You know, two summers ago I wrote a play. It was inspired by a conversation I had on a front porch on the 4th of July. There were about 10 people there at the party, but only three of them were dominating the conversation, and as I’m not very good at group conversations, I just listened. One of the three was a professor, another a student. The third was a girl who was visiting from across the country. In a small town like ours, that’s a huge deal.

She was telling us about her life in another place, and we were all rapt with attention. The student expressed his desire to leave, to find himself, and the professor (in rather crude terms) seconded the notion.

Regardless, I found the conversation to be inspiring. They spoke in a very real, down-to-earth way, but instead of half-hearted smalltalk, this was passionate, fiery conversation. It felt like I was watching a play.

As soon as I realized this, I switched my brain into Line Memorizing Mode, where I remember things accurately and quickly. I dunno, it’s a trick I have, I guess. Anyway, as soon as I got home, I wrote the rough draft of a play. It wasn’t long at 25 pages, but it was a good start.

Over the next year, I polished it and refined it. The character personalities were heavily based on my friends on that porch, with several monologues coming verbatim (at least, as best as I could remember) from that porch conversation. I wasn’t ripping off their ideas — I’d already had those ideas. But they had articulated them in ways I’d never been able to do before.

So the character personalities were based on my friends, but the characters deep down inside were based mostly on my own experiences (which, I suspect, everyone else has gone through as well). The conversations were composed entirely of thoughts that I had had before or experiences that I had actually been through. I wrote the way my friends might say it, but the underlying message came from within, rather than from them.

After a year of polishing it up, I turned in a proposal at my school to direct it. It took six weeks to get a response.

The producer came to me, asked me to come to his office, sat me down, and said “This is crap. Lazy writing.”

His reasoning was the professor’s character cursed constantly. I just nodded. I couldn’t very well tell him that the character was based on one of his employees, that this was very, very realistic writing. If it had been truly lazy writing, then the other two characters would have been cursing as well. As it is, neither of them ever say a curse word.

So, my script sits on a shelf, waiting for a day when I can produce it on my own, when I have the resources and opportunity to put it on stage.

I suspect that many people will connect with it. I don’t think it will make Broadway, by any means. It’s not that good. But it’s good enough for a one-act.

Like the characters in my play, someday I know my dreams will come true.

I’m relatively new to blogging, and I’ve yet to make it into extensive professional theatre credits, but I’ve been trying to keep up-to-date on the latest and greatest in the theatre scene. I have to say, despite only blogging for two months, I’ve read some pretty inspiring posts and chatted with some pretty incredible people. These are the guys who are changing my perspective on theatre, getting out of my young, naive viewpoint and into the nitty gritty reality of theatre. Here’s a brief list of just a few of the blogs that I read on a regular basis. I’ve got over 30 that I subscribe to, but for now I’ll stick to about five. Here we go:

- Theatre Ideas is run by Scott Walters. I’ve linked to him before. He’s one of the masterminds behind a movement to change the face of theatre. While his posts are hit-and-miss with me (sorry, I’m not good with statistics, Scott), I always walk away, so to speak, with more questions than answers. In case you’re wondering, that’s good. It generates comments (like the To MFA or Not MFA conversation) and keeps me on my toes.

- Parabasis is another blog that I read when they update. Like Theatre Ideas, Parabasis has some good stuff. Every once in awhile, there’s an off-topic post, but that kinda keeps things from getting too repetitive. A good blog that was posted very recently deals with the issue of Enhancement, or when commercial producers fund a show by a non-profit, in hopes of moving it to a commercial venue in the future. Good stuff.

- An Angry White Guy In Chicago isn’t really angry. He’s white, and he’s in Chicago, but he’s not angry. Well, sometimes he’s angry, sometimes he’s not. He got the name from — well, that’s not really relevant to this post. Semantics aside, this guy attacks some pretty serious issues facing theatre in Chicago, as well as some political stuff. Since theatre and politics are two of my favorite subjects to read about (until the election anyway, and then I’ll tune out), this ain’t so bad. Don’s got particularly funny ideas regarding stunt casting for Broadway musicals.

- A Storefront Rebellion was started by Kris Vire who, alongside Scott Walters, advocates the proliferation of.. well.. storefront theatres. Once again, great posts that are both inspiring and fun to read. He regularly posts on another blog called Time Out Chicago, which I have yet to read. Good stuff, though.

- BroadwayMouth wants to be a librettoist. Is that a word? I’m not sure. A teacher who wants to become a full-time libretto-maker (that’s definitely a word) writes a blog. He’s got some good down-to-earth posts, reviews, stories, etc. You name it, he’s got it, and he’s a good writer to boot! One of his recent posts discusses his first production experience. Great stuff!

By the way, you should all sign up for Google Reader and follow the instructions to add it to your favorite browser (I use Firefox). Once you’ve added Google Reader capability, you can go to any of the above blogs and look for one of the following:

• - Subscribe to this blog
• - Posts (Atom)
• - Subscribe to this RSS Feed
• - or look for an orange button that looks like antenna rays or something.

Once you click on those, choose to either add them to your GMail account or to Google Reader. One will send a notification to your email everytime someone updates, the latter will give you a button to press when you want to read a newly updated blog.

If you have any questions regarding RSS stuff, just ask. It’s fun, it’s easy, and it’s a great way to follow blogs (or any website for that matter)!!

Toodles for now!

Friend of mine emailed me this. Thought I’d share it with you guys. The theatrical structure. I dedicate this to Sandy.
Theatrical Structure:

Producer-
Leaps tall buildings in a single bound.
Is more powerful than a locomotive.
Is faster than a speeding bullet.
Walks on water.
Gives policy to God.

Director-
Leaps short buildings in a single bound.
Is more powerful than a switch engine.
Is just as fast as a speeding bullet.
Walks on water if the sea is calm.
Talks with God.

Playwright-
Leaps short buildings with a running start.
Is almost as powerful as a switch engine.
Is faster than a speeding BB.
Swims well.
Is occasionally addressed by God.

Actor-
Makes high marks on the wall when trying to leap
buildings.
Is run over by locomotives.
Can sometimes handle a gun without inflicting
self-injury.
Dog paddles.
Talks to animals.

Chorus Member-
Falls over doorsteps when trying to enter
buildings.
Says “Look at the choo-choo.”
Wets himself with a water pistol.
Plays in mud puddles.
Mumbles to himself.

Stage Manager-
Lifts buildings and walks under them.
Kicks locomotives off the track.
Catches speeding bullets in his teeth and eats
them.
Freezes water with a single glance.
*IS* God.

Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock all day, you’ve heard about Heath Ledger passing away.  I can’t really add much to what other people have said, so I’m just going to hold a moment of silence in his honor.

…

…

…

…thank God they finished Batman.

In all seriousness:  Rest in Peace, Mr. Ledger.

I got my list of schools that are interested in interviewing me at the U/RTA conference in Chicago next weekend.

One school.  Out of 15 that have the program I want.

Now I’m trying to decide whether to go or not.  I mean, drive all the way to Chicago, spend all that time and money, when the one school that wants to interview me is only 2 hours away?

Oh, I know I’ll go.  I’ve always wanted to see Chicago, and this is a pretty good excuse to go.  And I understand I may get more interviews as the time grows closer.  And there are acting auditions, as well.  Plus, I have some friends out there.  Maybe some of you faithful readers in Chicago will want to meet up for lunch or something.  If so, let me know.  I’ll be in Chicago Friday 2/2 to Monday 2/5.

I’m gonna go in there and give it my best shot, be as passionate and excited as I can, as I really am.

But I can’t help but wonder:  what could I have done better?

I don’t know how many of you actually follow the professional theatre blogs out there, but I’ve been trying to keep abreast of the latest and greatest in the theatre world. One of these is a blog by Scott Walters.

Scott has an intriguing viewpoint in theatre. He believes theatre has failed America, that there is a new regime change, so to speak, in sight. He believes that the status quo is about to change, and a new order will arise.

I’m not going to rehash everything Scott believes. Instead, I’ll refer you to his blog.

In other news, my friend William is having difficulties in his first year as an MFA student. He’s one of the more capable people I know, so the fact that he is having trouble scares me a bit.

As a result of Scott’s blog on MFA programs, the subsequent discussions, and William’s troubles, I’m having second thoughts about joining an MFA program. There are dozens of programs out there, and I’m unsure which is the best to join. I’m not even sure an MFA program is the best direction to go. I’m writing this to sort of lay out my plan, my ideas, and see what I can come up with.

Pros:

- I want to teach college eventually, and I need an MFA to do that
- I want to direct, and my undergraduate training was sorely lacking in that area. An MFA will provide that training.
- I need to make connections with the theatre world, and my undergraduate school was so far removed as to provide no connections at all.
- I need to see more diverse views on theatre than what I saw in my undergrad program.
- Looking at Broadway billings, it’s painfully obvious that the most successful artists are those who have MFA’s and extensive training.

Cons:

- It costs a lot of money
- It’s extremely tough, and given William’s experiences, I’m afraid of getting into a program I don’t fit well with
- I could theoretically get directing training by working independently or professionally
- Working professionally could gain me some networking connections without the hassle of an MFA program (which, according to Scott, is outdated anyway)
- Broadway, while a nice idea, isn’t exactly a priority goal for me, so an MFA wouldn’t help me in that regard.

Oh geez. It’s tougher than I thought. I’m going to say that the training will probably be equal either way, so that’s out. The connections are probably equal either way, so that’s out too. The Broadway option cancels the MFA authority out. So that basically leaves me with one criteria: I wish to teach college at some point in the future.

I need an MFA…

..or do I?

(I’m breaking my posting schedule with this, but I’d like to get this out today.)

This is my last show in my current location.  Once this show is over, I’m moving away, either home or to wherever I’m going to grad school.  There is a lot I’m going to miss about this place, but honestly, it’s just time for me to move on.  However, I intend to go out with a bang.

I have an idea, and I’m hoping some of my friends will be willing to participate. The whole idea of this exercise is to improve ourselves as actors by getting criticism, suggestions and feedback from our peers, our faculty, and from random people who show up to the performance. In addition, this project will be huge brownie points in the eyes of the faculty, for anyone who participates.

I have a book of a collection of 10 minute plays. I’ve been reading through it, and I’ve found several plays that would be fairly easy to do, yet fun as well.  The question is:  will they be interested as well?  Here’s my proposal.

Mission Statement: We intend to produce multiple 10-minute plays for free to anyone who wishes to attend, for the intents of A) having fun, B) becoming better actors and C) helping generate interest in the theatre.

The Plan:

1) Get three or four people together (actually, the more the merrier)
2) Assign parts
3) Either take turns directing or I’ll direct all the plays
4) Spend 2-3 weeks practicing (they’re 10 minute plays, so not a lot of practice required)
5) Perform them (for free) one afternoon in the black box studio
6) Ask the audience for their criticisms (either written or verbal). To increase participation of this aspect, anyone who participates gets a coke and cookie or something.
7) Have a Post-Mortem meeting with everyone involved, go over the criticisms and suggestions. Become better actors

The key here is to offer them for free (to encourage attendance and participation), and to GAIN MEANINGFUL FEEDBACK from others. One of the problems that I see in the department is a lack of feedback from our instructors. Very rarely are we told what could be done better (especially after a play is over with). Every other industry out there does something similar, and it helps them avoid making the same mistakes over and over. Since our instructors won’t give us feedback on their own, let’s do our own project and generate our own feedback.
Hopefully, I’ll get enough participants (only need three!) to get this off the ground and running.  And hopefully, this will be such a success that it happens every semester, even after I’m gone.   Perhaps, in the future, it will become a 10-minute play festival or something.

What do you think?  Do you have better ideas, or perhaps some suggestions to improve this?  I’d love to read your comments!

“Hey.”

“Hey, Director,” Randall says, measuring some fabric. “What can I do for ya?”

“Is Clem around?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

“Can I help you instead?” he asks.

I am skeptical. While he’s a nice guy and definitely knows what he’s talking about, I just don’t ever find that I have much in common with Randall. I prefer talking with Clem about these sorts of things. I shrug and decide to go for broke.

“Sure,” I say, pulling out my director concepts for A Raisin in the Sun, Mother Courage, and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. “I’m working on my concepts for the upcoming conference.” He nods, knowing full well what kind of preparations I’m making for the conference.

“What’s the problem?”

“Well, I wanted to show you my concepts and see if you could give me any advice.” He nods and I hand him the papers. I keep going. “For A Midsummer Night’s Dream, for example, I’m a little confused. I don’t want to go with pure Elizabethan style costumes, but I don’t want to go modern either. Both are overdone. So I figured I’d go with French Baroque. I like the time period, and it’s different and… well… I don’t know if that’s a good enough reason.”

I pause, waiting for him to respond. He doesn’t.

“Is it?” He looks up.

“Well, do you think it is?” I shake my head. “Then you need to find a reason. Read through the script again, see if you can find some parallels between the French Baroque period and A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” I nod. I point to the A Raisin in the Sun concept.

“My idea here was–” I begin. He cuts me off.

“Where are the acting concepts?” He shuffles the papers. I stare at him. He looks up at me. “The actor concepts?” I’m dumb-struck.

“Uhh…” I’m speechless. Of course. What’s the whole point of directors? To direct the actors! I had forgotten to include actor concepts!

I had conferred with my friend William regarding the concepts in the first place, and since he’s first and foremost a lighting designer, naturally the discussion centered around technical design aspects. I’d completely forgotten about the acting side of things. How stupid can I be?

By this time next week, I assure you, my faithful readers, that my full director concepts will be posted. Somewhere.

God, I’m a fool.

In my last blog, Got To Be Good Looking Cause I’m So Hard To See, I told the story of how my director flipped out when I sang the Beatles’ Come Together. So I went into the first rehearsal for Fiddler a little more confident than normal. I walked in, sat down, and he pretty much ignored me.

We sang four songs. I sang softly, since I’m not terribly confident (just more confident than before). I was trying to figure out where I fit in the score.

You see, I tend to sing high, but I should sing low, but I hear higher pitches better than lower pitches. It’s all rather complicated and confusing, but essentially, I hear higher pitches than I should be singing. All this boils down to is: I shouldn’t sing.

Anyway, I tried to fit in as best I could, but I couldn’t hear myself over everyone else, nor could I pick out a single voice near me to compare my pitches. I know a few people around me were in my range, and I was trying to match their pitches. Unfortunately, I kept going high because that’s what I could hear.

I basically sang falsetto all night. Not good.

So I go up to ET after rehearsal.

“Hey,” I say.

“What can I do for ya?” he asks.

“Where do you want me to sing? High? Low? Middle?”

“Whatever.” He smiled and turned around to talk to someone else.

Oh. That helped. Thanks.

For the next six weeks, I’m performing in a production of Fiddler on the Roof. Yeah.

So, a couple of days ago, I went out to a bar with one of my friends, who happens to be directing Fiddler. I don’t drink, but I enjoy the company. At this particular bar, there’s a karaoke night every Thursday night, which just happened to be which night we were there. During the break between one of the karaoke sets, the DJ played the Beatles “Come Together”. Good! One of my favorites! My half-deaf ass tried to sing along.

Here come ol’ flat-top, he come groovin’ up slowly
He got joo-joo eyeball, he one holy roller,
He’s got hair down to his knees,
Got to be a joker he just do what he please…

I’m sorta staring off into space, singing along. My friend turns around and looks at me for a second, then he turns back to talk to someone else. I keep singing.
He wear no shoeshine, he got toe-jam football,
He got monkey finger, he shoot coca-cola,

He turns to me again and looks at me. I looked back and did a little twist of my head and my shoulders in a sorta “Hey, I’m being a moron and trying to sing when I really can’t!” move.

He say “I know you, you know me”
One thing I can tell you is you got to be free!
Come together! Right now! Over me…

ET is freaking out, eyes wide open, mouth moving, all spastic.

“You sang!” he said, loudly. “You were spot on those notes! All of them!” I just kinda stared at him for a second. The music kept playing, and I just looked at him and he looked at me.

He bag production, he got walrus gumboot,
He got Ono sideboard, he one spinal cracker,
He got feet down below his knees
Hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease
Come together! right now! Over me..

ET is spazzing out again. “Cody! Listen! He’s singing! Like, RIGHT ON, man! Right on pitch!” I’m still not sure if he’s just drunk or trying to make me feel bette or what.

He roller coaster, he got early warning,
He got muddy water, he one mojo filter,
He say “One and one and one is three”

I do a little jig.

Got to be good looking cause he’s so hard to see
Come together! Right now! Over me…

And the song ends. ET’s just beside himself. I still can’t figure out why. I mean, I know I can’t sing consistently, but I can sing occasionally.

“No, no,” he says. “This is good. You sing high. You can hear the high notes, so you can hit the high notes. Here, here sing this song!” Garth Brooks Friends in Low Places came on.

“What?” I exclaimed. “Are you crazy? You can’t put me on the spot like that and expect me to sing.”

“Do it!”

“No!”

“C’mon, man!”

Fine. Fine, then. I’ll embarrass myself once again in front of ET and all these other drunk people.

I guess I was wrong
I just don’t belong
But then, I’ve been there before
If everything’s all right
I’ll just say goodnight,
And I’ll show myself to the door

Hey I didn’t mean
To cause a big scene
Just give me an hour and then
I’ll be as high as that ivory tower
That you’re living in!

Once again, ET is beside himself. “YOU MISSED EVERY SINGLE NOTE EXCEPT FOR THE HIGHEST ONE!” he exclaimed.

Great. Way to make me feel like a rock star. I missed every note except the highest. That makes me feel better. Really, it does.

“No, no,” he says again. “This is good. Real good. As your director, I need to know these things. You’re hearing higher pitches, so you sing higher pitches. That’s good. That means I can put you in a certain range in the show. I’ll know you can sing these songs, and these songs, and not these songs or those songs. This is good, real good.”

I shrug.

This time, I’m going to chalk it up to the alcohol. Although I have become a little obsessed with “Come Together” lately…