A few things

Since last we met a few things have happened with varying levels of significance. Most importantly is Old Hickory in NYC as part of the Snowballs Festival in January. Sounds like it could be a fun event; it's a one day event with a lot of stuff going on in a space on White Street with OH going up at 3 pm. It'll be fun and hopefully a warm up for the SoloNova festival in May, which I have also applied to. Speaking of festivals, thought I would have heard from now about One Man Talking. They did extend the submission deadline to Nov. 30th so I guess it'll be soon that I hear; hope so. It'll be my fourth consecutive appearance there. I've also been submitting to some other stuff with my longer plays, mostly in the city for logistical purposes. Wrote the first draft of another solo bit . . . so that's two currently simmering . . . have to figure which to spend the most time with . . . one is more daring than the other, hence, scarier . . . which means it's the one I should attack ... we'll see. I also have the new Beulah's play, which I heard and got feedback on at Woodstock Fringe . . . very encouraging but I have to figure out what exactly to do with it. More when I know it.

2012

Seems like maybe a bit early to look back at 2012, since there is still a month left in the year, but from a theatrical standpoint, not much new is likely to happen in the coming weeks with theater (though having said that, some of the things I have entered should be revealing themselves in the coming weeks). It has been an amazing year, though things have slowed a bit since August. The year started at such a manic pace that it was too much to ask for that pace to continue. Starting with Old Hickory in Nyack and then turning around and moving right into the One Man Talking ten days later (including learning the lines). Old Hickory was work, but I had a framework for it and it wasn't too stressful . . . picking up Like a Sack of Potatoes with a couple of weeks to learn it and mount it . . . a lot of work. Then a breath for a month and the reading in the city of Letter of Resignation. So Jan - April was pretty busy . . . and then the Fringe Festival and acting in Wallace's play. At the end of all that, it was difficult to get revved up again. Though I did work on a new solo piece and have since started another new one . . . I remember Arthur Miller being quoted as saying that every time he finished a play he assumed it was the last one . . . That's how it feels for me to . . . and then something happens . . . the switch gets flipped and you're back in . . . establishing a groove and working on new stuff. So now I am back into a bit of a rhythm . . . which is good. My piece about the posing needs work but I was kind of afraid of it . . . because the easy part is getting the original draft on paper ... once you have that the real work starts, the rewriting and structural work . . . it can be intimidating looking at a piece and seeing the work that needs to be done and that there is only one way to get it done and there are no short cuts. So starting on my new solo piece has gotten me back into the habit . . . the writing habit. Funny how readily you can slip back into it . . . you get up, do what needs to be done and then every day, at least a little time for what matters most. Because I do think the writing matters most or at least is one third of the trident that comprises my life right now today. Writing is the expression of whatever I'm expressing and it is the thing that makes me feel the most whole when it's flowing and the most hollow when it is not. I think hollow is a good way to put it . . . without the writing, there is some edge there that colors everything with a layer of guilt (should be writing) like dust accumulating on furniture. Then, just as quickly as the malaise sets in, the clouds can part and a new something emerges and you're back at it . . . it's no wonder that many writers are such wrecks! At least at my current level I don't have the weight of expectation hovering over me as well. There is no one judging what I do or expecting me to produce . . . to have that whip cracking must add a dimension that isn't so pleasant. Things are good at home, we are safe and secure (relatively). We love each other and respect each other, so that foundation keeps me structurally sound. As for work? Work is work, and it is nice that I like my job and the people there and might actually be about to make some money there (about time!) So looking forward is promising . . . good stuff can happen if you let it . . . I'm starting to send out Old Hickory DVDs to people . . . might bear fruit and might not, but it can't if I don't get it out there. 2013? I'm ready.

Writing?

I'm starting to feel that urge to get going on something again. I've been wasting a lot of time recently. I admire writers who do it every day. I do it every day, but not all the time, if that makes sense. When I'm in the groove and working on something and it's just coming easily, that is when I try to eek out a little time every day for writing. But sometimes I hit these periods where nothing seems to be flowing and all the ideas are iffy, or stuff that doesn't really excite me, so I find other things to do. Though I love my job it does leave me a tad depleted at the end of the day so if the muse is with me it usually happens in the AM. Sometimes the guilt at wasting time by not writing builds up to the point where I have to get back to it . . . eventually it's like, another day gone, no writing, what are you doing? Shouldn't be too hard on myself . . . it has always been peaks and valleys of activity, and I do have two new pieces that are in the first-draft- done-now-what stage. One is a new solo thing and the other a four character bit. And I scribbled down some ideas for something new this morning. So. I have entered a few competitions recently, One Man Talking of course, then a festival that accepts solo shows in the city and a developmental thing that is also in the city, to which I sent a couple of scripts. So it's not like there is no activity . . . OMT will be fun . . . a lot of work for one performance, but I have enjoyed the experience every time I've done it . . . it is such a hoot to be on stage doing my own stuff . . . just wish I could find a way to get something cooking via a showcase in the city or something . . . I guess the bottom line is: if I want to do it . . . I'm going to have to just do it.

Rambles

I've been taking the Beulah piece into the Fringe this fall and it is being well received. This is always good but then the part that is perhaps hardest: going back to it and ruthlessly rewriting. That's what separates the hacks from the rest of us. I really like the characters in the piece and spending time with them is fun, so it actually might be fun! I also recently read my new solo piece, the one about posing for a painting and such, for Bette and she liked it with reservations; her reservations were actually insights that were very helpful regarding structure and focus . . . I knew it wasn't ready to roll, first drafts seldom are, but I am intrigued by the idea and what I can maybe do with it. Heck, the first draft of Old Hickory had our hero talking about how many women he had killed, he was a serial killer! There was some wonderful imagery at the end of it, but it lacked the impact that it eventually achieved by sticking with a more simple story of one guy and his problems dealing with one woman ...it's come a long way, and I can only assume that the new piece, as yet untitled, is at the initial step or two of a very long journey. Of my solo pieces I think Like a Sack of Potatoes had the shortest gestation period, with the fewest rewrites . . . would that they all just sprang into existance so readily! I also keep coming back to an idea for a suspence piece about people waiting out a storm (it tends to come to mind while I'm waiting out a storm). Don't know if I can or will pull it off or even attempt to, but I haven't written a Damage Control kind of thing for a while.

Marketing

It occurred to me the other day, that if I put the same effort into selling my plays as I do selling in my job, it would be an amazing thing. Now not necessarily eight hour a day effort, but consistent sending stuff out and follow through on that. Gotta get revved up to do that.

Chipping away

Progress is being made on my new solo piece. After my final session posing for the painting I took Bette to see it. She told Diego and Emma and Victor that I had the idea to write a solo piece of someone sitting posing and what goes on in their head. I hadn't mentioned it, but her putting it out in the world sort of made it so. I had taken my camera to get a picture of the painting and we actually took one of me in the chair posed, with the painting in the foreground .. . I said 'Ah, there's the postcard for the solo piece' . . . so there you have it. the die is cast. I have been working on it and it seems to be taking shape in my head and I hope to be able to pull off what I intend . . . which is really honest writing, not camoflaged by a make believe story. I'm not sure that conveys what I'm thinking and I'm not even sure how to express it, but I hope the piece gets to where I think it can go. We shall see. I also took a few more pages of my newest play into the Woodstock Fringe this week. That place seems like family to me . . . it's so comforting to be there among friends, working on theater. the piece was well received, though writing in a kind of appalachian patois doesn't make it any easier for the people reading it. The people there were split between the 'something has to happen' and the 'something is happening under the surface'; in fact, Wallace even invoked Chekov, which was a real shot in the arm . . . more on everything soon.

An aha moment

Funny how these things creep up on you. One thing just sort of leads to another, or maybe not even leads, but you see connections and everything falls into place . . . or at least points in a direction. Wondering where the next solo piece will come from and working on other stuff when I see a photo on Facebook of my cousin from Memphis posed with the mascot of my alma mater (Marshall University). He mentions a place in Kentucky with shared roots . . . which I have never been to. Seems his connection with the place goes a lot deeper than mine as I have never been there. So that gets me thinking about digging a little deeper into that side of things. Then there's jury duty which brings up some stuff I had never even shared with my wife (on the day after an audition for August Osage County which is about a very troubled family)AND then there is A Thousand Acres, which is a phenomenal book which slowly but surely exposes the nerve endings . . . I put the book down yesterday and sat on the porch with my dog (it was my birthday and I took the day off) and my mind was so blown by that book . . . which I haven't even finished yet . . . and the realization that despite all my work with the writing and performing . . . I hadn't really gotten into the deep personal shit . . . I do fold little autobiographical tidbits into everything . . . but to really dig deeply into what I feel and who I am? Hasn't happened . . . yet . . . and the question becomes: do I have balls enough to confront myself in that way in public . . . to be really honest. And if so will that take me to another level or will it end up being a brief detour . . . nothing really horrendous in my family backgroud . . . that I know of . . . but maybe the journey to dig into my shit will be enough . . . worth experimenting a bit to see where it goes. In any event . . . this whole aha moment unfolded slowly and slapped up side the head yesterday afternoon . . . the sign is pointing 'This Way' . . . I guess you go this way.