Writer Retreat



In spite of popular belief, our Writer Retreat was not strictly for the birds.

j

Suzie! Please! Tell me it's not true!

j.

AIDA

     Today I was informed that of the directors applying to direct AIDA next spring, I had been selected.

     A-A-A-A-A-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H!!!! E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-!!!! O-O-O-O-O-O-O-H-H-H-H-H!! (Pause for breath.) H-H-H-H-E-E-E-E-E-E-E. WHO-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O!!! (Oh baby.)

     I thanked the committee politely, and, in as dignified a manner as possible, informed them that I would be pleased to present my plans at the first opportunity.

     ... whatever those plans are. At this point I have no clue.

     j 

Memories

     Someone asked me about the music that influenced my life during the time when my life could still be influenced by music.

     Her she is; the voice that defined a generation and the song that so reflected my own wander lust.

     j

Xanadu

A picture taken by my writing partner during her quest west, while researching background material for a book based on a play we co-authored.

Not exactly the way I pictured it, but the thought was there.

j

Post Script

     Just learned that the production of OF MICE AND MEN that I directed has placed as the third largest ticket sales in the fifty year history of the theatre.

     La-de-dah.

     j

An Observation

     I have been constant in directing one show after another lately. I am aware of that as a fact. Add the classes and seminars I occasionally teach plus the reviews I write, and I seem to find a barrage of projects in front of me at any given moment. I am rarely home (explaining, in part, why these posts normally find life at somewhere around three in the morning.)

    I tell myself these are all things I sincerely want to do. And this is true. I love my work.

    I tell myself that I am finite, that eventually there will be an ending, and that I should go and do now, while I can, because there will come a time when I will want to make other choices.

    I tell myself that, because of the constant string of shows, mostly successful, I am in demand - that if I stop, even for a relatively short period of time, I will be forgotten. No, I'm not being paranoid. This is also true - the nature of show business. What have you done for me lately - like, this morning?

    But events over the past few months (which you might refer to as "life") have given me pause. Is there the (of course) remote possibility that I'm using all this as an escape? Might there be other things worth doing, worth saying?

     I am tentatively reaching in new directions. So far I haven't had the greatest of successes. But I'll let you know how it all works out. 

    j

Update

     I am presently working as a production advisor to a nearby theatre group now in rehearsal for a December production of ANNIE.

     (And just where did that come from?!)

     The director had called me to borrow the bunks used in OF MICE AND MEN. I was flattered, told her they belonged to the theatre that had produced the show, and thought that would be the end of the matter.

     It wasn’t. She called again, this time with questions. Over the next few days we talked often and at some length. Since I had directed ANNIE (twice), it pleased me to point out a few land mines written into the show.

     She offered me a position with the company. I declined. She offered again. I told her that, having directed this epic with thousands of smelly children and a dog, I would rather die than be involved with yet another production.

     Call me Lazarus.

     The first actual rehearsal was today. I had to admit I was impressed – the major roles have been cast with seriously talented people. On the other hand, surrounding them were the two dozen or so “orphans” and the equal number of stage mothers (who could have given Hitler lessons in aggression).

     Suddenly I remembered why I hated this show with a passion. Too late.

     Oh well. The cookies are free and I get along great with the dog. 

j

Wanderin' Star

Art work

     OF MICE AND MEN closed, as all plays do. The set was taken down, dismantled, some sections placed in storage for future use, some portions deemed of little or no value, destroyed.

     But this set was different - literally a work of art. A number of people involved in the production (including the art director) rescued sections of "skin" as they were heading toward large no-nonsense dumpsters. I have an entire section of what had been the barn.

These panels are now momentarily occupying space in my den. They are safe and saved. When I get an afternoon free, I plan to have them mounted and framed. I already know where they will hang.

What do you think?

j.

At Sixes And Seven eights ...

     The bewitching hour never announces its arrival. I wait for it, start writing in faith, and discover it has been waiting for me – or, more often passed me by, offended that I might presume upon the nature of the beast.

     So sit closer, please. I am uncertain tonight. I am two-dimensional, desperately in need of taking definitive actions. The speeches are all in my mind – complete – edited and amended and augmented and articulated a hundred times. Tiny stitches in an old sock. But I am unsure, sore afraid of not being taken seriously or worse – being laughed at! So I hesitate, and by example live in parable. Who makes up these silly rules, anyway?!

     The play closed yesterday. The set is gone. Bare stage remains. As I have done so many times before, I stand there, alone, listening to echoes of echoes. It was a good show, excellent by the standards of this theatre – two standing ovations. And I should feel a sense of relief – this is the first time in 15 months that I haven’t been in production or pre-production for one show or another. But I feel nothing inside – empty. Why is that, do you suppose? Why this rush from one project to the next to the next? What void do I pretend to fill? I know the answer, of course. Fulfillment is finite. What increases one person diminishes someone else. I won’t have that. For the life of me, I will not.

      So maybe a vacation is in order – I haven’t taken one in at least ten years. At the moment the orient has some appeal. I’ll send you some postcards from Xanadu!

 j.      

25 Thinks You May Not Know About Me

1. I’m doing this under duress. I prefer being a more private person.
2. The vast majority of my friends are involved in the Arts. Talented people allow me to breathe.
3. My youngest friend is 14. My oldest friend is dead.
4. I avoid other people who are Mensa (with a few exceptions). They are not nearly as provocative or interesting as they think they are (with a few exceptions.)
5. I consider myself a gypsy. I’ve already stayed far too long in one place.
6. My hobbies are horseback riding, sailing, and fencing. And I used to be damn good at two of ‘em.
7. I’m learning that true intimacy with a few people may not be such a useless practice after all.
8.  I’m running out of things to say already.
9. I firmly believe that children should be seen and not often.
10. I think marriage is a wonderful state. But I feel the same way about Nebraska, so what do I know?
11. My favorite author is Dorothy Parker. She and Darth Vader could have been bff.
12. I’ve always been a Feminist. There was a time when that meant something.
13. I never wear socks; only wear shoes when I’m out in public. (I don’t think that has anything to do with being a Feminist, but if they ever need a sock burning, I'm there.)
14. I like rum an’ coke, Greek salad, baked potatoes, and a really good steak – my favorite meal. But I’m open to new experiences. (Sam? Are you getting this?)
15. I am at my most creative between three-thirty and five in the morning. I have idly wondered why that is so.
16. I bore my dog to sleep on a regular basis, but he loves me anyway.
17. I appreciate having friends in Canada and Europe. They give me a more balanced perspective on where I live … and where they live. I wish I had a friend in Russia. Or Nebraska.
18. I just got SKYPE – yesterday held a video conversation on my computer. This is absolutely positively the best toy ever!
19. I used to write plays because I thought I had something to say. I was wrong, but that realization has never slowed me down. (Nor anybody else.)
20. I used to be a Republican. Then I became a Democrat. Now I’m looking wistfully toward limited monarchy. Come on, people – there’s gotta be SOMETHING out there that works!
21. My ancestors were German and American Indian. They fought a lot – often against each other. Still do. Early on they worked as whalers, mule skinners, and educators. I’m the black sheep in the family.
22. My favorite composers are Sergei Rachmaninoff, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Paul Simon, Scott Joplin, and George Gershwin. I plan to invite them over for lunch on Tuesday.
23. Some of my friends are gay. Some of my friends are not. Most of the time we get along just fine.
24. I've done almost everything in life that I've wanted to do, and I think not too many people can say that.
25. And then there is you, managing to hang in through all my ranting, highs and lows. Thank you – you are pretty cool. And appreciated.

Okay. There. I did it. Your turn.

j.

Late Night Again

     My occasional dip into a melancholy mood always catches me by surprise. Slowly I become aware of the signs – it’s 4ish in the morning, I’m sitting here nursing the last of the rum an’ coke I poured several hours ago, and those who are dear to me are not within the arm’s length of where I want them to be.

    
 
In the background I hear Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. It could as easily be Willie Nelson (except that is whisky sipping music, and I don’t normally keep a bottle of whiskey in the house.) Or it could as easily be a tune by Hank Williams Senior – except for that, you need to be sitting beside strangers in a dingy bar where you can truly feel all alone in the world.

      So Rachmaninoff it is. A kindred spirit in a way. A tortured soul (largely of his own making.) His true brilliance came when he was relatively young, and he spent most of his career chasing his own shadow. He was artistic, and by being sensitive he was easily offended. I don’t know if he smoked, but he did drink some (or so I’m told), and, by being the poster boy for the Russian fatalistic temperament, he found women – especially in America – were particularly  drawn to him. When I was studying music theory seriously I discovered he had been the teacher of my teacher. I heard stories … perhaps that’s why I feel a relationship. If he was here now we’d both be sipping rum an’ coke and listening to his music. And probably crying for no good reason I know. And feeling good about it.

      The artist on this recording is Yuja Wang, who has done just enough to start attracting attention. Rachmaninoff was a huge hulking man, with hands like meat hooks. Ms Wang appears somewhat diminutive, with not the physical strength to attack some of the passages the way they were intended. On the other hand … Ms Wang has dexterity the composer could never have matched on his best day.

       So it’s a draw. Enjoy.

  j.   

JUST A THOUGHT ...

      Huh.

      OF MICE AND MEN is winding down. Granted, it has a couple of more weeks to run … but it’s going well – very well. And once a show opens, there’s not a whole lot for a director to do beyond keeping the show from evolving. In fact, most directors depart after opening night, leaving already strict adherence to vision in the hands of a Stage Manager who speaks directly to God, and hands out judgments accordingly.

      And …

      My next official (read “paid”) commitment is Shakespeare’s ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, scheduled to open in August of 2012, with auditions next June. The two leads have been signed already, and I’ve had initial conversations with both the costumer and set designer. Blah blah blah. In fact, the entire crew has been optioned, and I am now simply waiting to audition the supporting cast ten months from now …

     Yawn. Ten months. Being left to my own devices is not a good thing for a lengthy period of time. I tend to tap dance eagerly into marked fields of land mines. (If you don't believe me, please let me introduce you to colorful and expensive ex-wives.)

     And so …

     I just learned that the same theatre producing OF MICE AND MEN now will offer the Elton John/Tim Rice musical AIDA next May, (as a replacement for something). Auditions are in February, and they are suddenly looking for a crew and a director … Out of curiosity I inquired, and by the merest of coincidences, my entire A&C crew offered to step in.  All that remains is for me to decide if I want to apply to direct … This is, of course, a rhetorical pondering. OF COURSE I applied!

     Director interviews are in mid September. I’ll let you know how it goes. I presume the decision will be shortly thereafter. I’ll let you know how that goes, too.

     Things are lookin’ up.

     That’s the way, uh-huh uh-huh, I like it, uh-huh uh-huh …

j.