A New Play

I'm working on a new play - a man running for re-election, and filled with self doubt. Here's the first few pages:

SCENE

AT RISE: Evening. Dark brooding shadows blanket the walls, with only defused light from distant windows to make the darkness uneven. Overhead lights cast unflattering pools of lights intermittently  around the portico floors. At rise MISTER PRESIDENT is standing quietly, lost in thought. CHARLIE enters.  

CHARLIE

(Speaking into a walkie-talkie.)

I found him. South Portico. No, it’s ok, we’re coming.

(To MISTER PRESIDENT)

Mister President? Excuse me, sir.

MISTER PRESIDENT

What is it, Charlie?

CHARLIE

We need to go back in.

MISTER PRESIDENT

I have my coat. It’s ok.

CHARLIE

They want to go over your speech one more time.

MISTER PRESIDENT

Oh. Well that’s nice.

CHARLIE

You’re on the air in twenty minutes.

MISTER PRESIDENT

I know.

CHARLIE

Twenty minutes.

 MISTER PRESIDENT

“Fellow Americans. Good evening. Buenas noches. Erev tov. Masa el-khair. This is your President speaking, and I’m taking this opportunity to formally announce that I am running for re-election. Now there’s a surprise. And why am I doing this? That is the question, isn’t it? Because the past four years have not been as bad as everyone predicted they would be, and the consensus of opinion now suggests that with me in office the next four years will more than likely be just about the same – and that’s not a bad thing, now is it? Because I’ve looked over the other candidates – I’m sure you have, too – and wondered just what rock most of them crawled out from under. I’m doing this because it’s expected I would do this.

(a pause)

 Because to do anything else would be to admit defeat - for some obscure reason a journalistic underling will create - in his spare time - on a Sunday afternoon fifteen years from now. I’m doing this because I enjoy bleeding – especially in public.” Did I say it right?

CHARLIE

I think you said it all.

MISTER PRESIDENT

I haven’t even started.

CHARLIE

You don’t really feel that way.

MISTER PRESIDENT

Sometimes, Charlie. Sometimes.

CHARLIE

You don’t intend to say anything like that on television, do you?

MISTER PRESIDENT

Probably not. No. Of course not.

CHARLIE

We should be going in.

MISTER PRESIDENT

Do you know what someone asked me the other day?

CHARLIE

When?

 MISTER PRESIDENT

The, uh, the national vegetable something festival. The kids? You remember.

CHARLIE

We should be going in.

MISTER PRESIDENT

Charlie. Humor me.

CHARLIE

I remember.

MISTER PRESIDENT

So there we are, sailing along smartly if I do say so myself, and they never once suspected the only way I recognize corn is because it says so on the can. I mean, I was born and raised in Detroit, for God’s sake, what did they expect?

(A pause)

And if you tell me one more time we should be going in, I will fire you on the spot.

(a pause)

So – anyway – we’re sailing through the Q and A section – yes, I have a dog, yes, his name is Herman, no, he does not sleep with me, and this little poop holds up one hand – red hair? Freckles? Looks like Howdy Doody? Google it. Anyway, I can already taste the dirty martini that’s waiting for me, when “Why do you want to be President again?” And this stops me dead in my tracks. Why did I want to be President again? Do you know who our greatest President was? Don’t answer that – I’ll tell you. George Washington. Thoughts?

CHARLIE

None I’d care to share at the moment.

MISTER PRESIDENT

Wise decision. Now I am aware that in saying that, scholars will most certainly disagree, and categorically declare Jefferson as our greatest President – or Lincoln, Roosevelt, whomever, and they will give you every reason in the world to support their assumptions. And they would be wrong. Washington was the man. And why? Because he served his term and then quit. He did his best in the time allotted to him by the Constitution and then packed up his bags and went home. The man could have been king! Certainly half the country wanted a king. But he knew – for the good of the nation he helped create – when it was time to step off the stage.

CHARLIE

Are you saying that’s what you should do?

 MISTER PRESIDENT

Thinking about it. Howdy Doody got me thinking about it. Why did I want to be President again? For that matter, why did I want to be president in the first place?  Four years ago I could tell you – did tell you. I want to be President because I have a vision for America – a passion. And the course of action is – was – so very very clear. Four years later the vision is not so clear. I want to … finish what I started. Something like that. Do you know the White House has a cook on staff twenty-four hours a day?

CHARLIE

Yes.

MISTER PRESIDENT

Honestly. I want to be re-elected because I hate the thought of giving up hot fudge sundaes at three-thirty in the morning. Real fudge – home made. Where do they come up with it? I don’t know. How’s that for incentive? Not only that, but – are you bored?

CHARLIE

No sir. Not a bit.

MISTER PRESIDENT

You yawned.

CHARLIE

No I didn’t. Sir. Respectfully.

MISTER PRESIDENT

If I’m boring you, the Governor of Pango-Pango is still complaining because he hasn’t found someone to clean the goose droppings off the capital steps on a regular basis. Say the magic word and the job is yours.

CHARLIE

Mister President …

MISTER PRESIDENT

(HE holds an imaginary cell phone to his ear and speaks into it.)

Hello Air Force? Do you have anything that on a good day might make it to the American Samoa Islands? Perfect. Thank you.

(HE puts the “phone” back in his pocket.)

CHARLIE

Mister President …

MISTER PRESIDENT

You’re in luck – booked first class on the Amelia Earhart Special. Non-stop. Well, …

CHARLIE

Paul …

MISTER PRESIDENT

Now that’s a low blow.

CHARLIE

Why are you doing this?

MISTER PRESIDENT

What?

CHARLIE

Bushido. Death before dishonor. You do it every time you run for office.

MISTER PRESIDENT

(I’m) Clueless.

CHARLIE

“If I’m not elected, I can claim I didn’t want the job in the first place.”

MISTER PRESIDENT

Charlie, Charlie …

CHARLIE

Forgive me, Mister President, but that’s the truth.

MISTER PRESIDENT

Mister President? What happened to “Paul?”

CHARLIE

A mistake. Won’t happen again.

Thoughts?

BEEN BUSY ...

     Sorry we haven't chatted in awhile.

     Writing has picked up considerably. So has exposure, apparently.

     I entered a short play in a local contest. It won a presentation, which was a week or so ago. I attended, and I must tell you, it's always a grand feeling when you see people saying your words, expressing your thoughts ...

     I entered TWO one-act plays in a contest in Atlanta, Georgia. This was months ago, and I have been told that both are still in consideration. ONE would be fine, but the chances that both are still in the running, well, that is rare indeed, and I am certainly honored.

     In mid summer I entered one of my better plays in the Writer's Digest Playwriting Competition. Results will be announcer in the Spring. Modestly, my plays have always placed well in this contest during previous years, and they graciously gush over my work. Still, who knows? Maybe somebody will see this one and do something ... (And why not? I'm having a good year so far.)

     A play I wrote for a competition in Indiana is also doing well. The man in charge has called me several times, and I'm impressed by how impressed HE is. I really do hope this one wins - serious money here.

     And all this has inspired me, at least to some degree. I'm in the process of writing a sequel to one of my earlier plays. Never done that before. Fun and very interesting.

     So there you have it - ego trip all the way, but I wanted you to know what's been going on in my life.

     As always, thanks for being there.

     j

A (somewhat) New Path

     I took back my life a few days ago.

     As a writer, I've enjoyed my share of success. Certainly I've seen a number of my plays produced. But there was always a quality to that effort - everything being a "hands on" experience, up to a point. Then I got my agent who lives in Oregon (I've had two agents as a playwright. The first one lived in South Carolina and worked tirelessly for me. seven days a week.) And, perhaps that's the point - my last agent was selective, allowing opportunities to pass that I felt should have been investigated. (On the other hand, he booked one of my plays at a theatre in Edinburgh Scotland I never thought would have happened, since in it I poke fun - lightly - at the Scots.) The point of all this is that my agent and I have parted company, and I am once again booking my own plays, making my own decisions (and keeping the 15% commission). Shall I find another agent? Of course. Eventually. In the meantime I'm looking, and finding the present situation not entirely unpleasant.

     And I'm starting a new play. The babe and I went to a Farmer's Market last weekend and I bought a loaf of bread from a charming baker who told me she loves her work, and would "bake bread 24 hours a day if (her) husband would let her." With that thought, I was hooked - and am in process of writing a one-act about a woman who gets up at 2:30 in the morning to start a loaf of bread baking, and then goes back to bed. The entire play is dialogue between husband and wife IN the bed. (And for those gentile readers who might be shocked about a play where a man and woman are in bed together, I would point out the fact that since they ARE married, there will not even be the suggestion of sex involved ...)

     For the first time in a goodly number of years, I'm not directing any plays, nor do I have any scheduled in the near future. I would never have thought this - lack - would bother me, but it does! (One of the great secrets of relaxation is to yell at actors for a couple of hours and then go somewhere and have a very dry martini.) As a point of interest, the last theatre I worked for just entered their first play in a contest without me. (They came in at a dismal last place ...)  

     Just this week I got back from visiting my new doctor ... (I've outlived my previous THREE. What does that tell you?} Anyway, I received a completely clean bill of health. (And this somewhat surprises me. I've rarely done anything to actually deserve that.

     ... except perhaps one thing. I love to walk, and am blessed with an abundance of parks nearby. Two days ago I found myself on a pier, half a mile in length, that surrounds a peninsula. The pier is just off shore, and if there's a purpose to it all, I certainly can't find it. There's not even a play here. Fiction, unlike reality, must make sense somewhere along the line.

     And how was YOUR day?


     j

Shameless plug time ...

My wife's novel, PAINTING THE RAIN, has now been published by Amazon.com for Kindle reading (or on iPad or use http://www.amazon.com/gp/kindle/pc/download to send it to your personal computer.) If you are interested, it can be found (easier) by looking for both the title AND the author (J.E. Ocean). It costs about $10.00 American to download, but the process is amazingly easy ... (And obviously so - I did it.)

The story is based on a play we co-authored, but she "fleshed out" the characters and plot to an absolutely amazing degree.

Of course I'm prejudiced, but from my own professional point of view, the work is gripping, and the climax both powerful and unique.

She is now working on the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th books. I can hardly wait.

j

PAINTING THE RAIN

My wife's book is scheduled to be available in the Kindle version on Amazon within the next five days.

This publishing business has certainly been an interesting experience for the both of us. PAINTING THE RAIN started as a play we co-authored. Later she decided to "flesh out" the story (adding 100,000 words ...). not knowing the finished work would go thru five editors - including myself, and result in a necessary Facebook website (J.E. Ocean), opening both a post office box and a separate bank account, and much correspondence, of course, with Amazon,. The past few days has been involved with graphic artists simply to create the book cover ... and the first reviewer has been requested.

I ... think I'm gonna stick with plays. I write, put it on a disc, send the work to somebody and they send money back. I like the simple life.

j

Beyond Mockingbird

     TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD closed well. We played largely for sold-out performances (even selling the box seats reserved for the director and guests.), and often received standing ovations. I must admit, I have a good thing going. Because I direct successful plays, I get top actors to audition. And, because I get top actors to audition, I end up directing successful plays. It's not rocket science.

     AND, I keep telling myself that's it - I'm done directing. Finished. At least for awhile. Go away. I wanna write something. My wife has a novel coming out soon - a hundred and ten thousand words. And what have I written in the past year?

     I truly think I need to get away for awhile. Patterns are far too comfortable here. Juli and I have talked - England would be nice for a while. A little while. No big city. Somewhere peaceful. I could rent a big dog and a pipe. Or perhaps somewhere deep in Normandy. My French is a little rusty, but - since I am American - it's no worse than my English. On the other hand, and for no good reason I can understand - the Brits seem to actually LIKE us. With the French, you never know ...

     Gotta do something soon. I'm already scheduled to advise on plays in April and November.

     We had a good Easter today (and I hope you did, too.) Ate blackened chicken, potato salad, fire corn (don't ask), fresh croissants, hummus, olives, and tomatoes. Followed this with cheap Mexican beer and ridiculously expensive Starbucks coffee. We completed the afternoon by driving to the park where we were married and making sure "our" tree was still doing well. It is.

     Thanks for hanging in there with me while I rant. As always, afterwards I feel better.

j

Dear Penpal

Hi y’all …

     I thought I’d take a few minutes to bring you up to date on the direction life is taking me at the moment …

     The play I recently directed is playing quite well. The book of TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD is apparently required reading in some schools, so our audiences are liberally sprinkled with High School students (who sit like chess pieces among the grey heads who actually remember the times being portrayed.) In any case, we are presently playing to largely sold-out houses, and have received a more than generous share of standing ovations. (Cool. A theatre that makes money tends to invite you back. Another theatre is already in the asking questions stage of what could be negotiations … “What? We thought you retired. We are opting for this play in November, and were wondering …” Way cool.)

   

  My wife’s first novel, PAINTING THE RAIN, is scheduled to be released in a few weeks, and we are excited about that. The work is a fleshing out of a play we co-authored, so we could win on several fields right now. It has been my observation that when good things come my way, they happen in multiples. Don’t know why, but I’m certainly not complaining.

     And then there is Fred. Fred is a lopsided cactus plant I’ve had for years. We get along very well, thank you. I set him on the back porch in the Spring, and bring him back in sometime in the Fall (when I think of it.) And our lifestyles have outlived numerous relationships for both of us. However … what I’m trying to say in my own coy way, is that Fred and I are no longer alone. I have Juli and Fred has Fern (and a bazillion of Fern’s sisters.) The air smells clean in the corner of our dining room. It takes some getting used to.   

TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD

Auditions were last week-end, and went well, considering ...

     (... considering I was using the original version of the play, and the theatre had optioned a REVISED script without telling me. "It will be fine," they said. "Hardly any differences at all," they said ...)

And, of course, there were significant differences. Two actors dropped out because auditions were something less than professional (along the lines of Mickey Rooney saying, "Hey, gang, let's find a barn and do a play!) I stuck it out, and eventually things were smoothed out ... (A word to the pretenders - NEVER hold auditions for a play you haven't actually read.) The show will survive, in fact I suspect it will be quite good. (I love working with ensemble, and many of my "regular" performers auditioned.) On the other hand, I doubt - at the moment - that I will apply to direct at this particular theatre again.

I hate "blocking" a play, which consists of telling actors where to move on stage. Pretty boring stuff, this. Thursday was even MORE interesting. The theatre furnace died, and we rehearsed on a stage with the temperature hovering at 42 degrees. Some would say this is dedication. Some would say it's something else - my hands were shaking so badly I couldn't read my own writing on the script.

Other than that, everything was just ducky. I can hardly wait for the next rehearsal - Sunday evening - to see what new, uh, challenges occur.

They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I think I may go lift a Volkswagon just for fun.