed that person to talk to us in the first place.
I won’t go into all stupid comments I have received over the years. I actually have forgotten many of them sometimes without the aid of the drunken stupor. However, there are a few that I just have to share.
Diplomatic Disclaimer: These are comments I have heard repeatedly over the course of almost twenty years, so if you think you may have said something similar to me, I have no memory of you saying it specifically. It’s not you, it’s me. All me.
You are crazy for writing that. Wow Jen, you write crazy. Whoa, crazy stuff.
Sometimes this comment is meant to be a compliment. Still, the implication is that I am out of mind when I work. This is not true. I am focused. I am working with an awareness of both the mental and sensual. I don’t write for therapy either.
I don’t get it. I don’t feel it. I dig it. I love it! IIIIIIIII. . .
The interesting thing about I-comments is that they are about the speaker saying them. They’re not about the work in question. That’s nice that you get it or don’t get it, but if you really want to engage a writer about her work, ask her a question. Questions lead to communication. That’s good. Communication is good.
It’s like Beckett. It’s Beckettesque. Very Beckett.
Beckett didn’t write my stuff. I wrote my stuff. Beckett wrote his own stuff. I respect Beckett. Usually when someone uses a term like Beckettesque (or Pinteresque or Chehovian), she (or he) can’t speak deeper about such a comparison which is not interesting to me anyway.
So what is a poor play viewer to do when she or he encounters me?
If you see me in person and want to tell me that you like my play, simply catch my eye and point to your nose with your right index finger. That’s all you have to do. I’ll know.
And if you want to compliment me, compliment my shoes because deep down, I am a girlie girl.
Or my Kirkian response to the Who Gives A Sh*t Question
I do read this blog when it’s not my week. Recently, Tiffany Antone raised the all important Who Gives A Sh*t Question. I could also call it, do people really want to see another play about characters sitting in chairs and talking about their issues?
Or I can ask, should I write stuff other people want to see? Should I play to the mob? Or should I challenge audience expectation and possibly never get produced? How do I keep the audience interested? How do I keep myself interested? I’m not interested. I suck. I can’t go on, I shall go on.
The no win cycle of writing new stuff-will the audience dig it-but needing to write it- but no one will get it (I’m paraphrasing) kept repeating in my head.
This led to the inevitable playwriting funk which sent me crawling back to prose-writing while watching movie star interviews on youtube.
Then I was rescued by basic cable. One night, as I surfing channels, I came upon Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Kahn. Ahah! The Kobayashi Maru Scenario.
In Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Kahn, a Starfleet cadet has to take a simulation test. She is the captain of a starship and receives a distress call from a civilian freighter (called The Kobayashi Maru) in the neutral zone. If the captain goes into the neutral zone, it would mean war with the Klingons. The purpose of simulation is to test the cadet in a no win scenario.
Captain Kirk’s solution to the no win scenario was to reprogram the simulation, so there was a solution. He cheated. But he won.
Maybe the solution to the Who Gives A Sh*t question is not in the answer but in the question itself. Change the question or make the question irrelevant. At the same time, there’s an audience out there in the dark. Show them something.
At the end of Wrath of Kahn, Kirk faced a no win scenario, but Spock saved the day and sacrificed himself (although he came back in Star Trek 3). So another question about the no win scenario, is what will you give up to win? Sometimes, the cost is too high.
Then again, that’s just a movie. And all we’re doing is writing plays. Or are we?
Maybe it’s time to become more Kirkian in the playwriting. Live long and prosper.
This past weekend, I braved the humidity of Prescott, AZ because my ten-minute play, Rinse, was produced along with ten minute plays by Jennie Webb, Micki Shelton, Katherine James, Kate Hawkes, Charlotte Winters, Sara Israel, Tiffany Antone, and Shanee Edwards in the Dirty Laundry Festival.
Yep, the ladies took over Prescott. Woohooo!
Tiffany Antone came up with Dirty Laundry because she decided to create a few playwriting opportunities of her own. And wow did she deliver an evening of theatrical fun. She is also courageous and bold, and her enthusiasm for all us writers was inspiring.
Even before I got to Arizona, Dirty Laundry was a growth experience. Since I lived 450 miles away, I couldn’t sit in on rehearsals. I couldn’t say yes or no to ideas. I had to let go of my play.
On Friday, Jennie Webb and I rode out to Prescott on 109 horses. When I arrived in the high altitude town, I immediately sought sanctuary in my hotel’s Jacuzzi.
On Friday night, Tiffany put together a backroom meet-up for writers, actors, and directors of the show. When folks learned that I had written Rinse, they usually reacted with Ohhhhhh as if there had been speculation about me.
My favorite encounter at the reception was with one of the actors. He was not in my play but had seen it at the tech.
Man: You don’t usually expect a play like yours from a woman.
Jen: What kind of play?
Man: Women don’t write about torture.
Jen: Actually there was a very popular play off-Broadway in the mid-eighties about a torturer and written by a woman.
Man: There was?
Jen: The Conduct of Life by Maria Irene Fornes.
Man: Never heard of it, but now I know.
On Saturday, the Dirty Laundry plays were presented at 2 and 7 at the Prescott Fine Arts Association whose theatre is an old Catholic Church. My play happened right after intermission, so I spent most of the intermission mentally making people sit down. Sit down, damn it!
Then I watched my play. . . .
Oh wow. . .
The director and cast took it on and went for it. The look and feel of the play was unique. The actors were physical and trusted what they were doing. It was like they were in their own self-contained universe.
So let me take this opportunity to publicly stand up and applaud Cason Murphy, the director and lighting designer and the excellent cast—Sean Jeralds, Anthony Osvog, and Dino Palazzi. I playwright love you guys.
Also a big thanks to the crew that toweled down the stage after my play. Things got a little wet onstage, but no towels were harmed during this production.
Special Thanks to David Cottle for the Production Photos
What will it take to have gender parity in America? Julia Jordan says lots of local, grassroots groups are springing up – like LAFPI. Collectively, they hold a lot of power. But not as much as artistic directors. They have the power to break the cycle. Look at the Blackburn Award winners and runners up who’ve never had a production. AD’s can aggressively go out there and decide to produce work by women and they won’t be hurt artistically or economically.
Sheri Wilner says AD’s are choosing playwrights not plays. We need to raise their conscience – take it to the streets and ticketbuyers.
Laura Shamas says she spent a year going to nothing but plays by women. If someone asks her to resubscribe to a theatre season, she says “no” unless they’ll do more shows by women. Economic information.
What can I do if I live in a tiny town? Jordan says it’s almost a PR war. You’d be hard pressed to find an artistic director who doesn’t know the “right” answer when it comes to the question of playwrights of color. Not so with gender. Add to the conversation with those artistic directors, this is something people have thought about and there IS a right answer. The numbers are so glaring, it cannot be ignored. Write letters, don’t give them your money. And it’s not just playwriting. It’s about all the arts, beyond the arts.
Sheri says there should be a wider net. A study looked at children’s books: 33% have a lead female character; 100% have lead male characters. We need to start early.
Laura says we were so inspired in LA by the east coast work, they did their own study, there’s a listing of plays by women on the website, and a blog as well. Start a festival! Address it creatively. There are LAFPI “agents” who reach out to theatres to ask, “how can we get you to consider more plays by female playwrights. Mixers. You can do this in your hometown. You’d be surprised what you can do with some cocktails.
Marsha Norman says every woman has to help another woman. There’s an infinite amount of “antelope” out there – we can be in the business of generosity. Why do the stories of women need to be told? Not just because they’re stories of women. We need to hear the stories of all the people here on earth if we’re to live here with any semblance of compassion and understanding. Every story that’s there to be told has to find its way to the stage. People in power have to stop telling the same damn story again and again on the American stage. We also have to get our own body of work done. And make it possible for people to come after us.
When Primary Stages did a season of plays by women, it was their lowest grossing season…it was also the season after the market crash. But did women get blamed for bad sales? Playwrights Horizons did really well with female playwrights. Last year, nearly 40% of the plays in NYC were by women, and many were hits.
How about cross-discipline boycotts? Dancers boycotting theatres that don’t do plays by women. Is there a Dramatists Guild policy on gender parity? Marsha said if that’s what’s needed, we’ll do it.
Marsha says the “afraid” part is a huge part of it. Be not afraid. Because what? It’s gonna get worse? Her two Broadway producers kept asking whether she’d seen any Tony nominated shows. She said no. “In a season where’s no work by women, I’m not going.” Our mouths have to open. Create an organization, be the artists telling stories who go to the White House.
Parity: Julie says she met with funding organization who told her what they did for writers of color. No quotas. Instead said, “we just want to see the numbers…how many did you produce…just for our own information.” Suddenly more works by writers of color were getting done. Something similar could be down the line for women. It starts with data, which is being compiled now and being available for anyone who wants them.
Self-Production Primer: Team Building – Roland Tec
Roland’s rules about producing:
The biggest challenge: writing is solitary. In order to become an effective producer, fight against natural tendency to hide in the corner. Producing is about gathering people together, getting a team of people to work at their peak. Producing is a creative act.
Get a notebook. Takes notes. The minute you start producing, every conversation moves it forward – or back. Take notes on every email, meeting, etc. Time is in short supply. Follow up quickly and effectively.
The “all in” rule: when you’re sending someone an email or leaving a phone message, include all the necessary information. Otherwise you slow down what needs to get done.
Clarify your goals: what’s your objective for this production? Is your goal to break even? Have a commercial success? If you don’t know before you begin, hard to access your success at the end.
Find a producing partner. You can’t write and produce at the same time.
We often think: who can help? Ask another question: how can every person in my life help? Everyone can offer something to the production. Find the right thing they can do. Some it may be money. Others may introduce you to other people. Others will be your greatest cheerleader. Or a great actor. Or teaches at a university and can get you student interns. Start thinking about finding ways in which the people in your world can become involved in your dream.
Scheduling: can’t start without your director. You want to make sure you have the right director, one who understands your show. If you have any reservations, keep looking.
Pre-production tasks: (2-6 months) Book the venue, raise the funds, hire the cast and publicist and crew (when hiring crew, delegate whenever possible – let your lighting designer hire everybody else in lighting, etc.), sign and file all union and legal paperwork, obtain the insurance.
Production tasks: rehearsing to performance level, build set and costumes, loading in, hanging and focusing the lights, rolling out the PR in all its forms (press release must drop at least six weeks prior to first performance), box office (never too early to start taking people’s money) and house management
Post: pay bills, strike set, return borrowed materials, assemble a clippings book (good press agent will do this for you, but they may miss something) – every mention in the press is there; assess financials; gather the team to say goodbye and thank you. Followup: what were your goals? Start assessing the success or failure or in between during the run of the show. If you want to move the show, you need to know early. Decide who’s on your decisionmaking team who’ll sit down with you to decide about moving the show.
Have a production office (your living room?) where people can meet, leave packages, etc. One central place.
Casting: in conjunction with director. A good director should have a way that he/she likes to cast. If using Equity actors, must notify Equity before casting the show. There are rules about casting Equity actors. When you start casting the show, that’s the beginning of your PR campaign. Actors are great marketers – talking up your show after reading the sides. The way you run your auditions is having an impact on how folks perceive the production. If they’re sitting around for seven hours to be seen for five minutes, forget it. Schedule appointments in 15 minute intervals. Your auditions are the first time you’re engaging with the public. Be organized. Don’t run long. Make people feel taken care of. Never give out roles. People value the things they have to work for.
Self-Production Panel: War Stories
Larry Dean Harris, Kathleen Warnock, Roland Tec
You are the one who is the most passionate about your work. Protect your own work. If it’s not right, you have the right to pull out. No production is better than a bad production. Don’t work with people who’ve already screwed you over. When someone shows you who they are, trust that. Work with people who like what you do. Don’t rush casting.
PR lessons: Do not count on reviews to fill your house. Sometimes reviewers don’t even show up. And even if they do, the review just doesn’t have the same impact it used to. (Reviews are good for an actor and writer for career building.) Build an audience your own way. New media is the way to go. Having a PR person is the first wing of your attack. How about a YouTube trailer? Postcards are being used less often (except in festivals) because of new media. But business card sized handouts are becoming popular.
Don’t count on your publicist to fill your house. But look for the thing that’s unique about your show – it gives your publicist something to sell. Good pictures are helpful online. Constant Contact is helpful. Create an event on Facebook, cultivate an individual blogger. You first contact your personal people, then media folks you know, then start emailing reporters you don’t know, and go to the festival bar and hand out postcards or fliers.
Go out and find your audience: whatever it is about your play that will drive people to the theatre. For a Bible play, Larry went to churches, talked to pastors and got church groups to come. For his play about alzheimers, he went after those groups.
Venue: putting your show in the appropriate venue can be key. Send your director to the walk thru so they know what they’re facing. And learn to live with it. Choose the venue with the smallest number of seats…then you’ll have a sellout. Get your feet wet the first time. Learn on someone else’s time: volunteer to be on someone else’s show. Learn from their mistakes. Find a buddy: do their show, then yours…and learn. Go see other folks’ shows; talk to people who’ve produced in that space. They’ll tell you what to put in your contract. And tell you about the things you don’t know: the rockband rehearsing next door, the parking lot that fills up from restaurant patrons down the street, the helicopters that fly overhead, the pipes that bang… Be aware that if you’re sharing space with other productions, you may have laughter next door during your serious drama. And their intermission becomes part of your show.
Think about non-traditional spaces – the front porch of a house, a tent. The venue can be an ad for your play.
Self -Production Primer; Brass Tacks – Roland Tec
Here’s a few thoughts about paying for your self-production: hold a fundraiser party. Roland Tec’s formula is that you invite a certain number of people (A) and ask for a set amount, say $50 (B), but only ten percent (.1) of those people show up. A x B x .1 = projected revenue. So if you invited 235 people and asked for 50 bucks, you’d make $1,175. Throw a good party. Do excerpts, but NOT the entire play.
Ticket sales: here’s the formula for estimating how much you’ll make from ticket sales. A = number of seats in house; B = total number of scheduled performances; C = average ticket price
AxBxcX.4 (40% capacity) = ticket sales
I’m looking forward to Tuesday. That’s when I’m stepping on a plane to Rhode Island where yet another college is producing my war crimes play “A Patch of Earth.” I’m looking forward to the talkback session with the students. They always ask the hard questions.
I’ve been very fortunate with this particular play to find exactly the right audience. It premiered at the Alleyway Theatre in Buffalo, where it won the Maxim Mazumdar New Play Competition. But it’s not exactly the most commercial thing I’ve ever written. As my pal who runs MetroStage in Alexandria puts it, “it’s hard to sell tickets to a show about slaughtering Bosnians at Srebrenica.”
But it’s exactly the right play for colleges, a place where young people spend hours debating moral questions. The play is the true story of Drazen Erdemovic, a Bosnian Croat who ended up fighting for all three sides during the Yugoslav war. He says he never killed anybody until his unit was sent to a farm outside of Srebrenica where they were instructed to kill busloads of men. He said he didn’t want to shoot, but was told if he felt so sorry for the victims he could stand up there with them and be shot himself. And then his compadres would go back to his village and shoot his wife and child.
It’s a story with characters around the age of college students, a story that happened in most of these students’ lifetime. The play has a big cast (at least 9, as many as 30) with lots of good female roles. Perfect for college productions.
And it’s had those college productions in Detroit, Pretoria, Costa Mesa, New Jersey, and now Rhode Island. (It even had one high school production last year in England!) “A Patch of Earth” was even published by the University of Wisconsin Press.
I don’t write all this to brag on myself, but to remind myself that not everything I write is destined for the Taper. Or the Geffen. Or the Pasadena Playhouse. That doesn’t mean the script doesn’t have value. In fact, it might affect more lives by being the perfect script for colleges. Or for community theatres. Or for young audiences.
Write the play that’s calling you to be written today. Worry about the audience it’s written for after you’re done. Because plays that need to be written seem to find their own audiences.
