Visiting the Night: It's a Gatekeeper Thing

I do ask myself when writing "what am I offering that is worth the price of admission and 1-2 hours of someone's time?" I take it seriously. And I ask the question again after writing "end of play." And again during edits. And when a play is going nowhere, it is one of the things I re-visit. I am especially cognizant of what I put out there for young performers and young audiences. And it's not necessarily the gatekeeper thing.

I cannot think of a safer place to expose young people to the things gatekeepers think kids should be protected from (sex, drugs, rock 'n roll, cutting, being gay, questioning about faith, drinking, suicide, navigating social media, predators, etc.) than in the theatre. There can be thought and care. It can start a conversation that will continue in the home. And it doesn't need to be an afterschool TV special. It's the stories - the stories of our lives, of our children's lives infused with hope and honey and laced with questions and queries and whys and why-nots. It's the remembrance of being a child and navigating the grown-up world. The fears, the longing, the when-I-grow-ups. A moment in time when something becomes crystal-clear. The moment in time when things aren't as they were.

I have written and will write "G" rated vanilla plays. I will bring people together to smile, to laugh, for the fuzzies and the teddy bears. But there is also the dark side. And children know it well. Pretending they don't does not make it true. Visiting the night is acknowledging it. You can't sweep it under the rug and count on the moon for safety. Who knows? The moon may acknowledge what is being ignored.

Schools and community theatre are hand-cuffed. There's little they can put on these days that won't elicit letters, threats, boycotts. (When Lakeshore Players did Once Upon a Mattress - they got a letter.  A woman was outraged that the princess misbehaved so much. "What kind of an example did that set for my granddaughter?" she wrote.)

I want ... need to earn a living in my field. But if I am only exposing my audiences to sugar and spice and everything nice, I miss the opportunity to help them unlock some gates and navigate the night. Theatre can do that.

Playwright Help

It's a puzzle. I decide on a cast of 4 and then find there is one scene where I need 17 crocodiles. That's 17 bodies to direct (and they don't have lines). 17 bodies to costume ... $$ signs flash. Who's going to do this show when the purpose was to make it theatrical - a costume piece here and there, a chair, a prop ... and then whammo - please find 17 crocodile-actors and costume them! And yes, I need the crocodiles.

There is this scene in Shakespeare in Love by Marc Norman and Tom Stoppard where Shakespeare and Marlowe meet in a bar and talk about their new plays. Shakespeare is working on Romeo and Ethel the Pirate's Daughter but has not written a word. Marlowe hits upon Romeo being Italian ... because ... he has an Italian name - and so is always in and out of love. And then Marlowe tells Shakespeare that Ethel must be daughter of his enemy (presumably because she doesn't have an Italian name) and with another sip of beer, Marlowe decides Romeo's best friend should be killed by Ethel's brother and voila! Romeo and Juliet is hatched. I believe that scene could have happened.

Much has been said about the collaborative nature of theatre. The producer, the director, the actors, the designers and the playwright bring a play to life. (And it's very helpful if all are on the same wavelength.) Little is written about the collaboration between playwrights. Or rather the advice. Or rather the suggestions... or actually - it's the help.

When you spend a year writing a play where the lead character is a physicist and you are allergic to physics, it helps to have a friend who is a playwright and a physicist. (Well, he says he's a recovering physicist.) Playwright T. James Belich listened to six false starts to And the Universe Didn't Blink, answered e-mails about physics (and put the answers in layman's terms for me - he could be a 'physics translator') and did a reading of the play. Talk about being helped!

After working on the Universe play for months, I still didn't know where it was going. I wasn't sure it would ever be a play. And it was important to me. Personal.

"I'll read it," said Playwright Lindsay Price and editor of Theatrefolk. And she did. And sent me back 3 pages of suggestions. Which I embraced. And suddenly, it was time to write again!

A year I go I was editing Under a Midsummer Moon for the Minnesota Fringe Festival. It had a namby-pamby fight scene and I wanted something hard-hitting, physical, come-to-blows sort of thing. But I'm not a fight choreographer and I had no idea what to put in the stage directions.

"They fight," said Playwright Ramon Esquivel. "I just write - they fight. Let the director figure it out." One little piece of advice. I stopped micro-managing the director's job and went back to mine. And used the character's lines to tell the director the fight was serious.

And now I have a gaggle of crocodiles. I certainly wouldn't mind if a director decided to litter the stage with crocodiles but I would prefer it not be a requirement.

"Have a crocodile come out with a stick that has 16 crocodile masks or crocodile heads on it," suggested playwright Maureen Brady Johnson. And that's what I'm doing.

Of course in one play I still have a giant mirror that comes crashing down from the heavens - I'm leaving that problem for the designers.

Links to the playwrights:
T. James Belich: Open Wardrobes
Lindsay Price
Theatrefolk
Ramon Esquivel
Maureen Brady Johnson

Hate

It's such an unnerving word. Hate. It sends shivers. It's a subject I visit in my plays. I wonder why those stories draw me in. But they do. Is that part of the writing process? Finding a subject that makes no sense to you and then you search for clarity as you write?

Years ago, I developed a play with some extraordinary students - about the "Christmas Menorahs" in Billings, Montana. A tale of a group of people who targeted Billings, Montana with hate literature and bricks thrown into the windows of Jewish families, African-American families and anyone else the group thought worthy of hate. The people of Billings responded by putting menorahs in their windows. Thousands and thousands of menorahs appeared in everyone's home - no matter their faith, creed, skin color or beliefs. The paper printed a menorah in the paper so that the citizens could choose to use it if they will. It's scary stuff - bricks shattering glass. There was risk.

The play also contains a true tale of a skinhead and his transformation out of hate. It's more than possible that the play doesn't work. After the initial production - it never found another home. But I cannot let go of it. I will revise again and again. Maybe it's not something for the public. Maybe sometimes the playwright needs a play that is just for her.

From A Menorah for Christmas

SKINHEAD 

Throwing a brick through a window.  It's like a sport.  You know – can you hit it spot on and shatter the entire window?  Can you make it so the brick gets all the way into the house?  Too many people just dent the house.  You’d be surprised how many bricks didn’t make it inside.  But man, we thought it was a thing of beauty when it landed where we wanted it.  And the noise – it proclaimed a job well done.  Best of all, even if there were witnesses – nobody talked.  Once you scare people, you're home free.  Free to keep on doing stuff - to someone else.    

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SKINHEAD

There was this “operation” in my group called “the wolf pack.”  We were all still kids – late teens – early twenties.  We would be sent out in packs – to harass and beat – you

know gays, blacks, anyone really – that wasn’t us.  Tonight there would be packs roaming the streets armed with bricks and guns and bats.  And their target?  Menorahs.  Yeah the police will be busy.  And so will the newspaper.

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SKINHEAD

I now had two menorahs – one from church and one from the newspaper.   And - I hung them up.  Friendships between religious organizations were forged.  Joint Seders between the Christian and Jewish population were held.  And in time, things quieted down.  The hate-mongers moved on.  Quietly.  Happy ending?  Nobody was ever caught. Despite my best efforts. And the stuff continues – the literature, the bricks, the bashings.  It works if you stay silent. Silence - it can be a real killer.  That's why I'm here.  And I'm not silent any more.

"All evil and all injustice should repel you and inspire you to create a world where it cannot occur in darkness. Be both a witness and a bright light that can be cast on those acts of cruelty.This applies to everyone and it is the only way the world will change. The power resides within us." Tennessee Williams/1982

Lots to think about. To write about. And to remember kindness along the way, every day, especially when it's difficult. 

                                                          

The Empty Theatre

"Who do you expect to come see your play?" asked a director at a conference. It was something I seldom thought about. I worked in educational theatre. My job was to provide roles for young performers that would allow them to grow creatively - and I expected my audience would be their parents. I was correct.

Fast-forwarding a bit, I no longer work in educational theatre and I continue to be in the cloudy area of who my target audience is. Not savvy. I just finished 20 months work on my play And the Universe Didn't Blink. I thought it was a TYA play. Then I thought, "No, actually this is for adults." And in the end, I don't know who it's for. It was something I wanted - needed to write. Even if it was painstaking (and it was very). One syllable - one letter at a time.

There's a young girl (fifteen). So is it for teens? There are many trips to the North Pole with a Russian polar explorer - so is it for polar explorers, Santa lovers, seals? It also concerns an older woman who has immense challenges - which opens up new audience possibilities. And closes the others.

I'm not sure what percentage of the playwright needs to be a capitalistic-business person. It's certainly not an overwhelming part of my being. I don't sit and stare and conjure and delete and cross out words with the mindset of "this will make money." It's more of a "this will work; this could be effective" dream. But of course, if you're not targeting who will fill the audience seats - maybe you're setting yourself up for an empty theatre. Or maybe it's the play you needed to write to cross a bridge to the next play.

And the Universe Didn't Blink will be featured as part of a "Playwright T.E.A.S.E. (The Easy Access Script Experience)" in the Twin Cities in June. It's an opportunity - to network and to put your work out there. I live in the Twin Cities. I am seldom produced here. I am looking forward to the evening of introducing Twin Cities playwrights to the Twin Cities and celebrating everyone's work. I only hope I can answer the question, "Who do you expect to come and see your play?" by June.

When there's no applause ...

"What are you going to do about the gorilla in the room?" asked a director at Bonderman Symposium. "How are you going to address the planes?" In my play about 9/11, I don't address the planes except indirectly. In fact, I made a concerted effort to stay away from the planes. I was determined to deal with the after-effects of the terror attacks. The healing - not the violence.

But now I am thinking that the director was correct. He even suggested that By Candlelight (excerpt found here) be performed with a multi-media presentation - showing the planes and the World Trade Center. After seeing a production where the director did exactly that, part of me wishes to go back and suggest that in the script. It was effective. Very.

 In November 2012, I had the privilege of being a visiting playwright for Bettendorf High School's production of By Candlelight. Their theatre was under construction and so they were at another high school but they couldn't have a "proper set." So they improvised. Screens were set up and before certain scenes, a few photos from the 9/11 attacks were used. Tapes from air traffic control workers were heard.

During the vigil scene, a screen came down in the middle of the stage of the actual vigil on 14th Street. Bette Midler's version of I Think it's Going to Rain Today was heard in the background.

At the end of the play where we find out that one of the two main characters died in the attack, candles are lit, the cast is onstage and after the final words are spoken - two screens lit up with the names of the victims from the Word Trade Center. Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah played in the background. The cast stood. A few minutes later when the scrolled names ended, a true photo of the character Lanie appeared on the screen with the words "In Memoriam." Blackout.

Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Nobody applauded. The audience sat stunned. As one young performer said to me later, "I learned that silence can be better than applause."

How to Not Obsess over your Stars at the Minnesota Fringe Festival

"Today is a dedicated non-fringe day. I will resume normal life and not obsess over reviews." I stated on this on Facebook. As if stating something on Facebook makes it real. 

I am a product of the fairy tale, "Be Careful what You wish For...." I had six reviews and was obsessing and yearning for a seventh. I checked - oh I don't know - about every 8-1/2 minutes. And after checking fourteen times, the elusive seventh review appeared. And I lost 1/2 a star.

I want it back. I am the wrong personality for a Fringe producer. I am obsessing over those stars. But there is no show until Wednesday eve, so I must calm my brain, breathe and forget about those slippery stars!

The first thing to do is to pack up the cat and go exercise. If it is true that you cannot feel two things at once, I won't be feeling starless when my muscles scream in pain.

And after exercising furiously, I could keep my strength up by having some rhubarb-strawberry pie. It's fruit (good for you) and local (good for the planet) and the Vitamin F in fruit keeps you from seeing stars.

And I don't mean having a piece of the pie....

I mean eating a pie.

Which is tiring.

And so I shall nap with Pippin. And hope I don't see shape-shifting stars while I sleep.

Upon awakening, I shall forget about those naysaying stars by delving into some goat cheese ice cream with rhubarb compote. (Dairy and fruit -  Weight Watchers approves).

And I shall trick my brain from star-gazing by reading food blogs with Pip.

And turn on those endorphins with chocolate mousse cake. Inducing chocolate nirvana where stars are inconsequential.

Pip-a-doo and I will lie under the sun - a sun so bright that no stars can be seen.

Of course we will rest near a phone in case the press comes calling - because they are impressed by my 7 reviews and 4 stars.

And tomorrow, I will resume obsessing. I will be back with them - my hearts - back at the Fringe, back in the starry mix, back Under a (starless) Midsummer Moon at the Minnesota Fringe Festival.

First Time Fringe Producer...I had no idea

One year and 6 days ago. That's when I told my co-workers at the Lakeshore Players Summer Youth Project that I was going to try and take Under a Midsummer Moon to the Minnesota Fringe Festival 2012. "I'm in," they said.

"I can't pay."

"Let's do it."

And through a fortuitous circle of events (not getting picked for a slot), I did indeed wind up producing Under a Midsummer Moon at the Minnesota Fringe.

I had no idea.

I wrote the check (low by producing standards; high if you are earning a living as a playwright). Gulped. Read the Producer's Handbook. Was overwhelmed and and read it again. And again. And had questions. I could not find out if the Fringe had a music contract that included background music. "Would I need to cut it from the show?" I wrote Mark Franco.

"It does have a contract," he said and gently referenced the page number in the Producer's Handbook that specifically states that.

"Uh oh," I thought. I won't make that mistake again.

Under a Midsummer Moon has 14 characters. Three are double-cast. (Did I mention the cast is comprised of all teens and preteens?) By Fringe standards, I would need the coliseum to mount my show. I thought we had a simple, pared down set: 2 rocks, 4 trees, 3 benches. Lots of props but little set.

"That's one big set," mentioned the Fringe technicians as we loaded in.

I had no idea.

"How many are in your cast?" asked a surprised technician as the "kids" loaded in.

"Only 14 - and 3 are double-cast. The original production had 22 characters. We really pared it down."

"That's one big cast," mentioned a technician.

Color me clueless.

"How long's the play?"

"About 55 minutes."

"That's a long play."

I didn't know. It used to be 75 minutes. I thought it was fairly short.

"You know we turn off the lights at 60 minutes?"

"Yes, we know."

Fourteen young cast members. Huge set. Long play. A ten-minute tear-down. No problem. We practiced and practiced at Peace Methodist Church (where we were gifted with free rehearsal space). The young cast could get the set through a doorway and stored or set-up in less than five minutes. Of course the theatre (Brave New Workshop Student Union) stores the sets down a long stairway...

Yes, I thought there would be a possibility of stairs... just not all those stairs.

There were all these dates that things were due. Liability waivers, 210-character show description (spent one month on that and of course - hate it now.) tech contact, tech requirements, elevator pitch, photo, postcards, press pitch, show details, W-9, marketing, programs, social media usage, creating an event, invites...

I was determined to do all early - in case the unexpected came up.

I don't want to say I was dreading the 3-hour tech - but all right - I was scared. And apprehensive. We taped the set (including the many levels of the Brave New Workshop Student Union's stage). And for weeks, the director and I watched the actors blithely walk through walls and ignore the levels.

"You'll only get one run-through. Nobody has managed to get more than one - especially with a play this long."

And the Fringe technicians were correct. We got one run-through - alternating the double-cast members.

And tech was grand! The Fringe technicians were professional, concise, good-humored and the tech went smoothly. There were only a few "QOS's" (QUIET OFFSTAGE). The cast acted like seasoned veteran actors... most of the time. Only two props broke.

And in the midst of Fringe Frenzy, the unexpected did occur. My mother went into the hospital and came home with hospice care the week before we started rehearsals. I was absent the first week as Mik Mikula (director), Dennis Joslyn (set designer, tech director) and MaryBeth Gagner, Dr. Linda Wolf (Howling Wolf Productions) took care of all. Mik did all communication with the families, Dennis did the design and took over the postcards for me, MaryBeth quietly went and borrowed costumes.

I sent press releases from my mother's home and later found a typo. A month earlier, I would have beaten myself up. Now, I saw it for what it was - a typo. Maybe nobody would take the press release seriously but I had other things on my mind. Two days after sending the press releases, my mother passed away. My sister and I were with her.

Under a Midsummer Moon deals with a loss. The summer of my first fringe, will always intersect with my personal loss. But the Fringe adventure has had many roads and intersections leading to tonight's opening. The generosity of my co-workers, the work of my cast, the helping hands of their parents and the support of my family. And then there is the Minnesota Fringe Festival  machine itself - they have tweaked and organized and have quite an operating machine to support first-time fringe producers. My initial overwhelmed-temperature gradually cooled as everything got done in bits and pieces. And Mark Franco was always an e-mail away for questions.

We open at 5:30 p.m. tonight, August 2nd. I don't know what to expect. I am hoping a few seats are filled - not for payback or monies for me. I am hoping for an audience for the actors. And for the staff. I wasn't in this for the money - I was in this to create theatre with some very wonderful people.  And to put my money where my mouth is - and invite some extraordinary young performers to go on this journey with me. And they did. And we are there.