About DIALOGUE

     In a recent discussion group for playwrights, the conversation turned to the subject of how dialogue should look on the scripted page. One individual stated that dialogue on paper should please the printer, i.e., the words are spelled correctly, and the sentences are grammatically correct. Another individual concurred, adding that improperly spelled words would automatically be corrected by the proof reader, and, if uncorrected, would draw attention of the reader to the seeming error rather than to what the playwright might actually be saying.

     I absolutely disagree with both of these viewpoints.

     First, let’s take a look at how thoughts are communicated in spoken words. (And spoken words, as playwrights, are our stock in trade.) Spoken words and written words are not the same. In normal day-to-day conversation, generally a speaker will say only enough to get his or her message across, and then stop speaking. Most of what is being said may be in complete sentences, true enough, but a part of this rhetoric may also be in fragmented sentences. Indeed, portions of what is being “said” may not be in words at all, but in gestures and body language. Further, people rarely say combinations of words the way they are written. For example, if you were to tell someone you are going to the store, that’s how you would write it – “I’m going to the store.” If you were telling someone, you might say “I’m goin’ t’ th’ store.”

     Another misapprehension is that playwrights create characters. They do not. Actors create characters. Playwrights suggest characters. The choices of words, the rhythm of the words, the pace, the slang, the actual number of words in a sentence, the phonetically (as opposed to incorrectly) spelling of words – all these things help an actor visualize a character from whom these words, gestures, and thoughts, would believably flow. (You don’t believe me? Take a Shakespeare soliloquy, give it to an actor, and have him read it back to you. Then give the same soliloquy to your next-door neighbor. In both cases the words are the same. Who created the character?) Perhaps this is an unfair comparison, but the point is this; words flow from character, not the other way around.

     And so – simple enough – when a playwright places dialogue on paper, he or she is communicating directly to the imagination of the reader, asking that reader to hear the words being spoken the same way the playwright hears them. Toward that goal, there are no rules, no uniform structure, no ridged grammar. Whatever works is what works.

     Thoughts?        

OF MICE AND MEN final

I kept five of the slats that made up part of the wall in the barn. They now hang in my living room.

j

Set Design

I'm most comfortable with the play ZACK, which I'm next scheduled to direct. It is a silly comedy in the best British tradition ... (and absolutely nobody does silly tradition on purpose better than the British.)

It bothered me somewhat that, the way the play is constructed, funny sequences are implied, occurring off stage. (Not at all uncommon for plays written in the 1930's.) 

So I have designed a set where silly can be appreciated to the fullest extent.

j

MORGAN update

In February of 2010 I submitted a post regarding the (then) present disposition of a play I had written years before, but until then had never released. The play is titled MORGAN and to this day remains a passion in my life.

It’s funny how some things come into being. My young daughter and I had been watching one of the many dreary King Arthur movies on television, when she turned to me and asked, “Morgan le Fay? Who is HE?”

I answered as best I could, but in the back of my mind I was already envisioning a play that would justify that question.

Before I put a single word on paper, I spent three years reading every novel, history, and commentary I could find regarding the literary Arthur Pendragon and his estranged half-sister, Morgan. (There’s reasonable evidence to suggest that an “Arthur” actually lived, and that he was so far removed from the legend as to be almost unrecognizable.)

I made a couple of interesting discoveries.

The first – a somewhat humbling realization. In 6th century England there were both crude and sophisticated civilizations, religions, and codes of conduct. Intelligent thought was in evidence. My country has yet to HAVE a 6th century. During the time of Arthur, where I live was swamp lands – Indians hadn’t even reached here.

The other discovery was more to the point. Throughout most of the narratives, there is a recurrent theme along these lines; Morgan was evil, a schemer, a witch, jealous of her half-brother, and constantly plotting his downfall for never fully explained reasons. Eventually Arthur “wins,” but only after prolonged struggle and cost (including his life.)

I soon realized the problem started with Arthur. He was ultimately the winner, and history is almost always written by the last group standing. The truth, as I discovered, is that Morgan was the victim in every sense of the word. As a child she witnessed her lands taken away, her father killed, and her mother raped. To put it in modern terms, Morgan witnessed a terrorist attack.

So that became Act I of my play.

Act II chronicles Morgan’s rise to power. It seems reasonable (as literature) to suggest that Druids existed at that time, that Merlin was a Druid High Priest, and that they wielded real mystical power. Morgan, being a woman, realized her only opportunity to effect justice was by embracing black arts. She became second only to Merlin, and outlasted him.

Act III follows her descent into madness and the suggestion of recovery. She became an absolute power, and “absolute power corrupts absolutely.” She became Hitler at his worst. With the death of Arthur she loses her powers and there is an implication that she could eventually regain a degree of sanity.

The play ends with an irony. Without her constant prodding, Arthur would have been nothing. If left in peace, he would have been an insignificant king of a lackluster kingdom, one in a long line of dusty footnotes. Instead of destroying him, she directly and indirectly created the legend.

Now you have the picture. It’s a large and complex work. No theatre I know is capable of producing it. (Key words here are “I know.”) About a year ago I was discussing the language in the play with a friend who produces mainly Shakespeare plays. She asked to read it, and a month later asked if I would allow the work to be considered for production by them.

I agreed, made note of it in a blog, and then forgot about it.

A couple of days ago one of my favorite commentators asked for an update. Here it is.

In November the Shakespeare producer contacted me and said her company would produce the play if I would direct. Since at the time I was neck deep in the RICHARD III production, I postponed answering.

And that’s where I am now. I don’t know if I want to do this.

I just don’t know.


j

Lucy, I'm home!

I discovered YouTube. I watched stuff. And more stuff. And more stuff. I glutted on stuff. Wow. Sam? I'm disappointed you didn't tell me. Is there anything else out there I should know about?

Julie, my often writing partner, showed me a book about tiny houses on wheels, so for the past while I’ve been mentally touring Europe, stealing chickens from rich people, and watching sad-eyed women dancing around the evening camp fire. Sometimes I think I was born about 400 years too late.

I discovered comments from you were no longer coming to my email, but were now being stored in an inane section of my blog called “comments.” I published everything I read, and sent Blogger a few comments of my own in the best tradition of Mel Gibson. (Speaking of which, Kari, you are absolutely correct. I wasn’t trying to excuse anything, just pointing out that we love to rush to judgment. Malmesbury, you constantly enrich my blog with your visits. I’m humbled by your astute observations.)

And I’ve been busy with what is supposedly my vocation/avocation (depending on who’s paying at the moment.)

My play on commission is finished. I hate parts of it with a genuine purple passion, but in re-write I’ll improve the work and annoy actors at the same time. It’s a win-win situation.

The other play I’m writing is going much slower. This is a work of love, so I’m purposely caressing it, sometimes with one single word nestled carefully behind another.

For those who tuned in late, I’ve been hired to direct a production of RICHARD III for a local theatre in November. Rehearsals will start in a few weeks, and already a number of performers have started breathing heavy. (It’s going to be a truly scary play – several of the characters carry real daggers. Hopefully they will only stab each other or themselves, and not anyone who paid to see the show.)

This same theatre has now asked me to direct two other plays. The first is called ZACK, scheduled for production in May of 2011, and – to my surprise – one of my own plays, to follow in August of 2011. Okay …
And that’s about all for now. I feel greatly unburdened. Thank you so very much for hanging in there with me.


j

Comments On A Mind Set.

In the Spring of this year I was invited by Theatre Vault website to submit an article listing areas and directions where Community Theatre (in a general sense) could stand improvement.

I responded, pointing out my favorite picky details that have slightly dented a 55-year love affair with good and great theatrical experiences.

Apparently my article was acceptable to the regular readers of Theatre Vault. (Nobody was breathing heavily at my front door.) And, a few weeks ago, the Editor of the TV website invited me to submit another article along the same lines.

This time I hesitated. For one thing, I felt I had adequately covered the subject the first time around. There’s a fine line between constructive criticism and theatre bashing, and I’ve been on the receiving end of spurious attack enough times to not wish to inflict that on anybody else.

But I changed my mind. In response to a recent less than glowing review of mine, a reader pointedly reminded me that I was “reviewing a community theatre production, and not Broadway’s latest and greatest.”

I found this comment to be demeaning, not only to the theatre group he supports, but also to the community of non-professional theatres as a whole.

And I’ve heard it before. “It’s just community theatre.” To imply that one standard should or does exist for professional theatre and a lower one exists for community theatre is to suggest that the many incredibly gifted performers in community theatre are not good enough to stand equal to their paid brothers and sisters.

In fact, almost the opposite is true. There are over 40 theatrical organizations in this city, all fighting for the same dollars and patrons. No group is going to survive without constantly challenging the others to improve. Furthermore, many years ago the area went off the “A” list for professional touring companies, simply because they knew they couldn’t compete with both the quality and quantity of local presentations. Only in the areas of elaborately staged large musicals will you see much in the way of professional theatre here, and even these groups don’t always make a profit.

The bottom line is simply this; there’s only one standard. As an audience member, if you like a show, it’s good. If you don’t, it isn’t. It’s as simple as that. Your judgment should be based solely on taste and experience, without qualifications. If you are working on a show, and have the mind set that it’s “just community theatre,” the show is dead already. Make it the best it can possibly be, and settle for nothing less. Invite – even dare – comparisons to anybody. A positive, rather than defensive, attitude is everything.

j

BCTCO Playwriting Competition

I've just been elected to the board of a theatre company. With the thought of actually contributing something, at the first meeting I suggested they start a playwriting competition. They liked the idea. Here 'tis.

BCTCO Playwriting Competition

Bread & Circus Theatre Company (BCTCO) is pleased to announce its first ever playwriting competition. From submitted manuscripts, the theatre will produce an original play in August, 2010

This competition is open to all playwrights.

Only full-length plays will be accepted, submitted in standard script format.

Scripts may be submitted via e-mail to bctcocontest@gmail.com or by mailing a hard copy to:

BCTCO CONTEST
188 Midcliff Drive
Columbus, Ohio 43213

Entries for the 2010-2011 season must be received by midnight on June 15, 2010. Hard copies submitted will be returned only if accompanied by an SASE with sufficient postage.

The winner will be announced in the July Bread & Circus Newsletter.

There are no fees or other requirements to enter this competition; however, guidelines for entries are the same as for any other play produced at Bread & Circus.

• We are a family oriented theatre. Profanity and nudity are discouraged.

• We have limited stage space, so plays with multiple settings, while not automatically rejected, are not encouraged. We favor plays with simple or one-set requirements.

For further information, contact Bread & Circus Theatre Company at bctco1@gmail.com or call 614-470-4895.

Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent ...

Yeah, yeah, you’re undoubtedly going to hear a lot about this in the next few months. But the story so far has been unique in my experiences – so I thought I’d share some observations as I go along …

Some time ago, around Christmas I think, a theatre I frequent announced their 2010-2011 season. I like this little group, gutsy they are – normally their offerings are lesser known works by famous playwrights, and occasionally they throw in a classic – last season it was Shaw, this season Noel Coward, and starting in the Fall, Shakespeare.

I remember hearing me say it. I was talking to the Artistic Director and said,
“Wow! You’re doing Richard the Third? I’ve always wanted to do Richard the Third!”

So now I’m directing Richard the Third. And what’s the moral here? Altogether now:

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR!

So in December of 2009 I was contracted to direct R3 in November 2010.

Fine. Eleven months to think and plan.

And worry. What have I done?! This is Shakespeare. Shakespeare! Who in their right mind would trust me with arguably the greatest playwright who ever lived? I had (and have) visions of the British cutting off diplomatic relations, and blockading harbors, and unmanned aircraft being aimed at the theatre, and Sean Connery telling me he saw the show and was shaken but not stirred …

And they would be so right. Benny Hill is my inspiration. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod what have I done?

Here was my first hurtle. I was handed the script, and told to cut 45 pages out of it.

What?!

“It’s long,” I was told. “Lots of repetition. Lots of references to people nobody cares about. You'll have fun.”

Oh-h-h-h-h …

So I cut 42 pages. I have, after all, some principles. Maybe, with luck, when I die I’ll only be sent to the fifth level of hell …

In April the theatre held unified auditions, meaning they cast not a show, but a season. Out of the 44 characters written into R3, I was able to cast three – all women. Whatever you think of Willie S, he wrote strong women characters. The three actresses I have could eat their male counterparts for lunch.

And that’s where I am at the moment. There’s more – much more. Actors shy away (Ha!) and now I’ve learned that three productions of the same play are going to be produced roughly at the same time in the same city.

Can it get any better than this?


j

Soft You Now ...

Script Frenzy has ended. They wanted 100 pages in 30 days, they got 104 pages in 28 days. They gave Julie and I a logo saying that we are winners (as opposed to the one that simply concedes that we would be capable of covering a good sized wall with words ..

I have mostly sort of completed casting for the production of RICHARD III that I'm scheduled to direct in the fall. It was a surprise, then, when I stumbled across auditions mentioned on Facebook. Oops - auditions are for another company. I forgot that THREE productions of the play are scheduled to open within weeks of each other. (Who came up with that idea?)

I just finished seeing RENT, and writing reviews for A THOUSAND CLOWNS and I NEVER SANG FOR MY FATHER. My fingers hurt.

I am unaware of any politicians doing anything profoundly outrageous so far today, resulting in no heavy breathing on my part (and no cause for consternation and/or bemused interest from friends who live in civilized countries.).

Julie is off swatting at the windmill down the street, and the gauntlet Q threw at my feet I will pick up - tomorrow.

For the moment, then, the sun is shining and the weather is balmy warm. I'm going to take my drink, sit in the lawn chair I should have taken in last fall, and just smell the dandelions.


j

Bringing You Up To Date

The 30th (and hopefully final) re-write of MORGAN is complete, and a copy of the 124 page play has been mailed to a producer who has expressed an interest in reading it.










Another play, ELYCE TIMES ONE, co-authored by Julie Morrison and me, is presently being considered by two local theatres. Both groups have promised to get back to me sometime in March, as to whether either is interested in producing it sometime soon. A third theatre has guaranteed production in the summer of 2011, if someone else doesn’t do it first. (Although the play is complete, it has been offered as a works-in-progress, with the idea of re-writes likely afterwards.) All three theatres are in favor of producing the play, because (1) it would be out of their regular season, (2) it’s a comparatively inexpensive play to produce, and (3) whoever eventually gets it will apply – and likely get – serious grant money.

Also in March my agent tells me one of my earlier plays is still scheduled to be produced at a theatre in Glasgow, Scotland. (No, I’m not planning to go see it. Just send me money – or pounds – or Euros. I don’t care, I’m not fussy.)

My next assignments to review plays for Theatre Vault are March 5th and 6th. I’m going to see TRACKS IN THE SNOW on Friday, and SIX DANCE LESSONS IN SIX WEEKS on Saturday.

Someone has asked to moderate my writer’s group in March. He’s going to lead a discussion on how to write action scenes. Good. Nothing here I need prepare for.

Julie and I have discussed another writing collaboration – likely to start in April.

I have no directing assignments until fall. Yea.

So.

What does this all mean? It means I have an entire week of writing or not writing. I have two works partially completed. (One is three-quarters done. I’m on the last page of the other one – I can’t come up with a good way to END the dumb thing!)

Or, I don’t know, maybe I’ll just do something silly, like – I don’t know – maybe I’ll read something somebody else has written, like a book or something like that. Is that too drastic? I could start with comic strips and work my way up. Do they still draw comic strips?

Or maybe I’ll take long walks. I used to enjoy that. And if I’m not boiling over a plot outline in my mind, I don’t get lost nearly as often.

Or maybe I’ll just sleep. I have a new pillow. I hate it. But I’ve been beating it regularly with a baseball bat, and I ran over it twice with the car, so it doesn’t feel so much like a truck tire in a pillowcase any more.

Or I could shovel the sidewalk … naw, forget that one.

I know! I’ll write a post on this blog explaining why I’m not … writing … anything.

Hmmm.

I know what I’ll do – I’ll think about it. That’s what Ill do – I'll think about it.

Tomorrow. Maybe.


jb


And how was your day?

MORGAN!

MORGAN is a biography of Morgan le Fay, King Arthur's half sister.

Re-write number 30 was completed today. I've been working on this play for almost exactly 25 years.

After the 6th complete revision, the work won a regional contest and received a public reading at a college in Southern Ohio.

I wasn't happy with what I had written. I withdrew the play, picked away at it every once in awhile. I never offered it to any theatre with the idea of having it produced.

I wasn't sure if any theatre would or could produce it. The language, so far as I could make it, is in antiquated English. And the setting is large.

But I kept working on it. Working on it was fun. I think I've created something that might actually be literature. (But please don't tell anybody.)

I stopped after the 29th re-write. The 29th re-write was still on a typewriter, and typing a 122 page play 29 times was not fun.

So it became something to be read.

Now somebody is interested in reading it. This person runs a theatre specializing in Shakespeare plays and the like.

Hmmm.

So re-write number 30 just went by. On a computer.

I'll let you know if there's any breaking news.


jb

Life Upon The Wicked Stage

After some discussion with the publisher, I submitted an article to the Theatre Vault website. If it is received well (or at all), it will likely be the first of several by various contributors. I've included it here because (1. I liked it), and (2. There's some truth in there.) If you have any thoughts in these directions, lemme know. I can always go for Part 2 ...

Many good things happened in Columbus community theatre in 2009. There is a breathtaking amount of talent out there. Often the only differences between professional and non-professional theatre are those nuances we tend to rationalize as “that’s just the way it is.”

Sorry, I don’t buy that. “Just the way it is” is an excuse for lack of imagination in one area or another. And so, with the thought of building up rather than tearing down, we point out some of the consistent problems community theatres choose not to address whenever possible.

In other words, here’s our first “this sucks” community theatre experiences for 2009.

I saw three musicals this year. In two of them I watched people lacking in muscle tone and rhythm while they stomped around a stage in an homage to the Frankenstein monster. Sorry, that’s not dancing. Embarrassing is what it is, and one of the reasons many people label community theatre as “amateur.”

Along the same line, dressing fat people in tight clothes does not make them look like dancers - it makes them look like fat people dressed in tight clothes.

The majority of shows I saw incorporated set changes that were more involved than the show they bridged. Please don’t do that. It takes time and nobody really cares.

I saw four plays this year that were written between a hundred and four hundred years ago. I suffered through a number of performers who had no idea what the meanings were behind the words they were speaking. Theatre managers, if you have any mercy for your audiences at all, give these people chloroform just before they perform. Better still, give it to us.

I saw one play this year where an episode of a television show had been performed as a stage play. The original script writers are now deceased. Rightly so.

I observed one community theatre that flatly turned down free publicity in the form of play reviews. This is sad on so many levels.

jb

A Dichotomy

Okay. Enough people have asked about this drama critic post that …

(Asked? Asked?! Does sniggering count as “asked?” Does … never mind.)

Ever wonder how these things get started? I mean, I write plays. That’s all. I write plays, and after I write a play I look around for a theatre to produce it. I watch the audience during the performances. Where and how do they react? Where do I need to re-write?

This has been my routine for a long time. Write, critique my musings during a below-the-radar run, re-write, email the finished product to a contest, a commission, or to my alleged agent six or seven states away.

Simple.

Well, almost.

The middle part takes a little work. You know, the part about looking around for a theatre to produce an unknown work for the first time – that few people will come to see – and will not make a dime in profit for the theatre.

“The Sound of Music pays for our entire season.”

“Yeah yeah.”

So I do what I do. I sit on committees in any of four small theatres within driving distance. I help build sets. I take tickets. It’s fun. And I direct plays. It pays. And in the back of my mind I keep thinking, “here are actors for a reading, here is a theatre …”

Ya still with me? I’m building my case here.

I’ve found that if I aggressively promote a theatre, ultimately it works in my favor. For example, many times the plays I direct become critically and financially successful. As a result, my next audition attracts more gifted and experienced performers. Then, because I have a cast that is gifted and experienced, my next show stands a better chance of becoming successful. That’s how that goes, and I've always been open about acknowledging the formula.

And so it was with the last show I directed, Inherit The Wind. It was an outstanding show, thanks in large part to casting some of the best (and most well know) actors available. I found that promotion of the play did not include any reviews. Simply, the theatre felt that the reviewers and critics in this city are so unqualified (for one reason or another.) that no reviews would be accepted from anyone.

I was shocked. It occurred to me (naively) that even a bad review is better than none at all. What do I know? Since my agent is on the West Coast, (and I’m not), it’s been years since one of my plays has been locally judged by anyone but me.

If the problem was a lack of trust in the critic, it occurred to me that here was something I might be able to fix. Years ago I was the drama critic for a smallish newspaper chain and a television station. I specialized in covering the theatres nobody else wanted, and was held in high regard by the very theatres I now frequent. At the time, I stopped reviewing because, as a playwright, I felt like I was reviewing what I should be doing.

I stopped for another reason, as well.

For the most part, I consider drama critics to be lower than pond scum. They have little in the way of integrity – everything is subjective. Newspaper drama critics are journalists. This does not automatically qualify them to critique theatre, and they are hired – and evaluated – by people who know even less. Many critics are arrogant and condescending. There’s no way to challenge their opinions – once it’s in print, the game is over. Further, five out of six critics know they must build a following in order to keep a job. There are only so many ways you can say something positive about a performance or a show. However there are an almost infinite number of ways you can destroy a show or a theatre, and at the same time make yourself appear clever and witty and powerful. They ignore the fact that the primary responsibility is to critique, not criticize – that the true goal is to improve the quality of the craft. Unfortunately, I believe that local critics are literary vampires – their primary urges are to suck the life out of any group that incurs disfavor.

I hope I haven’t been too subtle in expressing my opinion of those who work in this, the next to oldest profession.

One final thing here has kept me moving forward. In contacting various publishing groups, I stumbled across several theatre websites – I never knew these even existed. One in particular caught my attention - publishing not only reviews, but auditions, feature articles, and whatever strikes the fancy of the various contributors. I was impressed, and courted them openly. Although I hold drama critics – myself included – in low regard , it pleases me to promote, wherever and however, the art and craft of which I am a part.
jb

The lowest aspect of theatre ...

sigh ...

Hate to admit it ...

... but I don't want you to hear it from someone else ...

I am now a contributing drama critic for a theatre website.

That's what happens, I suppose, when you associate with some of those people for awhile ...

I mean, what can I do? Are there shots you can take for something like that?

(I guess the only saving grace is that I'm doing it under another name,)

Whew!

jb

Last Call.

For those who may have wandered into this saga late, INHERIT THE WIND officially opened this past weekend. The house was slightly more than seventy per cent filled (and for Halloween, this was wonderful. What producer in his or her right mind would open a play on HALLOWEEN?!)

Here’s the cast as they appeared during one of the later rehearsals. Notice few are in costume. With thirty-four people in the cast, the only times we got everybody together on the stage was for performances. Oh well …




Here’s the setting as it was appeared on opening night. In a few places the paint is still wet.

It is my hope that, sometime before we close this thing, I might actually take pictures of all the performers TOGETHER, IN COSTUME, ON THE STAGE!

(Insert heavy breathing here.)

I mean, is that too much to ask?

On the other hand, here's the important part - the show went well, and was received with favorable reviews and glowing individual comments. Since the lead performers are highly respected throughout the state, I anticipate that we will have a most profitable run in every sense of the word.

jb


And how was your day?

THE TEAPOT COLLECTOR

Okay, so I've been telling you for awhile now that I've been heavy breathing over the completion of this play, right?

Yeah, I did. I remember me doing it.

What I may not have mentioned to you is that I entered the first 15 pages of the play in The Writers Digest national play writing competition. (I know I didn't mention to them that I'd only completed 20 pages at the time.)

So ... anyway ... yesterday I received a letter from them, informing me that my play had received an "Honorable Mention."

(Profound relief here. They didn't actually want to read the completed work.)

And, in case I should consider "Honorable Mention" as less that a memorable consolation, the editor of Writers Digest further defined my play as judged to be in the top 100 of the 13,581 plays that had been entered in the competition.

So ... don't get me wrong. I'm honored by their recognition. (I'd rather have won, but I'm still honored.)

And I can't help but wonder if there was any prize given to the poor soul who had to actually read 13,581 plays ...


jb


And how was your day?

First Look

INHERIT THE WIND in rehearsal on the partially completed set.

The Life That Late I Led.

I’m still here. Not much voice, but I’m still here.

It’s been an interesting few weeks. Fortunately I’ve had Wednesday and Thursday off, as well as the week-end. (Good thing. Thanks to the dog I must now rip up what remains of the carpet on the stairs and upper hall.) I planned on refinishing the wood floors in about a year from now … The dog decided that now would be more appropriate.

(Have you ever heard of a dog that EATS carpet? I mean, for real?)

The play INHERIT THE WIND is moving along. (Okay, so that’s not the smoothest transition in the world.) I presently have 31 people in the cast. When you consider that the stage of this theatre is 26 feet wide, it makes for creative directing. (Contrast that with the show I just closed, HARVEY, with 11 in the cast on a stage 38 feet wide.) For the past couple of weeks we’ve been thrashing around in a rehearsal hall. Tuesday we move onto the actual theatre stage, and I’ll give you the blow-by-blow as it occurs.

Tomorrow (actually later today) I’m going to Cleveland Ohio for a three day writer’s retreat. This is a good thing. Directing plays written by other people is fun (and pays well), but during these periods I write very little, if anything. I was reading The Inflammatory Writ the other day, and commented to the author that her subject matter would make a good play, with the implication that she should write it. She simply replied that everything is a play. That hit me, because she is so right. It also occurred to me that if I truly felt the material was worth developing, why was I asking someone else to do it? I need to get back to writing.

In mid October I’m conducting an acting seminar to benefit a struggling theatre in a city about thirty miles east of here. It’s a petite facility. Although they stage wonderful productions, they seat at most 30 people. Consequently, they are always hungry (And – let’s face it. They are interested in producing one of my plays, and if a seminar will encourage them in the right direction, well …) I received a copy of their ad for the seminar, and was jolted. They are charging 40 dollars a head for people to hear me speak for three hours. Uh … I, uh, certainly don’t expect to see many from the crowd I run around with …

And then there’s that. I miss the people I follow and those who follow me. They haven’t left – I’m the one who pulled away, to swat for a period at theatrical windmills. Suddenly I feel the loss. I do miss you, and I will be back …until the next flight of fancy takes me in another capricious direction.

But you know that, don’t you?

Okay, I wasn't gonna do this, but you forced me. The first twenty of my friends who respond will receive, at no additional cost, one slightly chewed square of carpet ...

jb

.....

Oh-h-h-h ...

I am sick. So-o-o-o sick. I have a sore throat to the point where I can't talk.

(Although I've discovered that if you consume an entire box of throat lozenges at one time, not only can you babble incoherently with no effort, but you can also fly for short distances.)

Problem is, I'm directing a show, right? I'm being PAID to direct a show. And I've learned that directing and conducting are not the same thing at all.

Directing is when you instruct people to move here or there, by example and by verbal instruction.

Conducting, I've discovered, is when you wave at an actor on stage, resulting in one of two reactions.

(1) The actor gets the standard "deer in the headlights" look, points to him or herself, and mouths the words "Who? Me?"

(2) The actor drops out of character, smiles because you've singled him or her out ... and waves back.

Ya see why I like writing plays better than directing 'em? I only fight with myself!

(But that's another story altogether.)


jb

And how was your day?

Closure

I like stories that are finished.

HARVEY closed this past Saturday. It was a good show, and had a good run. Directing the production was a pleasure.

When I left the theatre (at a little after 2:00 AM) - literally as I was walking out the door, on impulse I turned and took one final picture of what had been my set.



All this is entirely appropriate. One of the people on the stage is Tina Gleason. Tina is a friend, and the director of the next play this theatre will produce, ON GOLDEN POND. Following her will be the musical version of the Dr. Jekyll story, and we will all end up as bound photo albums gathering dust and fingerprints in the lobby.

I'm now a week into rehearsal for INHERIT THE WIND at another theatre. Their present play, THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST, has another week to run.

When they close, I'll be there to help tear down the set.

For everything there is a season.


jb

And how was your day?