Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

Monthly Archives: June 2012

Parking Puzzles

Wednesday’s Woes

So, I’m having a great time in Bangor, ME!  The weather is beautiful.  The people are friendly.  I’m getting some work done on my play.

Very excited to hear the little addition I made to scene 3 go in tomorrow.  Maybe I’ll never hear that question about why it takes so long for the leading lady to come back with the shotgun ever again in any future feedback session!

And it was a surprisingly easy fix.

Assuming, of course, that it is now actually fixed.

What has been challenging is parking.

It’s parallel parking.

So, okay.  I can do that.

But it’s parallel parking for only 90 minutes at a time!  (Sometimes only an hour.)

And there is a parking garage, but it closes at 9 pm–which kind of spans some of the events I’d like to attend.  So, you know, you have to go move the car during a break.

And a rental car–kind of makes it harder.  Not so sure of the exact size and shape while maneuvering unfamiliar streets and trying to squeeze into available spaces.  And, what happens if I pick the wrong spot?  And it gets towed!?  Heaven forfend!

It’s fine.  It’s all good.  I just never realized that perfect parallel parking was going to need to be in my playwright’s bag of tricks.

 

Are we in a time warp?

Tuesday Tips

Here’s a tip for you on this lovely Tuesday morning: You probably want to avoid launching a blog in the middle of a business trip. Especially if you are using all of the wonderful but somewhat wacky free software that is available to make your life a living hell easier.

Now, to be fair, I launched this website last week. But I didn’t try to incorporate an email feed until—oh, somewhere around Wednesday. And guess what? Everything worked fine.

Except the part where it’s supposed to email blog posts on the day they post.

Because the email part of the blog is a day late and a dollar short. (Well, no dollars are changing hands—so that part’s not true. But it is a day late.)

That means that if you are reading this blog via email, you are wondering why I haven’t realized that it’s actually Wednesday and not Tuesday. The thing is, I know that it’s probably Wednesday where you are. Over here in blog land, however, it’s been Tuesday since Monday.

See, I wrote the Monday post on Sunday. And I scheduled it to go out on Monday. And, if you are reading this on my website or via RSS feed, all is well. But if you subscribed to get the posts by email, you are getting things the day after they post.

I don’t know why.

I’m using free software. Free software has a hidden cost. No help. Anywhere. All kinds of forums where well-meaning and sometimes surprisingly knowledgeable users try to help you, yes, with extraordinary generosity. But no actual tech support. And, for me, that rarely works. Because I am an odd mixture. I have a great deal of knowledge about a wide range of software applications—and pockets of ignorance that would swallow Montana. So, when I run into a problem, it’s usually something totally bizarre. If it were not, I’d have solved it.

So, please bear with me while I try to solve this problem (which might be easier if I were not in airports and hotels and play readings). In the meantime, if you’re getting this by email, the space-time continuum has not slipped its leash.

It really is Wednesday where you are.

Probably.

We interrupt this broadcast…

Monday Miracles

I like that.  “Monday Miracles.”  That may become a regular feature of the blog.

But, I digress.

Which is kind of the point.

We were following a train of thought about writing, originality and finding your voice.  And, I do have more to say on that subject.

But we interrupt this broadcast to take a detour into the Monday Miracle.

Today, even as this posts, I am on my way to Bangor, Maine where my play, currently titled Angels and Ministers of Grace Defend Us (and not to be forever so titled at the insistent urging of various producer friends who surely know what they are talking about) is going to be read three times (THREE!!!) during the Penobscot Theatre’s Northern Writes New Works Festival.

How’s that for a Monday Miracle!?

I’ll try to post updates on the Festival and the play and how things are going.

Never been to Maine.
But I kinda like the music

No, wait!  That’s a different song.

The point is that I’ve never been to Maine.  I’ve never been to this hotel.  Internet access may be spotty.  If I don’t manage to post for a week, please rejoin me here on Monday, June 25th, when we return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

 

Finding your voice

The secret to originality

If there’s only one plot, as we discussed yesterday, where does originality come into play?

In your voice.

The way you string your words together.  The tone.  The vocabulary.  The choices.

This blog has—so far—a light and breezy tone.  I speak to you here in my playful voice—mostly because I can’t imagine posting day after day in total newscaster-reporting-a-disaster seriousness.  If we can’t have fun, what’s the point of being here?

But I have other voices.  I do have the newscaster-reporting-a-disaster voice.  I just don’t like it much.  I definitely have the Eeyore-voice wherein everything is gloomy, and I anticipate disaster at every turn.  I could give you melodrama or sweet sunshine or. . . .any one of thousands of voices.

We all could.

Some will come easier than others, but you’ve got to figure out what your writing project is about and what’s appropriate.

Some voices don’t work for some things.  Like when you were a kid and your mom would say, “Use your indoor voice.”

Next up:  How do you find your voice?  (Hint:  It’s probably not your ‘indoor voice.’)

The One Plot

Da-da-da-dah!         (Beethoven’s Fifth, remember?

Yesterday, I talked a little bit about my search for the 8 Plots, those mysterious archetypes, paradigms that I had been hearing teachers and fellow writers reference over the years without ever actually listing them.   I went searching and re-discovered something I have long known.  Humanity has a passion for lists!  Maybe we’re overwhelmed by the vast array of knowledge and feel like if we can just reduce portions of it to a definitive list, we would be able to master it.  (Ain’t gonna happen, but that’s another story.)

In the course of this, I found list after list of plots — The Thirty-Six Dramatic Situations, and 20 Master Plots (and How to Build Them), for example.*  Lots of lists and lots of numbers.  But, for some reason, I couldn’t come up with the more ubiquitously cited eight.

Having a pencil and paper at hand, I sat down to noodle and doodle, and I scribbled away furiously, until it suddenly came to me.  All these variations I was devising could be boiled down into one.

Every plot, at its essence, is the Quest for Salvation.  (Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, this turns out to be very similar to Joseph Campbell’s research.  Check out “The Hero With a Thousand Faces” or “The Power of Myth.”)

Test it.  Think of a book, a movie, a play.  Once you strip away the details (the mere bagatelles of setting, location, psychology, time period and so forth) and you figure out exactly how “salvation” is defined in this particular world, I think you’ll find that it works.

In all romantic comedies, Salvation = Happily Ever After.

In murder mysteries, Salvation = Solve the Crime, Catch the Murderer

In many sci-fi stories (“Independence Day,” The Terminator series), Salvation = (literally) Saving the World

The difference between a comedy and a tragedy is whether or not salvation is attained in the end.

I think that our entire body of literature can be distilled down to this one plot.

So, the good news is, you can’t come up with an original plot.  All you can do is come up with an original voice in which to write about some variation of recognizable circumstances.

And we can all do that.

 

* Lists of plots

Hasn’t everything already been said?

Why even start.

One of the big fears in starting a blog—or any other piece of writing—is that you won’t have anything original to say.  Hasn’t everything already been said?  You’d think so, wouldn’t you?  There are those billion other blogs.  And 147 million items in the Library of Congress with 10,000 more being added each day.  Seneca tells us we lost an estimated 40,000 works when the Library of Alexandria burnt.  Nobody’s quite sure, but that could have been in 48 B.C.  48 B. C., and there were already 40,000 books on the shelves!

How could there possibly be anything new to say?  Why even start? 

Just because every single person is made up of the same building blocks (ever heard of DNA?), so that we can all be traced back to some common ancestress , none of us look exactly alike.  Our fingerprints are different.  Our brainwaves are different.

You and I can start with the same thought and spin them together with all our other thoughts, and the tapestries we weave aren’t going to be identical.  Similar, maybe.  Identical.  No.  (Unless, of course, you plan on plagiarism.  If you do–don’t.)

But, in many ways, it’s time to stop worrying about originality.  “They” say that there are only 8 plots. 

Actually, there are variations on this.  There are three plots.   Twelve.  Twenty.  Thirty-Six.  Whatever.  But when I was in grad school, I would hear, over and over, that there are only 8 plots.  Many years later, in NY, when I began to write, it finally occurred to me to ask someone what those 8 plots were.  Nobody knew!  I’ve since discovered the origin of the dictum and what the 8 plots actually are.   (A good overview of the usual suspects can be found here.)

But, before I found that overview, I spent a good few hours scribbling lists of plots and trying to arrive at the definitive eight.  Along the way, I made a discovery.

There’s only one plot.

So, yeah.  Everything has already been said.

On the other hand, nobody has said it quite the way I will or you can.  So, it’s okay for us all to go ahead and write our own stories.

Stop worrying if your vision
is new.
Let others make that decision.
They usually do.
Just keep moving on.
 — Stephen Sondheim ‘Sunday in the Park with George’

So, we’ll keep moving on.  And tomorrow, I’ll tell you about the one plot.  (Seems like it should have an organ chord, doesn’t it?  And big Gothic lettering.

Tomorrow.

The One Plot

Da-da-da-dah (imagine Beethoven’s Fifth embedded here.)

Hats

The WIFM Under the Hats

Yesterday, at the very end of the WIFM post, I suggested that what’s in it for you might be under the hats. You’re probably wondering what in the world that means. So, let me try to explain.

I’ve worn a lot of hats.

(Not literally. Hats don’t look too good on me usually. Unlike one of my favorite bloggers, Havi, over at The Fluent Self who appears to be stunningly gorgeous in any hat she puts on.)

But I’ve done a lot of different things in my life. I’ve occasionally been surprisingly successful. Sometimes, I even meant to be. I’ve also stood in my own way with truly astonishing frequency.

You might find some of what I’ve learned helpful in your own journey. There’s a good chance that something in my life might resonate with something in yours. I’ve certainly done enough different things.

I’ve been a cashier and a secretary.

I’ve been a business owner.

I’ve been an actor and a director, an award-winning playwright and an audition coach.

I’ve written fiction and non-fiction—and gotten some of it published. (More to come!)

I’ve done some programming, website design and software training.

I’ve been down the Intercoastal Waterway in a 20 ft boat. (19 days on the water. On a 20 ft boat. With my husband. Still married. Achievement comes in many forms!)

I’ve been on my co-op board for like half of my natural life. (Maybe it just seems that way.)

I’ve been an extra on a Law & Order grand jury, and I’ve actually been the foreperson of a real jury. (Wow! Was that an experience!)

I took up exercise at the ripe old age of 44 (or 45). (Part of that “ripe old age” thing is that you don’t always remember exactly when something happened.) So, I’m not a jock, but I know some things about physical (un)fitness.

I’ve chickened out of lots of opportunities and seized a few. Some of them worked out great! (For example, I once stood at a stage-door and asked one of my favorite actresses in the world to read my play and got so incredibly lucky that she did a reading of it. Talk about taking a fire walk! There’s gonna be a fire walk post. Count on it.)

I’ve met with Broadway producers and Bowery bums.

I’ve lived in Sunnyside in New York City and creekside in Florida.

I’ve been married for 20 years. Or more. (Sometimes, it seems like a lot more. Those of you married any length of time know what I’m talking about.)

The whole thing has been quite an adventure – for someone who is basically a couch potato. Then again — “All serious daring starts from within.” –Eudora Welty

And this blog is another adventure. If you want to come along, we’re just going to set out on the Yellow Brick Road and see where it takes us. It’s probably going to start out in a tiny, tiny spiral pattern, almost turning in on itself. And then it’ll open up and branch out into cornfields and forests and castles with Wicked Witches and Wonderful Wizards along the way. Or head off into some other worlds entirely. You never know what you’ll find!

See you tomorrow! On the road.  Wearing our hats.

Why should you care?

The WIFM

Yesterday, I talked about why I am here.  It wasn’t quite the existential question it looks like today.  It was a little more specific than that.  The question really was “why am I blogging?”

Today, the question is “Why should you care?”  Why should what I think matter?  What’s the WIFM—“What’s In It For Me?” for you.

An excellent question.

First tip of the blog–always ask that question.  I’m not an advocate of unrelenting selfishness, but life is short.  There better be something for you in anything on which you choose to spend your precious time.  But—second tip of the blog—don’t  stop doing something or fail to start just because the answer is not immediately apparent.  Sometimes, you have to be right in amongst the trees and climbing up them before you can see the forest.

In this case. . .maybe the WIFM is  just another way to procrastinate.  Maybe some fleeting amusement.  Maybe some useful information.

Maybe not.

Like most people, the Exact Center of the Universe is wherever you happen to be, not necessarily where I am.  So my thoughts aren’t gonna be useful just because they’re my thoughts.

On the other hand, I’ve been through some stuff and learned some things that I might be able to share with you here.   Maybe that’s what’s in it for you.

Or maybe it’s what’s under the hats.  (Tune in tomorrow.)


Why Am I Here?

OMG, another blog! 

Just how many blogs do you figure there are, anyway?

As of December 2011, according to this site, it looks like there are over 2 billion people using the internet.  900 million of them are on Facebook (FB stats here)– which you could think of as kind of a mini-blog, I guess.

(I tried to figure out what percentage that was out of the 2 billion—being somewhat easily distracted by statistics–but the calculator on my Blackberry won’t let me enter 2 billion – and please don’t tell me I can use Excel or figure out what percentage 900 is of 2000.  That’s like higher math, and I’m not in the mood just now.*  This is supposed to be about words, not numbers.)

Anyway, 2 billion on the internet, and, apparently, about a billion of us have a blog.

That’s 50%.  (Even I can do that kind of math.)

And it’s now a billion and one, folks!  Here I am!

Eeek.

(That is a sound I make frequently.  One of my friends has taken to calling me Eeek-laine.)

Embarking on the new adventure of blogging.

So why am I here?  Couple of reasons, I think.—maybe more than a couple.

  1. Try something new
  2. Break through a long-standing case of Writer’s Block
  3. Force myself to improve my writing by practicing in public like Seth Godin suggests
  4. Sound off—who can resist a bully pulpit?
  5. Start a conversation—because I guess it would be only fair to listen to what you have to say, too.  (You can post comments, you know.)
  6. Give the exhibitionist in me a little bit of equal time with the inhibitionist (is that even a word?).
  7. Share some information, some thoughts, some tips, some struggles—because there’s a good chance that some of you are having the same struggles
  8. Put my website on somebody’s radar screen–since I seriously don’t want to be Emily Dickinson and die with a drawer full of unpublished/unread writing.  (Although I played Emily Dickinson once – and that’s a subject for another post.  One of the things I’ve learned in my research about blogging is it helps to have a lot of things to talk about and to spread them out.  So we’ll get to that later.)

The answer is any and all of the above—and probably some other reasons that aren’t clear yet.

Why should you care?

Let’s save that for tomorrow, shall we?

* Oh, by the way.  That calculation?  900 million/2 billion.  It’s 45%.

‘Show me this world. Open me. Change me.’

“There are those rare people who can look at the world and see things the rest of us don’t see until they show us. These are the writers. There are the special few who can take that vision and turn it back into a world. These are the directors, the designers. There are fearless beings who can live in that world and show us who we are. These are our actors. There are dedicated people who know why that world matters so very much. Crew, theater staff, producers, investors, managers, marketers. And then there are the people who step forward and say ‘Show me this world. Open me. Change me.’ These are our audiences. And when all of these people come together and say ‘Yes’, there is theater.”

–Jordan Roth in his acceptance speech for Clybourne Park winning Best Play at the Tony Awards in 2012.

Yes.

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