Tag Archives: playwriting

My new standard for when a play is working

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I’m going crazy over the amount of texting going on in the theatre these days. Do people not imagine it’s driving those around them crazy?

I saw a very bad production of Jon Jory’s not very inventive adaptation of “Pride and Prejudice” in Orlando back in February. (more on this tomorrow)  People were taking phone calls, texting, even some joker on the far side of the theatre was sending messages, the light of his phone was brighter than the stage lights.

I even chewed out one young theatre goer in Silver Spring at a matinee last month.  I’m becoming the crabby old lady I always accused my mother of being.

But then I realized the only time people were taking out their phones was when the play dragged. Nothing interesting was happening onstage. They were bored. And frankly, so was I.

I tested this theory at a few plays that really worked. No one reached for a cellphone. Not a single text.  

So here’s my new standard of finding out when a play is working well: when nobody even thinks about taking out their phone. They are too enthralled in the action of the play. They care about the characters. They want to know what happens next.

THAT’s the kind of play I want to write!

Writing Things Delightful

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Don’t say it was delightful; make us say “Delightful” when we’ve read the description. You see, all those words (horrifying, wonderful, hideous, exquisite) are only like saying to your readers “Please, will you do the job for me?“ – C.S. Lewis

I am in love with this quote.  As a writer of often fantastical worlds, I am constantly striving to paint my script descriptively enough while still allowing plenty of play room for my imagined designers and directors… And yet, I’ve often tried to steer clear of using these “adjectives” of awe, for Lewis’s exact reason; I mean, what kind of author would I be were I to limit my own imagination with oft-used phrases like such, rather than diving deeper into the “meat” of such a statement?

For what is more exciting :  She wanders into a scary woods. OR  She wanders into a forest, black with night and alive with a chorus of things that go bump in the night.

I mean, it’s a slap-dash example, but you get my point.

I’m working with a bunch of youngsters right now who have written plays (some of them their first) as entrants in our inaugural Young Playwrights Festival.  It’s thrilling and frightening, and exhilaratingly difficult – the people wrangling, the ego tending, and the director guiding…  Because as a playwright and a less-than-a-handful-under-her-belt director, I’ve not yet had the privilege of coordinating anything quite of this scale.  Yet, here I am, at the center of things, and I find that the switching of shoes (from hungry playwright, to playwright wrangler) I’m going to bat for these kids like a proud mama bear!

And I’m jonesing to take them all under my wings and whisper C.S. Lewis quotes to their novice ears and help them unlock the magic of playwriting so that next year their plays are even more exciting, more daring… more delightful.

But until my class opens in the Spring, I’m simply going to go on collecting these lovely little bits of commentary from the “Greats” – collect them, hold them close to my heart, and sigh at the glow they carry within.

And I’m going to try not to go crazy as we enter the final two weeks before the festival itself goes up… in all her new-born glory!

Over-Extended and Under-Funded: an Exercise in Remembering to BREATHE

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Breathing… Breathing…

I have to remember to breathe.

I’m producing a Young Playwrights Festival, and although I’ve headed up smaller such things before, all the people (and kiddo) wrangling has got me feeling a tad overwhelmed.  I mean, this is quite a bit different than wrangling characters and inventing location… this is tangible, frustratingly human, manuevering…

And it’s got me cringing at all the variables.

Which is why I need to remember to breathe… that it’s all going to be just fine…  That ultimately, all the worrying and fretting don’t actually do anything except make you miserable.

But I am sitting here, wondering how in the world I got myself so mightily committed overall – I mean, I’m earning a 19-hour a week paycheck at my “job” and probably logging an additional 25 a week for non-paying endeavors:  There’s the Festival (Gah!) and rehearsals for the show I’m directing, and the countless emails from the other directors and committee members and… woof!  Then there are my blogs – I have a personal space that allows me to pontificate periodically on anything from cat-hairs in my breakfast to the agony and love-lust of art – plus I edit a larger scale Los Angeles-centric blog-collective with a bunch of other writers (Ahem, and might I say, we’re always looking for more people to blog for us, my fellow scribes!)  And then I have my playwriting log – which consists of an ever increasing list of characters and plot-lines banging down my mental door, demanding to be paid attention to…

No wonder I’m tired!

So I’m sitting here, in the midst of things, wondering just when the heck I’m going to be able to pay Visa back (and Mastercard, and Discover…) from all my below-the-poverty line living, and actually manage to eek out some sort of existence that doesn’t land me gasping for air and sanity every Friday night as I clutch my empty wallet in shame over my under-funded dinner…

Woe. Is. The. Playwright.

And yet…

I can’t fathom having a laundry list of over-compensated-for tasks that looks like an accountant’s sheet… I can’t imagine finding happiness in a full-time paycheck if it was sans-flexibility for these things that alternately drive me crazy and flood me with joy… I NEED to be able to flit from project to project; writing, directing, producing, editing… I NEED THE UNCERTAINTY!   I just want to get paid better for it 😉

So… as I sit down at my desk and hammer out a few fumbling sentences here, I’d just like to tell the universe that I’m not complaining – not really.   I am so thankful for my life – I’d just like my life to start paying for itself so that I can afford the massages I need to soothe the worries my over-committments manifest and to move out of my parents house and into some big-girl living once again.

But until that happens, I guess I just have to continue to remind myself to B-R-E-A-T-H-E.

My Funny Little Valentine…

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What a week I have ahead of me… (actually, what a few weeks!)  I’m coordinating a play festival for young playwrights and directing one of the winning plays, as well as in the final three weeks of our Spring I session at NAU-Yavapai in which I’m teaching a class on “How to be a Master Student”…  My head is, as one says, spinning.

But that’s not what I want to talk about today, no, today I want to talk about my funny little Valentine…

Ooooooh, my sexy little MacBook Pro, where would I be without you?  Your shiny faux-metallic keys that spin a musical clackity-clack to tease even the most stubborn of ideas from hiding…  Your bright friendly screen reflecting a happy glow against even the most unpleasant of hours…  Your ability to “force close” programs at the drop of a cranky-ass-hat…  I can’t imagine, no, don’t WANT to imagine, where I would be without you!

When I think of all that we’ve accomplished together… The laughter and tears, the smiles and frustration, the agony of edits paired with the sweet joy of “BLACK OUT” pridefully blinking from the page –  Pages upon pages of jokes, banter, punches, flying props (and sometimes people) – I rejoice, I cheer, and I pray that you never, ever, ever, crash (like you did that one time) Because… sweet MacBook Pro… I think, I think I love you.

~Tiffany

Entry Level

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Yesterday I published an article for Bitter Lemons on the amazing way that Arena Stage, 2amtheatre and LA Stage Alliance* are working together to widen the dialogue on new plays.

That’s fascinating in and of itself – not my article, but all the detail and coverage that Arena Stage created and is creating, so that artists know what people are talking about and can contribute in a meaningful way.

Remember that.

Cut to later that day, and Dennis Baker announces that the LA satellite convening was relocated because of high attendance. It happened to be relocated to four blocks from my house, the site of the new Atwater Village Theatres, home to EST-LA and Circle X.

Not just convenient for me, but I amended the original article and then could post it on Atwater Village Now, gaining more exposure for both the event and the neighborhood. While writing it, though, I thought of my audience for Atwater Village Now and decided they might have no idea why a convening on new plays is important. If my goal was to interest those outside of theatre practitioners to find interest in the art and the craft, then I needed to write an entryway into the article. The Editor suggested I give some history, a small idea of how important this dialogue is for the national community, the theatrical community, and in some way give a larger importance to our community.

This was my introduction. I welcome feedback and suggestions in the comments:

With Broadway focused on revivals and musicals based on movies and star vehicles, new plays often go by the wayside. If you are an unknown playwright, it’s nearly impossible to be produced.

Not so at The Arena Stage, however, and they’ve been working intensely for a national dialogue that includes all voices – new playwrights, established playwrights, and the people who decide which plays are produced. Arena Stagey began a New Plays Convening yesterday in DC, and Los Angeles participates on Saturday, in our brand new Atwater Village Theatre!

*Full Disclosure: I also write for the LA Stage Times.

How do you invite laymen into the theatrical experience?

Now What?

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You know that idea, the one that rolls around in your head whenever you don’t want to concentrate on the project you actually should be writing?

Then one day someone gives you time and resources and says that idea sounds great for a workshop. At least, that’s how it happened for me.

Now what?

Nothing is written, perhaps some notes jotted, an image folder created on my desktop but still sparse: this is the state of that project.

I start by collecting source material, images, and just seeking as much research on the topic at hand as possible.

How do you start a dream project?

A Writing Assignment

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Kitty Felde – January 23, 2011

I work on Capitol Hill.  It’s a day job much like the theatre – lots of colorful characters and drama.  And mystery.

I’ve started collecting odd signs.  This one keeps haunting me…it sounds like the title of a play.  But I can’t imagine what it would be about.

So as I sign off this week, in the spirit of  leaving you with homework, I offer this sign as the title of the play you’ll never get around to writing.  Write a one paragraph synopsis – the annoying kind theatres keep demanding.  And this is your title:

The title of your next play

A Third Ear

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Kitty Felde – January 22, 2011

It’s so helpful to have someone else read your work. 

I know that’s obvious, but I’m always surprised when I do share my plays with someone else.  They see things in it that even I did not.  And ask questions that either I’ve been avoiding or never thought of asking myself.

The challenging part is finding the right person and the right environment. 

We’ve all been in situations where the feedback for the playwright was less than helpful.  I attend lots of readings.  (Yes, I know it’s a theatre’s excuse NOT to fully produce new work…) It’s helpful to me as a playwright to hear how someone else is tackling a problem and getting themselves out of it.  Or not.  And it’s easier for me to look objectively at THEIR work and see what needs to be done.   I’m rarely shy about sharing what I think is a helpful observation.

But I cringe in a feedback session when an audience member gushes, “don’t change a thing!”  Few plays don’t need a thing changed.  That kind of feedback is almost worse than a critique.

The hard part is listening with an objective ear.  And discarding most of what you’ve heard.  Those few nuggets that ring true are the ones to hold on to. 

But perhaps the most valuable third ear is that of a trusted dramaturg, director, or fellow playwright.  Not too many of them.  Too many voices can confuse and cause you to shut down completely.  But find the ones you trust.  

I miss my LA playwriting group, which was my group of third ears.  I haven’t yet found a group here in DC.  But my weekly Skype meetings with Omaha playwright Ellen Struve are my lifeline.  She sees things I have missed and asks questions I hadn’t thought of.  And she knows when to leave it alone until I can figure it out for myself. 

Do you have a trusted third ear?

Caffeine, please

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Kitty Felde – January 21, 2011

Time and energy seem to be my biggest obstacles to writing these days.  I have a day job where I’m writing a lot.  And running all over town.  And shocking though it may be to admit, I just don’t have as much energy as I used to.  

I consume vast amounts of tea and chocolate to fuel my writing periods, but it’s just not enough.  There aren’t enough hours in the day for work, exercise (ballet and swimming), opening the door for the cat, and kissing my husband.  Oh, and many days I’d much rather be pursuing my other creative outlet: sewing.  I can spend an entire weekend at my sewing machine and plan entire trips to various cities just to shop their fabric stores.  (My last trip to NYC was split between seeing theatre and seeing the Balenciaga exhibit and the costume exhibit at Lincoln Center.)

I’m trying to take the long view.  I’ve written ten plays over two decades.  I don’t have to do it all in 2011.  I am entitled to just sit around and be a vegetable sometimes.  I don’t have to write everyday. 

But that’s the rub, isn’t it?  On days when I don’t write, I’m not as nice a person to those around me.  Growl.

Guess I’ll summon the energy to write a few lines.

A Dream of a Play

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Kitty Felde – January 20, 2011

Have you ever dreamed about writing a fabulous play?  Usually such dreams involve a Tony or a string of productions or actors like Alec Baldwin and Colin Firth fighting to play roles in your work. 

But do we ever dream about the actual WRITING of a play? 

I did.

Of course, I can’t remember most of it.  But even in my sleeping state, I knew that I’d forget 99% of the wonderful plot devices, character development, sparkling dialogue, etc, etc.  So I kept telling myself in my dream to remember one thing.  Just one thing.  And when I woke up, that one thing is all I remembered.  It boiled down to two words: vegetable juggling.  Which actually meant something to me and made its way into a scene I was writing.

It’s the only time I’ve ever had this experience.  How about you?  Have you found a way to tap into your subconscious?  Tips, please!