Category Archives: LAFPI

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…

And, So It Begins…

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I have been internalizing for months.  I’ve named my characters, renamed some.  Heard first words and written them down.  Looked at the symbolism forming, done my research and talked out loud about some of what I think is going to happen – listening intently to the nuances of change in the story on its way to the page…

I am still debating which state the story takes place in but I am sure it will reveal itself to me while I am writing.  Some things just can’t be allowed to hold up the writing.  I can see the room, the scattered toys, the dim path lights and I can hear the sound of the snow cracking the bridge cover.  I’ve stepped to the beginning mark…

Of course, I feel as though I’ve bitten off more than I can chew like I do each time I start a play but I’m writing it anyway…  I plan to stay out of the way as best I can and let Fiddler’s Bridge reveal itself to me bit by bit, layer by layer, word by word, sound by sound.  I’m excited and at peace about it.  I love that it is finally time to write… 

And, so it begins…

Going With the Flow…

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 In my everyday life, I must remind myself to go with the flow and to not talk myself out of the adventure.  It is quite difficult to do 52 percent of the time.  I always feel as though I am wandering around in dimly lit forests without markers or roads, finding it hard to trust “the flow” of the thing.  The trees are so tall and closely set that I can hardly see the sun.  And, if I can’t see the sun, I can’t see my way out of the dark.  When I do trust the flow; it is always an amazing journey.  One would think that I would learn by now but I’m human and I like to have plans that work – most of the time – as opposed to having so many “go with the flow” moments. 

In my writing, there is no other way but going with the flow – regardless of the trees or the dark – the voices of the characters do not speak when tampered with and they have their own rhythm…  I have to be open when I write or I’d never be able to write.  Personally, I cannot do the “not writing” thing – must be writing, always writing…  And, I have come to rely on being open to the processes I use for writing my plays and have spent the last decade plus honing that sensitivity. 

With poetry, I have let it come in when and where it can find a space between plays and work mostly for special occasions like birthdays, holidays, and deaths.  For the last few years, I have been working on a book of poems for my mother – gut wrenching stuff to write but she says it’s like I’m her memory.  I did intend for it to be personal to my mother but did not expect it to take so long and be so emptying.  I literally have to take breaks after every few poems.  Because of that, I had started to think that putting a book together unlike just collecting poems was virtually impossible for me.  I have been planning to submit to a certain poetry contest for a few years but every year, the play submission deadlines overlap with the poetry manuscript submission deadline and in the time before and after submission periods, I was always writing another play.  This year, by some miracle, the deadline was extended two weeks.  So, I figured I would go with the flow by trying to submit something.  I started going through my stash of poems looking for a theme that jumped out at me – a daunting process to say the least as some of my best poems were off limits for this project.  I had to find an “in” so I wrote a poem about whatever it wanted to be about, was completely honest – no secret codes.  It went boldly to the scary dark place and said, “Now what?  You game?”  Suddenly, I knew what the theme was and how to pull poems I had already written into the pile, one being “Before the Red” and I knew I was going to have to keep going back to those scary places to write the manuscript right.  But even knowing that, time was running out.  I was going to have to write and rewrite a total of at least 50 poems in less than two weeks now.  It was new to me; I was completely terrified…scared…”afeared”.  I was traveling into scary dark places at a pace I didn’t think I could keep up…  I was writing through the night, writing through my lunch, writing while trying to get dressed for work…just writing and editing like a crazy woman…  Every time I would get overwhelmed and say, “Lord, I can’t do it.  I can’t finish in time.”  He would say to me, “But, what if you can?”  After a while, I found myself echoing, “What if I can?”  It was the million dollar question that I needed to have an answer to.  So, I continued to push hard; not making it when all I need to do is push hard a little bit longer is the worst kind of not making it.  I told myself I would push till the last available minute and just see what happens – just see if I can.  I could and I did.  I uploaded my finished manuscript with fifteen minutes to spare…New York time.

I had gone to the THERE space to the scary dark place and I had written it scared…but I had written it.  The flow of that thing was like being caught in the swell of a wave that refused to break.  I told a friend that I felt as though, I had become myself….nothing broken…nothing lacking…

Now…I am planning to start a new play to submit before March.  I have two weeks off from my day job and I ain’t scared to go wherever…because  I know I can go to the scary dark places…and still go with the flow…

Hats off (no, really) to Committees

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“A camel is a horse designed by committee” – Vogue, 1957

Mayhaps you’re all watching what is happening on The Hill… a room full of (mostly) men are sitting firm on their political high-horses, battling over what IS and IS NOT good for the American public…  They’re making decisions based on what they deem “right” (OR) “left” and the rest of us restlessly sit and wait.

Anybody else find this macrocosm representational of the more mundane parts of life?  Anybody ever scratch their heads at the “people in power” and wonder just “How in the hell” they became the megaphone for our “Voice”?

I’m interested in the parallels in politics between “their” and “here” – the White House to Theatre House -because it seems that I’ve been privy to a few conversations lately that make me wonder just when it was that these people lost touch with the world and began, for lack of classier language, touching only themselves.

I think it has something to do with hats.

You see… I’m broke.  And I live IN the world.  I’m not shoveling gravel, or hauling garbage… no, those blue-collar citizens might look at my liberal artistic self and roll their hard-working eyes.  But I am struggling, I am walking around in the shoes of the well-traveled and hungry.  And I’ve got about a dozen or so hats to juggle as a result.

Which means I can’t ever get too comfortable in just one.

I write, I teach, I tutor, I am the web-master/social media maven for my current employer – I also blog (for my own sake and as the occasional guest) and edit a LosAngeles centric webzine.  I am a daughter, friend, and (yippee) girlfriend – which means I am involved in the lives of those around me and I have a stake in their happiness as well as my own.  I work with students and faculty, and I do my own friggin’ laundry… I drive a beat up little Hyundai and my “grand” dreams of upgrading involve another… wait for it… Hyundai.

So, you see, I wear a lot of hats…

And I live a pretty down-to-earth existence.

But the people in “power” seem to have forgotten what it is like to live like this…

It requires compromise… it requires flexibility and ingenuity…

It requires the ability to put oneself in other’s shoes.

But instead, we get people wearing their “Control” hat (the one that shoots you the whammy if you disagree) and folded arms, standing atop their pillars of salt as though it’s all going to go their way or no way at all.

Mayhaps, and here’s the theatrical segue, the answer is to tear down and start over.

Whoa, whoa, wait a minute!  WHAT?

Just hang in here with me a moment longer…

I hear a lot of chit and a lot of chat about theatre companies NOT producing enough: new work, work by women, culturally specific work, devised work, political work, etc.   I hear a lot of theatre companies turn around and bemoan the lack of quality in said work, the lack of faith, and the lack of $$…

The people in charge, are dealing with budgets and spreadsheets, and trying to read the minds of their paying audiences and benefactors and otherwise worrying about keeping the “business” afloat, while the people creating the art are dealing with paying rent, trying to get produced, struggling to be relevant, and worrying about keeping their lives afloat.

What would happen if the two switched places for a while?

Probably something on par with what would happen if our Congress and Senate switched places with some “real folks” for a while:  Total and complete madness, followed by a (gasp) revolution of thought and of practice.

I mean, I am talking about some good old fashioned Freaky-Friday changes in perspective here, people!

Might we not all be able to head back to our “tired, stuck-on, and stubborn” hats with a little more perception?  Might we possibly come back to our “positions” (as power-player or peon) with a little more flexibility and ingenuity?

Or would it only strengthen our resolve to lock ourselves away in our tight little corners, unwilling to trust or listen to those we stand among, atop, and for?

(sigh)

It’s all really a bit of a mess, isn’t it?

Kind of like the camel…

And the beat goes on…

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…and on…. and on…

Is it the rythm of life?  My iTunes Genius?  A steel drum band?

Nope.

It’s the sound of my head, pounding against the desk… and a pile of DEADLINES!

I used to be the “high-anxiety-worry-the-project-to-it’s-near-death-before-it’s-even-close-to-being-due” type.

Now I’m the “I-know-it-will-get-done-because-I’m-such-a-worry-wort/plan-ahead-so-I-guess-it’s-okay-to-leave-things-to almost-the-last-minute-because-this-is-how-the-muse-likes-to-work-(even-if-I-don’t)” type… which means I butt my head right up against those due-due-due-dates till they’re done-done-done-dates… And the ceiling is getting a tad low over here at the moment.

But, anxiety around the task at hand aside, I have actually grown to (gasp) trust this process.

It’s one of the things I’ve learned about myself over the past two or three years; I’m still a worrier, but I’m a confident one.

I mean, the deadlines are looming, and I know I’ll make them all… (knock on wood)… but I’m also trusting that the Muse will poke me when she’s ready to buckle down… and until then, I’ll keep a pillow handy if the wait gets too intense (can’t be bruising up this skull of mine in the interim)

I just wish she would move a little bit faster… adhere to my three-days-before-the-deadline, deadlines… Instead of doing it her way.

(sigh)

But if I’ve learned ANYTHING, it’s that poking and nagging her is the shortest way to a headache… and I’m not in the mood for a tantrum!

Dramaturgy and the Playwright

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I wasn’t sure what I was going to write about this week – Christmas is here, the semester is nearly over, and the possibilities seemed (frighteningly) endless; Should I lament the mountain of submissions that’s been haunting my desk?  Talk about what it feels like to send out job after job after job application as I pray for a professorship teaching playwriting and acting somewhere green (but snowy at all the right times too) allt he while trying to keep up with the algebra class on campus so I can continue to TRY to tutor these kids on absolute values?  Should I talk about my new play?  My new blog that is thrilling me but keeping me up late (www.LosAngelesFAIL.com)?  WHAT SHOULD I WRITE ABOUT?!

Then I woke up to a four-pronged debate happening on the Literary Managers and Dramaturgs of the Americas listserve.

Wow.

And I thought, this is going to be an interesting Monday.

Basically (and I haven’t the permissions of those contributing to the debate, or else I’d repost their comments here) the discussion began with someone sharing a post by a dramaturg lamenting the process of dramaturging a show being directed by the playwright him/herself.  (Woof, did you get all that?  Because, I ran that sentence all the way to the finish line!)  I imagine that in such a case as this, even the best intentioned playwright could be a bit unyielding to a dramaturg’s best intentions – (after all,  there’s certainly the chance for a more balanced discussion with three at the table instead of just two) but the firestorm of discussion it stirred showed me that there is quite a lot of contention amongst two of a play’s (very important) team-players…

Because, as with many things put together through community/committee effort, so many voices are sure to have different opinions on just how the idea at hand is to be realized.

Some interesting points made (on both sides):

  • A script ain’t a Play until others (actors, designers, directors, etc) get involved – the argument stresses that you can write a script, but you can’t predict the Play .  And until it’s “played” it’s just words/ideas on a page.

Hmmmmm….. How do you writers feel about that?  Doesn’t it seem just a wee bit pretentious to assume that a playwright can’t fully understand his/her own work enough to be able to “predict” what it will look like and therefore be allowed to expect that the thing will be treated with some form of reverential realization before getting dressed down by an outside “opinionator” (now, that’s a fun new word!) –  Does such a theory indicate the theorizer believes him/herself a necessary component to “helping” the playwright’s “script” become a Play?  And until it’s a Play, is it just, merely, some thoughtful scribble on a page requiring help?

This discussion point alone saw many comments… One of the best (and most balanced) arguments I read stated that “dramaturgy is a function, not just a title, and nobody has a monopoly on insight” (credited to John Guare in regards to a note he once received, and applied, from an usher)  Isn’t it healthier for the working relationship at large if ALL involved are approaching the play with this mindset?  Rather than approaching the play as a thing that needs to be beat into shape by these new involvees (dramaturge/director/etc.)?

  • A text isn’t ever really fixed… This argument was made a few times in regards to plays “evolving” over time from production to production.  The caveat being that “new/emerging plays” (vs. those by dead playwrights) need to be aware of this “ever evolving” theatrical condition (and presumably, more open to dramaturgical responses) than those “dead” plays, long proven to work (Williams, Miller, etc.) or old enough to allow for as much “evolution” as the public will allow.

Does approaching a script as a constant “work in progress” help/hasten the development process, or does this attitude in fact, get in the way of fleshing out what the writer has written?  Jessica Kubzansky, a talented writer/direct and mentor of much esteem, has oft said “Commit to everything, but marry nothing” when working with new plays.  I LOVE this mentality!  For how can you possibly know whether a thing works, if you don’t first try it out – and try it honestly, sincerely, and to the best of your abilities?  It is only then that the “team” producing a script, and the playwright him/herself can truly decide whether the thing works.  But to approach a script thinking “It’s only words, and it’s going to have to evolve to suit those producing it” is a little too close to Hollywood practicum for my tastes…

And this was right about the time that copyright got thrown in the mix… And also about the time that someone piped in with a flippant remark that

  • Copyright is an American invention and European playwrights expect their work will be meddled with. (obviously, you can discern my opinions on this… the commentator himself did not use the term “meddle”)

Look, I’ve had this discussion before – (who hasn’t?)- when I was at the Kennedy Center Page to Stage Festival with one of my plays, I got to speak on a panel with other playwrights, dramaturgs, directors, actors, and development people.  Someone asked how we felt about letting directors have their way with our work, and the discussion suddenly got a bit frosty.  The argument was made that Shakespeare gets re-vamped/reworked all the time, and my reponse was “Yes, but how many of those ‘revamps’ are ever any good?”  The last thing I need is some cocky director looking at my text as his/her own blank canvas… I don’t write that way.  Some might (Thank you, Charles Mee and others, who write in such open and bold manner as to invite collaborators to “play” with your text.) but, until I write a script and include the author’s notes “Do with this text as ye will” – I’d like those directing or producing the thing to honor my intentions.  After all, why produce the thing if you just want to change it all around?  (I do actually write for designers and directors to have a lot of interpretational freedoms in most of my plays – because I see the benefit to varied productions on those scripts… but I include those encouragements in my author’s notes… and they’re prescribed freedoms within the context/world of the play.)

Ultimately, my response to this argument is that we have copyright and licensing laws to protect the text, and I’m THANKFUL for this “American” process!  I am thankful that we, as playwrights, can write with the expectation that our intentions should be honored and that we can also chose to eschew those protections if we see fit.

In any case… I’m not going to sit here and exclaim that the text as I first excitedly print off is the same that will be left on opening (or closing) night… but I am going to declare that until I’ve worked with actors and directors and maybe even a dramaturg or two, the script deserves to be flexed on its own merit.  It needs to be tested, discussed, tried, and re-worked… and I will do the work/revisions based on my interpretations of those readings/run-throughs/and discussions.

For, if a dramaturg wants to write a play, they should, in fact, take up the pen and paper.

If they want to dramaturg a play, they should approach it as a lover of words and “inspector” of moments/theme/consistency… they should approach the script AND the playwright with respect. (and in my experience, most good dramaturges do just this)

If it’s tearing apart and remodeling a person is into, then I think they should consider a career change… Hollyweird is always looking for new development personnel to “Fix” and “Mangle” screenplays… And the pay is way better too 😉

Collaborating With Your Self…

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Have you ever started writing a piece only to find out you could not finish it until you lived something out in your life? 

While writing “The Day of Small Things”, taken from Zechariah 4:10: 

“For who hath despised the day of small things? for they shall rejoice, and shall see the plummet in the hand of Zerubbabel [with] those seven; they [are] the eyes of the LORD, which run to and fro through the whole earth.” 

I realized that I had to personally know what “not despising the day of small things” meant in my life.  I had to live the answer – I had to know that to me it means pushing past all the little obstacles that are in my way as I journey to my goals.  The constant bombardment of stuff in the way and the unending task of trying to stay afloat can make one want to get past the “dumb stuff” and just jump ahead to the meat of the matter.  Then there are the “little victories” that seem to delay the big victories and one might want to forgo them as well for the main event – but one should celebrate them because a victory is a victory is a victory…  It’s the getting through all the “dumb stuff” and the “little victories” put together that result in the character needed to eventually reach the goals I’ve set for myself.  It’s the journey… I could have never written that play without them – the “dumb stuff” and the “little victories”…  After feeling like I had had triplets with no epidural, I started the play.  The main character was Robert Raikes, Jr. called “Bobby Wild Goose” by his adversaries – his real nickname.  Imagine all of the wonderful nuggets in that name – enough to spark the way into the story which happened to be about the start of Sunday school and Bobby Wild Goose’s journey to accomplish that feat.  A journey – the essence of which – I knew myself.

In “Dream Catcher“, I knew that one of my beloved characters had to die.  I was unable to write any portion of the play that lead up to and encompassed the death of this character until I lost my father.  His passing is when I knew why I had to wait to write it.  I had put the play down for a year after my father’s death and the day I picked it up again, with urgency it seemed, I was able to collaborate more with my inner self and bring some of the new moments I had experienced to the scenes.  In some ways, it has kept those fleeting moments alive.  I had to deal with the “I don’t want you to leave moments” I had with my father the last time I saw him; we all have them whether we are conscious of it or not.  I had to deal with the dream I had of him the morning he died when he came to see me “we went to lunch” and then the phone call from my sister came, confirming what I knew but didn’t really want to know.  I had to deal with the tribute poem I wrote to the sound of his voice in my head and the secret it – the poem – revealed.  When I returned to “Dream Catcher“, I allowed my “self” to have her say in the telling of the character’s death and she – my self – was a wonderful collaborator – separate, yet fully part of me…

One never knows where the stories will come from, all one can do is listen and be active in the retelling of it.

As a rule, when I sit down to write, I am conscious of being open to hearing from my inner self.  Most times it is the deep reaction to something or someone else that ends up on the page but sometimes it is a piece or part of all the things in my life floating through the lines of story…sometimes it is my self having her say…

When Did You Know…?

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At what point did you know that you were a playwright?  When was the first time you said, “I’m a playwright” or “I write plays” and it sounded right.  Was there some other career you were headed toward; where did you detour?   Or, were you always on track?

Did you study playwriting or learn by trial and error?  When did you find out that you were good at writing plays?  Was it by osmosis or did you get an “A” on a writing assignment or some serious clapping at the end of one of your plays?  What was the play?

When did you determine your voice as a writer?  Did it catch you by surprise?  What were you writing?

When did you know that life without writing was not an option…?

For the Girls Who Tell Stories…

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My month – last month – started off well, full of good intentions with the exception of scrambling for references for a certain competition.  It’s always hard to ask – again.  It’s not hard to know who to ask just hard to ask someone to write that reference one more time and you hope you won’t have to ask next year because you’ll be successful and there will be no need to ask again – you hope.  Near the middle of the month – September, the heaviness that accompanies the submission period hit me like a brick…  This time of the year is also the most demanding period of my “day job” which causes the inevitable fight to replenish myself in order to just keep up with everything.  For some quick R & R, I found myself sneaking moments with Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird” which I had never read and even though I have the beginnings of the perfect play to send…somewhere, I couldn’t stay away from the book.  It was like balm; reading it renewed me…like watching the sun set over the Pacific does.  That’s the thing about a good story, it pulls you into that world and out of yours for a moment.  I found Scout’s voice very comforting even though some of the subject matter was not.  I think it was the pure innocence of the child that grabbed me.  It seemed Atticus, Miss Maudie, and even Aunt Alexandra tried very hard to keep the children viewing the world through unskewed eyes.  As long as I could see the events through Scout’s eyes, I could see the patches of light in the middle of the gray. 

There are things about fiction that I try to bring to my playwriting like the full on description of the world to be materialized in some way in my plays and the lingering of sorts, the way a book lingers with you after you have come to know the characters or come face to face with the clear essence of the piece.  I had that experience this past weekend with Jennie Webb’s play, “Yard Sale Signs” about mothers and daughters (playing at the Rogue Machine Theatre).  It’s a comedy but it is so rich and full of stuff, I have to admit, there was a point early in the piece where I heard myself think, “Don’t you dare do that here and now”.  Who cries at a comedy?   So, I laughed instead, it was easy to laugh because it’s a really funny play.  I wasn’t sure I understood it all till the ride home when I couldn’t stop thinking about it, then I woke up the next morning thinking about it.  I’m still thinking about it.  I had never seen a play like that before, it caught me off guard so I promptly put my guard up.  Didn’t matter, it lingered.

The most important thing I came away with from Jennie’s play is that I need to work my  “Mother things” into the mix with approaching deadlines.  Live theater – it is truly a living breathing thing with a voice.  What really draws me to theater is the “right now-ness” of it – right now you are in the characters’ world and they are flesh and bone and if they stumble, you see it unfold, you feel it jumping out at you and you may even jump with them or in response.  You can’t push pause or sit the actors down till you are ready to get back into it; it’s an “off and running” thing and “ready or not”, it’s a “right now” moment.  But, if it’s a good moment, it lasts a lifetime…

I talk about going there as a writer but the flip side is going there as an audience member.  I should have cried like I wanted to.  Laughing and crying are tied together and sometimes the emotions that cause one to laugh are the same that cause one to cry.  I hope I can get back to see “Yard Sale Signs” again.  I’ll sit in the back and just let the jewels of truth have their way with me… 

It’s all the special moments that make theater so exciting, so spellbinding…like when I saw “For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf” by Ntozake Shange.  I had forgotten those moments until I saw the trailer for the movie “For Colored Girls” based on Shange’s play; the movie will open November 5th.  I tell you, I have to watch that trailer almost every day.  I had to re-read the play and that’s when I remembered…it was after seeing that play that I really began to search for my voice as a woman which has everything to do with my voice as a writer.  It was the first play I had ever seen at a real theater and there were brown girls just like me up on that stage but they were more than just brown girls, they were women talking about women’s things and feeling women’s feelings.  It is impossible to have a true world view without hearing from the women and the men…

So…

for the girls who tell stories…/ and climb trees alongside their brothers, reaching the upper branches to look out on the world/ who dance in spite of the offbeat rhythms running through their lives/ who sing in the wrong key till they learn the notes were never theirs to sing any way/ for the girls who find their own song and their own way to sing it/ who create from wombs, from words, or from living/ having more than a little “somethin’ somethin’” to give/ for the girls who dare to have a say…

i say… thank you…/ i’m listening…

Part 5 (or) Some and Summation

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I think, then, as I wrap this monster up, that the thing to remember is that we are all of us aspiring towards the extraordinary.

This is not an easy, or necessarily “friendly”, field.  Neither is the theater industry is a snake-pit either.  (Hello Hollywood!)  But the journey of the creative spirit continues to ask of us an incredible balance:  making art for art’s sake is one thing, commercializing it quite another.

If a theater company is interested in diverse theater, or if a theatre company generally produces plays about/by men, and if I am a white female playwright, do I keep writing the way I have, or do I write more characters of color/or/male?  How do we maintain our integrity in our strides to get ahead, be we author, producer, or artistic director, while we also strive to maintain cultural “fairness”?

Or is thinking about it too much a danger of another sort?

As a literary manager, I must remember to value balance – I would not want to see a whole season of plays written by “privileged white men” anymore than I would like to see a whole season of just about anything else.  The key is to create a balance within the designated aesthetic of any given theater company… And the theatre company itself has every right to decide what that aesthetic is.

My job as playwright then is to try to find theater companies who’s aesthetic matches my own… or even (perhaps) those theatre companies who look to be open for a feminine revolution.

The struggle then continues to be both global and internal; to engage in the community we so want to conquer, but to do so as best we, the individual theatre artist, can.  We will continue to juggle our own perspectives of what makes a play “good” and what makes it “necessary” and we will continue to fight for those that stir our convictions.

Meanwhile, there will continue to be conversations among those at the top and between those on the bottom, about how in the world to manage things better…

I guess, what I’m saying is, I can’t wait to be one of those people at the “top” – where the discussion is less about surviving as it is about setting the trends.