Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

Monthly Archives: June 2012

Mowing your script

Landscaping and writing a play—something in common?

So, I was mowing the lawn yesterday.  And it occurred to me that writing a play is a little bit like creating and maintaining a beautiful yard.  (Full disclosure:  I don’t have a beautiful yard.  Yet.  But I’m working on it.)

Your first draft is the planting stage.  The grass seed goes in, the sod gets laid.

Second and third, maybe even fourth and fifth, are the cultivation stage.  This is where you do the watering and fertilizing—and the cross-pollination of submitting the script to theatres and producers.

Once it grows to the point where you are having readings, however, you’ve got to get out the weed-whacker and start trimming.  Clear out the underbrush, cut down the weeds.  Put things in order.

If the audience can’t navigate around that lovely flower bed of a plot complication you planted in scene two, you’ve either got to lay some paving stones and make a path, or you’ve got to dig it up and throw it out.

If the sub-plot has turned into an invasive plant, sprouting seedlings all over the place and distracting people from the point you were trying to make, you might want to get a machete and chop it down.

Even if the landscape is looking pretty good, there are going to be a few weeds sprouting up here and there.  Some judicious trimming never hurts.

I don’t know.  Possibly it’s a pretty obvious metaphor.  Maybe I’m in danger of pushing it too far.

But there’s something in it.  It seems to me that I might have an easier time cutting some of my favorite lines, if I think of it this way.

I want the grass to grow well.  And lavishly.

But I still have to mow.

Why aren’t you writing?

The obstacle course

You say you want to write.  You start a project.  And then you stop.

Why?

It’s pretty fashionable these days to attribute all lack of forward motion to fear.  Fear of failure, fear of success, fear that your mother will be mad that you used her in your novel (she won’t—she won’t even recognize herself), fear that you won’t have anything to say (you will), fear that your writing will reveal something about you that you don’t want people to know (yes, but probably not the way you think).

Some of those fears can and will stand in the way.

But sometimes it’s other stuff.

You’re lazy.
You’re busy.
You’re tired.
You’re bored.
You’re on Facebook.

Set a timer for ten minutes if you’re lazy.  You only have to write for ten minutes.

Are you busy with what you really want to be doing?  Don’t let the urgent crowd out the important.

Resolve to get more sleep.  Write first thing in the morning.  Before you have time to get tired.

You’re bored?  Best cure for that…tell yourself a story.  And write it down.

You’re on Facebook?  There’s no getting around that one.  You’ve gotta get off Facebook.  Just for a while.  (You can always set up a blog and link it to Facebook.  Two birds.  One stone.  It could work.  When I’ve figured that part out, I’ll let you know.  Except I won’t have to announce it.  If you’ve already friended me on Facebook, you’ll see it happen.)

The point is there are always obstacles.  Are you going to let them stop you?  Or are you going to get past them?

Over, around, under, through.

Whatever it takes.

Finding Your Voice – pt 2

What are you about?

A while back–something like 10 days or so–before I went to Maine–I posted about “Finding Your Voice” and how, if there’s really only one plot, the originality in your writing lies in the way you string your words together, and the tone you use.

But how do you choose?  How do you find that voice?

Well, first, finding the right voice for your piece has a lot to do with what it’s about.

There’s a larger question, though.

What are you about?

One of the things writing how-to gurus say is you have to know what you want to write about before you start.

This is one of those lies the world tells you.

You don’t have to know before you start.  You just have to know before you finish.

(We’re talking fiction, now.  If you’re writing non-fiction, it’s pretty clear that you’ve got to know you’re writing about jelly fish before the first word goes down on paper or up on the screen.  Otherwise, you could end up with an article on grizzly bears, and your editor is not going to be happy.)

Don’t get me wrong.  It would be really helpful to know your entire plot, to say nothing of every bit of your characters’ back story, and the themes and symbols you’ll include.  And I am sure that there are some writers who are fortunate enough to have all that worked out in their heads before they begin.

I’m not one of them.

For a long time, I thought that meant I wasn’t a writer.  But, guess what?  It doesn’t.  A writer writes.

Almost everything I’ve ever written has been worked out in the writing.

It’s only after I’m in the middle of it that I begin to have some idea of what it’s about.

And, guess what?

I’ve written enough now to begin to have some idea of what I’m about.

You will, too.  Just get started.

Play Readings

Two ways to go

When you get a reading of your play, and it’s close enough for you to attend, there is an inherent dilemma for a playwright.  Do you go to the rehearsals?  Or stay away?

The first thing to know, of course, is that the writer has the absolute right to attend rehearsals.  If you want to go, you go.  But should you?

The benefits to going are pretty clear.

  • You can answer any questions and head off any misinterpretations.
  • You can see for yourself where actors’ tongues trip over your finely crafted phrases.
  • You’ll be prepared.  If things aren’t going so well, it won’t be such a shock during the reading itself.
  • You get to hear the play multiple times–during rehearsal as well as during the reading—and that can help you enormously with an understanding of pace and plot and Thespis knows what..

On the other hand, you can make the cast and the director nervous.  When I was wearing my acting hat, there was always a little extra anxiety when the playwright showed up.  Often, for readings, the writer hasn’t been involved in the casting process and may have been assigned a director, as well.  So, they can, and probably will, be wondering if the playwright is happy with the choices.  They’ve probably got enough to handle without that.

Even if the actors are comfortable with you and eager for the writer’s input, you might be taking time that the director could more profitably spend on something else.

And, if you aren’t used to readings and the process, you can panic.  OMG, will the leading man ever get that laugh line right?  Why does the leading lady insist on whispering during the fight scene?  Chances are the director sees and hears all these problems and is biding her time to deal with them.  Good directors have an internal priority list.  Often they know the actors and know what will right itself and what needs their intervention.  It doesn’t help for you to be sitting there chewing your fingernails and tapping your foot until you get a chance to speak up.

Staying away allows you to avoid those pitfalls and offers you one invaluable upside.

You’ll hear the play fresh—or as fresh as is ever possible when you’ve written and rewritten and read and reread.  You’ll be less inclined to think the reading is going well when all that’s really happening is that it is going better than it did in rehearsal.  Your objectivity will not be compromised by familiarity with the participants.

In the end, you’ve got to make up your own mind in every situation.  I’ve done it both ways.  Early in my adventures with my play, it seemed so important to be there for every minute.  And I’m glad I chose to attend rehearsals for the early readings.

I’m also glad I chose not to go to the rehearsals for the latest readings at the Penobscot Theatre.

I think I was less distracted by my internal actor and my internal director, and I was better able to focus on the writing.

I think.

The thing about choices is that you have to choose.  Once you’ve chosen, you can’t have the other choices.  And you’ll never really know what would have happened if you had.

 

Everything is a learning experience…

Tuesday’s Travel Tips

I thought I was late with today’s post, but it turns out it’s only Monday as I’m writing this.  Not Tuesday, as I thought.  (Although it is Tuesday as you are reading it.  Or possibly Wednesday.  [Still having trouble with that email feed being a day late.  Going to fix it soon, though.  I hope.])

Chalk my confusion up to an entire Sunday spent zig-zagging up and down the east coast, trying to get back from Maine, eight solid hours of which were spent just sitting in airports.

(So the first of this Tuesday’s tips is “Don’t do that.”)

And then there was a tropical storm and a late night drive home through a deluge.

I slept in this morning.

Then I had to/wanted to email everybody involved in the Northern Writes New Works Festival to thank them for all their hard work and talent and for including me and my play.

But now I am able to turn my attention to other things, and–aha!–I remember I have a blog post to do!

It seems like the best thing I can do is tell you a little bit about what I learned on my recent travels.

  1. The Kia Soul is not a bad little car!  And that weird lime green means you won’t lose it in a parking lot.  (If you can find one in Maine.)  Thanks, Avis!
  2. It’s kind of a good idea to bring an empty plastic water bottle to the airport. It weighs nothing, you have no problem with security, because it’s empty–and then you can fill it with water at a water fountain inside.  You stay hydrated without spending a fortune on airport beverages.
  3. Speaking of airport food. . .if you happen to be at Reagan International and decide to buy a burger at Five Guys, be aware that a burger to them is actually two burgers on one bun.  If you want a normal burger, you have to order a Little Hamburger.  (Maybe it’s like that at all Five Guys.  I don’t know.  I don’t eat there much, but I ended up with more than I wanted to eat this time.)
  4. My best travel accessory is my jacket with all the pockets!  So easy to slip the mp3 player in one, the Kindle in another, the ID in a third and so on.  Plus, it keeps you warm.  (See tip # 5.)  I may even bring my fishing vest next time, although that wouldn’t help with the warmth issue.
  5. The row immediately behind the emergency exit row is kind of cold.  There’s a little gap and a big draft around that exit panel, and it’s freezing at 30,000 feet.
  6. Row 4 on the US Airways shuttle from DC to La Guardia has extra leg room–but you’ve got to stow all your carry-on stuff (including your laptop) in the overhead bin for take-off and landing.
  7. Hoot Suiteis great for keeping you connected to social media when you can’t find a free WiFi connection for your laptop.  It works well even on a tiny Blackberry!and, the most important travel tip of all…
  8. Try to hang on to your sense of humor.

Anybody else got any good travel tips?  Comments welcome!

Touchdown!

Today’s Monday Miracle is that I am back home in Florida.

(At least, I hope so.  This post was written ahead of time–so I wouldn’t forget.  But unless you’ve heard of something unmentionable involving airplanes yesterday, it’s a pretty safe bet.)

And thank goodness.

Because I have a hard time believing in air travel.

And it is disconcerting to participate in something that seems so unlikely.

I mean, have you ever seen an airplane?!

Usually, I don’t really look at the airplanes I’m boarding.  I walk down an enclosed jetway through a portal and sit down in a seat inside a tube (sort of).  But when you travel to and from Maine, you get to be bussed across the tarmac, hand your rollaboard over to a guy with a cart (because even the carry-on won’t fit on the plane), and climb a set of stairs with the airplane attached.

Large as life and twice as natural.

Now, a plane to Maine is small.  But it’s bigger than anything I know how to get up into the air.

So it seems unlikely that air travel is actually possible.

But it must be.  Because here I am.  Back home in Florida, when yesterday I was in Maine.

Whew!

Oops!

Sorry Sunday

Traveling today!

Not enough thinking ahead!

No substantive blog post.  Ooops.

Use this time to write something of your own!

Summer Days

Friday Finds

Here’s a little known secret!

(Actually, it is probably well known to everybody, but I now have first hand knowledge.)

Maine might be a great place to spend the summer.

Now, I admit my acquaintance with the great state of Maine is only 5 days old, but I left 90 degree weather and 90% humidity back in Florida, and it might get up to 87 today here in Maine.  I’m not sure they know what humidity is.

It’s absolutely beautiful, and it’s June.  (It is, in fact, the kind of day June brides dream about.)

I’m thinking I may have to come back here some time without the all-absorbing obligations of play festivals.

It could be good.

The stuff that’s going well!

Thankful Thursdays

On Thursdays, I think it might be good to talk about what’s going well.  Since it’s all too easy to focus on problems and challenges.

Today, I am thankful for all the people who have done so much to support and encourage my play.  Right now, I am grateful to the latest cast who are working so hard:  Julie Lisnet, Katie Toole, Randy Hunt and Arthur Morrison, directed by Marcia Douglas.  And Mary (whose last name I cannot remember — oh, no! — but I will find out).  Mary is doing a fine job with the stage directions.  [Update:  Mary’s last name is Clark.  Mary Clark!]

Don’t let anybody ever tell you that reading the stage directions is no big deal.

It’s a huge deal!

And, of course, I am grateful to the Penobscot Theatre Company.  Artistic Director Bari Newport, Managing Director Marcie Bramucci, and the indefatigable and unfailingly cheerful Jasmine Ireland who is the Director of Education and Outreach and the curator of this Northern Writes New Works Festival.

We’re having a blast here in Bangor!


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