Category Archives: playwriting

Wild Women

LAFPI, playwriting, , ,

I have just three bits of business before I finish up my blog week.

First of all, I highly recommend Cheryl Strayed’s memoir about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. It’s called Wild, and it’s a fun read. I saw Cheryl Strayed read at the Central Library downtown as part of the Aloud Series this past Wednesday, and it was great fun with a room full of adventurous folks.

I have a story that I want to share. The event was free, but you had to make a reservation online. However, all the reservations were booked, so you had to show up and get a standby number. When I showed up forty minutes before the event, all the standby numbers were taken and there was a long line of people with reservations. Since I didn’t have to be anywhere else, I decided to just hang out and see what happens. So I was leaning against a wall and talking to people when a woman in a gold shirt came up to me and gave me her ticket. It wasn’t a standby ticket but an actual ticket ticket. I thanked her profusely and walked in. Sometimes I should not ask how or why. Sometimes I should just go with it. Thank you lady in a gold shirt. Nice top by the way.

In other news. I had mentioned at the beginning of the week that I had no playwriting stuff happening until Tiffany Antone emailed me. I do have other writing stuff happening. I recently launched my second ebook. It’s a book of short stories about women in Los Angeles, and it’s written by my internet superheroine persona. It’s available exclusively for Amazon Kindle, and you can find it here.

Finally, looking ahead to tomorrow (Saturday), I plan to be at the LAFPI gathering at Samuel French Bookstore on Sunset in West Hollywood. It’s happening 1-4 in the afternoon. The first person who says the word, Tundra, to me gets a quarter.

Joy by Regina Leonard

playwriting, Uncategorized,

 

When I’m writing, I sometimes take a facebook break. I don’t stay on facebook too long, but I figure a facebook break is healtier than the cigarette breaks I used to take back when I smoked.

One day recently, a link to a youtube video of a song that my friend Regina Leonard (a great singer/songwriter) wrote popped up on my facebook. I clicked and watched. By the end of the song, I was in a happy place.

Regina Leonard is one of those awesome people that one meets every so often. I met her a few years ago at the Lost Studio. She’s fearless and fun as heck too. It is not surprising that she wrote a song called Joy.

So if you need a break from writing, here’s a great song to listen to:

Here’s the youtube link and her facebook page. Happy stuff

Most Unsuccessful Playwright Ever

playwriting, , ,

Yep, right here. Most unsuccessful playwright ever. And I hate superlatives.

Hello Lafpiers,

It’s my blog week here on LAFPI. So I had a whole big comic riff planned for my Monday post. I had planned to talk about how I had absolutely nothing happening in my playwriting world and how I was now aiming for a lack of success instead of success and how once I realized that I became a happier person even though to desire a lack of success instead of success is very un-American.

Then last week I got an email from Tiffany Antone. Darn you, Tiffanyyyyyy!

Tiffany is producing an evening of plays about pets, and I had sent her some monologues which I had totally forgotten about. Anyway, she’s putting my monologues in her pet play evening and would I be interested in writing another monologue?

Of course I wrote another monologue. So now, I have something theatrical happening and I can no longer be the most unsuccessful playwright ever. I’m bummed. I’m seriously bummed.

Meanwhile, on the cover of the most recent LA Weekly was a drawing of William Shakespeare with a laptop and the headline: Why Be a Playwright in LA? Inside, Steven Leigh Morris wrote a very engaging profile of four Los Angeles based playwrights. The article can be found here.

Personally, I’ve never been very good at being a playwright. I can’t figure out the secret handshake, and my wardrobe is all wrong. I just like to write plays that are crazy, sexy, cool.

But I could relate to the LA part of the headline. I’ve been looking around LA and asking myself why am I here? Sure there’s a great acting pool, but great actors can be found all over the world. Sure seventy degree February days are nice, but so is rain. Why am I in LA? I don’t have a witty answer for that one. I just know it’s April 2013, and I’m still in LA.

Writing “Crazy”…

LAFPI, playwriting, , , , , , , , , ,

I have been working on writing “crazy”.  There has to be a way to write it where it can be intense and alive off the page.  Not the crazy way out there kind of crazy but the almost perfectly sane, breaking beneath the surface kind of crazy.  I have been working internally on this for over a year now because I don’t really rewrite and know that if I haven’t solved it inside, it ain’t coming out any time soon.  Yes, I said it.  I am one of those.  I am not completely averse to rewriting but I haven’t had a play to date that has warranted me rewriting it.  I do tweak here and there.  My plays live internally so long that by the time they come bursting out I am in need of some serious Kegel exercises to get myself back to the place where I can begin again – conceiving/growing another play…  I have never seen a parent of a new born cutting limbs and shoving things in odd places on their newborn so I can’t see doing it to mine…  The sheer exhaustion of pushing out a play is enough to make me feel “crazy” without reorganizing parts. Never apologize for how you get the words to your page.  I am a firm believer that one of the things that makes Art – art, is how it is filtered through the artist…

I have heard Edward Albee say the following in person regarding rewrites:

Edward Albee: I don’t rewrite. Well, not much. I think I probably do all the rewriting that I’m going to do before I’m aware that I’m writing the play because obviously, the creativity resists — resides — in the unconscious, right? Probably resists the unconscious, too — resides in the unconscious. My plays, I think, are pretty much determined before I become aware of them. I think they formulated there, and then they move into the conscious mind, and then onto the page. By the time I’m willing to commit a play to paper, I pretty much know — or can trust — the characters to write the play for me. So, I don’t impose. I let them have their heads and say and do what they want, and it turns out to be a play.

You can read the rest of this interview at the Academy of Achievement website : http://achievement.org/autodoc/page/alb1int-4

I adore Edward Albee.  He’s a big reason why I work so hard on my craft.

Back to writing “crazy” – I saw “Silver Linings Playbook” today (David O. Russell, screenplay; Matthew Quick, novel, also directed by Russell).  What awesome writing! What a story…  The different levels and forms of crazy that people can be…it was like being in a “how to” seminar. And, the actors were phenomenal – all of them. This film answered a lot of questions about how “crazy” can be realized through story fearlessly.

Regarding my story — the one I need to write crazy in — I was afraid to let Valpecula have her full say…afraid I would edit her before her words could find air — something I never want to find myself doing because then, I’d have to rewrite.

Here’s to “crazy” and writing it fearlessly…

Got Rights?

playwriting, , , , , , ,
Erica Bennett
Erica Bennett

Gary Garrison, David Faux, Seth Cotterman and Amy Von Vett came to visit and a wonderful time was had by all!

Last Saturday at the DG’s Saturday event, I was met by the irrepressible Larry Dean Harris with a hug. Then Gary opened the session with a town hall meeting where he encouraged and cajoled and reminded us his team is there for each and every one of us, from contracts to advice to the members only portion of the DG website. Specifically, he reminded us, he cannot help, if he doesn’t know; if we don’t tell him. I was helped immensely by David Faux several years ago during a difficult time. Saturday made me proudly remember I am a member of a community and not just writing alone in my far corner of the world.

Gary also discussed the first national DG conference last year in Virginia and promoted the second coming up this August in Chicago. Much of the content will be streamed so even those of us who cannot make the trip, can watch a portion of the conference. And he announced the 2015 conference will be held in Los Angeles!

I attended David Faux’ break-out session on the business of playwriting where he broke down the DG Bill of Rights into witty, passionate and accessible terms and answered many questions. If you’ve not read the DG Bill of Rights, here is the link: http://www.dramatistsguild.com/billofrights/. Take the time to read it. It is who you are; a professional. I needed to be reminded. I find it difficult to stand up for my rights. But stand up I will. It’s funny. I realized, if I don’t demand a professional contract, why should anybody else treat me as one?

Oh, then lunch. I cannot say enough about the kindness of Ebony Rep/Nate Holden Performing Arts Center and their volunteer run snack bar. The turkey sandwich with the added slice of apple was simply delicious!

Thank you so much for a marvelous afternoon and for bringing me back to the fold. 🙂

 

Permission to Say…

Playwright, playwriting,

“You have to give yourself permission to say…” Theresa Rebeck

As a writer, “you have to give yourself permission to say” whatever needs to be said to tell the story – striving always not to sensor the authentic truth of the story.  Don’t sensor yourself.  It’s hard enough to release the flow of words from their birthing chamber without changing them as soon as they reach the light of day for fear of how they might be received.  Fearlessness is needed, as well as being honest in the writing and having confidence in your voice as a writer…

This is what I got from the conversation with Theresa Rebeck  at the Dramatists Guild Symposium on Saturday.  She was quite fascinating…

Tony Kushner

Playwright, playwriting,

 

Tony Kushner recently depressed me.

The LA Times has an Awards Season supplement called The Envelope that comes out every Thursday. It has articles on films with awards season buzz and ads, lots of ads.

In December, Tony Kushner was interviewed in an article in The Envelope because he wrote the screenplay for Lincoln about the president, not the car.

In the interview, he states:

You can have a play, like I did with “Angels,” and it still generates income for me, but it’s not enough for me to live on and have health insurance.

My toast eating jaw dropped open when I read that.

This is Tony Kushner. Angels in America Tony Kushner. Love him or hate him, you can’t deny that he wrote the iconic American play of the 1990s. His plays are required reading and probably still very much in print with shiny nice covers.

If Tony Kushner can’t afford health insurance with just playwriting money, what does that say about the playwriting profession? What does that say about the affordability of health insurance in this country?

Don’t be a playwright in the US. It could kill you.

Is the United States trying to kill off its playwrights? Is there a conspiracy? Are there old men sitting in dark room, smoking cigars, and discussing the eradication of playwrights?  Should we playwrights pack up and move to a country that will give us a living? I’m not exactly sure which country that would be. We might have to invent one because, well, we’re playwrights.

When Playwrights Get Old

Playwright, playwriting,

 

The great Kitty Felde recently worried in a blog posting about her age. How old is too old to be an emerging playwright (I’ve grown to loathe that phrase by the way)? When does one stop being the hot young thing?

Because I live in Los Angeles, I too have faced the age thing, but I can’t let it bother me. By the way, at forty-one, I am a young member of the Actors Studio West Playwrights and Directors Lab. I also have a few lines and wrinkles, but I earned those and never plan to give them up.

Besides, great plays can be written at any age. This statement led me to wonder how old the playwrights were when some of these great plays were written. To wikipedia I went!

So Kitty, before you put yourself out to pasture at the ripe old age of cough-cough-cough, please indulge in a few facts about some classics.

It is believed that William Shakespeare was forty-six when he wrote The Tempest. Now, sure, he had written a lot of plays before that one, and he had his own theatre, and he had the patronage of the Queen, but still he lived in a time before indoor plumbing.

Henrik Ibsen was sixty-two when Hedda Gabler was produced. Then, two years later, came The Master Builder.

Anton Chekhov died at age forty-four, so, well, moving on.

Samuel Beckett was forty-two when he was writing Waiting for Godot.

Moving over to America (where nobody gets old). . .

Eugene O’Neill wrote A Long Day’s Journey Into Night at the age of fifty-three.

Arthur Miller was thirty-three when he started Death of A Salesman. He was writing plays well into this eighties.

Finally, let’s end it with a woman, Maria Irene Fornes’s play, Letters from Cuba, which is the only play that ever made me cry with joy, was produced when the playwright was seventy. Fornes is still alive on this planet, and that’s good.

Minimalism

playwriting,

 

This morning, I was very excited to read in the New York Times that half of the movies at Sundance were directed by women this year. Half. Yay! Now, yes, it’s Sundance and not mainstream American cinema, but lately I’ve become a big fan of just taking a minute and saying yay! Yay! Okay moving on.

Today I want to talk about minimalism and what it means to me.

According to my old Webster’s dictionary, minimalism has two definitions. First, minimalism is an action of a minimal or conservative kind. Second, minimalism is a movement in art, dance, music, etc., beginning in the 1960s in which only the simplest design, structure, forms etc are used often repetitiously, and the artist’s individuality is minimized.

Minimalism has been around for awhile, so I’m not inventing anything new. When I think about minimalism in theatre, I think about no or simple set, few props, simple costumes. Basically, I see minimalism as theatre without the fluff. As someone who grew up watching Opera and those big Broadway musicals, I now am interested in just taking it down to the essentials.

I have many motivations for turning to minimalism. First, it’s cheap to produce, and I am tired of tracking down props for readings and workshops. Yes, I know it shouldn’t be my responsibility as playwright, but it is my responsibility as playwright. Second, when working with very little on the page, I force myself to find clarity. I don’t have any illusions to hide behind. Third, aesthetically, I’ve always liked clean lines in painting and architecture. Even though the play can have its messes, the simplicity of actors on a stage focuses my attention. Finally, it’s hard. I always seem to do things the hard way. I am finding that writing things minimally requires a lot discipline and intellectual rigor. Because the actors have nothing on stage with them, I gotta give them something to play.

Why did I start doing minimalism? Lately, I’ve been writing a lot of short plays for evenings of short plays. As an audience member, I have found that such evenings lose their momentum when furniture has to be carried on and off. Transitions are just as important as the tiny dramatic events that take place. However, if the short play has no furniture, it can start right after the last one.

After writing some shorts, I decided to write minimally in longer pieces. I have found that the writing process has become much more interesting. Because I am not weighed down by stuff, I can fly on the page. I like that.

So that’s just a brief summary of how I’ve been writing during the last few months. If you want to try your hand at minimalism, take a scene you wrote which you consider a failure and take everything out of it. Take it down to the actors speaking the words. Now, you are halfway there. Next, think visually and physically. Using physically, how can you visually show the point you are trying to make? What is the point you are trying to make? How can you show a scene that might take two pages in a half a page? How can you balance an elephant on the tip of a pin? How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?

 

Christmas Blessings

playwriting, ,

I have a confession to make – my initial reaction at blogging over Christmas was “What?  But I’ve got candy to eat and hug family and watch Holiday movies on repeat!! ”  But then I realized that it might be the perfect time to sit down and tap out some sentiment… I mean, last time I was blogging for the LAFPI, I was pretty much crying in my beer – feeling very overwhelmed and under-creative.

Then I co-produced a short play festival with my The@trics partner, and my groove came back with a vengeance!

There really is a lot to be said for donning the producer cap once in a while – it helps alleviate that dark and bitter sense of atrophy that a playwright can develop under the right circumstance (I’m broke, I don’t have the job I want, I don’t have time to write, I am tired of eating cereal for diner… you know what I’m talking about here).  Producing gets you our of the house, our of your pajamas, and away from the mini-bar.  You are busy!  You are working on a completed project!  You are part of something that is actually-by-God coming to fruition!

And it is empowering!

But it wasn’t just the “productivity” that pulled me out of my funk – it was the impact of the production itself that was inspiring!   Here were plays that were written to raise money for a local non-profit. Here were plays that by there very writing, mattered!  They weren’t just something written to suit a playwright’s fancies… they were written to get butts in seats so that the Coalition for Compassion and Justice in Prescott, AZ, could fund their poverty relief programs… these plays were written to help people… a purpose which, combined with all the creativity and passion behind/within/around it, reminded me of the power of theatre.

And that, dear reader, is what I needed to remember- what I needed to feel again, in my bones… I needed to feel the hum and throb and pull of the “why” of it all.

For why else do we write, but to make a difference?  Be it through laughter or revelation, catharsis comes to a hungry audience through the collaboration of many impassioned creationists… And I finally feel the passion coming back… driving me to sit back down and create!