Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants

Category Archives: Writing

What shall I write?

Something simmering.

Ever since I wrote my play and it had its first reading, people have been asking me what else I have, telling me I should be working on something new, and wondering if I am a one-trick pony.

I have wondered that myself.

The thing is, there was a lot of work to do to get the play to a production.  Every playwright is his or her own first producer, and if you’ve got a play in which you have faith, you owe it to the play to try to be a good one.

In my case, that meant a steep learning curve since I had never approached the theatre from that angle.  In addition, I had some early luck with casting that seemed to make it imperative that I do the very best I could to insure the play got every opportunity possible.

It took longer than anyone could have possibly imagined.  Anyone, that is, except another playwright.

And I don’t know that I did everything, or even anything, right.

But the play is going to have a production—(Yay!)—and I am saved from being the Emily Dickinson of playwrights.  Whatever happens now, I will not end up with a drawer full of unproduced plays.  I might end up with a drawer full of unproduced plays and one that made it onto a stage, but it seems like whatever was paralyzing my impulse to write may have lifted.

In the last couple of days, I have been wondering what’s next.

And, at the moment, I am wondering if I could write a farce.

There’s a part of me that highly doubts it.

Farce is the form most violently dependent upon plot.  Plot is not something at which I excel.  It always seems to me that I am interested in character.  Dialogue flows somewhat rapidly from my pen (or keyboard), but, often, I am casting about for a believable situation imbued with enough conflict to get these characters I have conjured through a play or a story or, heaven forfend, a novel!

I went to see a production of Moon Over Buffalo recently, however.  And I remember, with great fondness, seeing Noises Off on Broadway in the weeks following 9/11.  At a time when we thought we could never laugh again, more than a thousand people a night were rolling in the aisles.

That production was profoundly important—a gift of incalculable value to a grieving city—and cured me forever from any tendency I might have had to look down on farce.

So, what I’m wondering now is—could I write a farce?

Maybe we’ll see.

Source material

The best place to start.

Way back, many Friday Finds ago, I wrote about The Writer’s Journey.  It’s a guide to writers based upon Joseph Campbell’s study of the monomyth of the Hero’s Journey.  Campbell’s book is also an excellent one to read.

Nothing beats the source material, however.

Of course, most of us don’t speak, let alone read, ancient Greek.  We have to get our mythology some other way.  The Golden Bough by Sir James Frazer is a good source.  Also, there are several books on mythology by Robert Graves, otherwise famous for the novel I, Claudius on which an award-winning TV series starring Derek Jacoby was based.

But, if you are just wondering who Scamander was or looking for a brief refresher on Pandora, you could do worse than consult the Encyclopedia Mythica at the well-chosen domain of pantheon.org.

There’s not a lot of poetic detail on this website, but the basic facts seem to be present.  In addition, it covers not only Greco-Roman mythology, but the stories of the world.  There’s a section on mythical beasts (basilisks, anyone?) and one on the mortal heroes, as well.  Achilles to Yoshitsune.

The order is a little capricious.  For instance, I don’t know why Pygmalion shows up in the mythology section rather than the heroes (unless it’s because Aphrodite was involved in his story), but there’s a good search function to handle these sort of classification confusions.

So, while I wouldn’t call this site the source material, it’s a good place to learn a few things.  (I never knew the Aurora Borealis is reflections off the armor of the Valkyries, did you?)  And once you’ve found something that captures your imagination, you can delve further.

You can even go to the ancient Greek if you want:  Learn Greek Online!

(The internet is a wonderful place.)

Spring has sprung

Thank goodness.

Mother Nature thinks spring sprang a while ago.  (I know it’s not a word.  The MotH* is from Hell’s Kitchen.  “Brought” is not in his vocabulary.  He “brang” things.  If he can brang, spring can sprang.)

Anyway, the trees have been leafing out, the fringe tree has flowered as have the azaleas and countless other flowering shrubs.  As far as Mother Nature is concerned, we are well along in the spring department.

I, on the other hand, don’t call it officially spring until I don’t have freeze warnings driving me to put my plants in the garage.  So, we’ll see.  They’re out now, and I think they are going to stay out.

Spring and fall are the two best seasons down here.  Warm enough to be outside and with humidity somewhere south of Oh-My-God!  The mosquitoes haven’t started buzzing, and it’s not yet hot enough to wash the windows.  (Whew!)

It’s really the time to consider any outdoor projects, but my decades of northern-ness haven’t quite convinced me to be out there working.  I’ll regret that in a few weeks, but for now, I intend to enjoy the weather.

I’m aided in that resolve by the backward blessing of the frozen shoulder.  According to my physical therapist, I’m supposed to “let the grass grow.”  (Mowing the lawn last week was not on the list of approved activities.  As I found out after the fact.  Ow!)

I have decided to interpret that instruction to include almost all forms of physical labor.  Housework has been reduced to the bare minimum, and the MotH can haul the boat out of the water himself if he wants it out.

This is the time to catch up on any light labors I can find on my To Do list.  Clearing out the file cabinet, for example.  Internet research.  I may even run out of everything else and be reduced to working on my novel.

That would be something for a Thankful Thursday, indeed.

* MotH = Man of the House

A strange and wondrous place

The universe, that is.

My play has had the most amazing life for a first play.

Readings at prestigious theatres, nominations, awards.

Participation by fabulous actors, not least of which is Linda Hamilton, whose extraordinary generosity was only exceeded by her stunning performance.

All kinds of miraculous serendipity and synchronicity on the long journey from page to stage.

It has been a long journey, indeed.  Geographically, for sure—NYC, New Jersey, Virginia, California, Maine.  Professionally as well—so many smart people sharing their expertise and their advice.  Personally—maybe personally, most of all, as I’ve had to challenge myself to master new skills, to be more assertive, to stand up for myself and others.

I’ve learned so much along the way.  Did a few things right and several things wrong.  Had a fabulous adventure, and the play hasn’t even been produced.

Yet.

And that’s the miracle today.

I have signed a contract.

At long last, Angels and Ministers of Grace Defend Us, will be getting a production!

The specific time slot hasn’t been set, yet, but at some point before the end of 2014, you can see my work at New Jersey Rep.

I’m so looking forward to the opportunity to see the play on its feet.  Costumes, props, a set!  Maybe I’ll get to tinker with the script, make it better.

And what’s even more of a miracle is that maybe I will finally be able to turn my attention to writing another one.  (Although, you know, I’ve never been sure how I came to write this one—so we’ll see.  No promises.)

I’m just going to take a short break from worrying about all of it and enjoy the newest part of the ongoing miracle.

I’m getting a production!

But, first, I’m getting some cake.

Priorities, you know.

What’s a celebration without cake?

 

 

October Project

Mythic music.

I found October Project in one of those weird episodes of synchronicity that happen in every life.

Once upon a time, I was an early-career director in NYC.  I got asked to direct a lot of readiings.  It’s a great way to gain experience in some, although not all, aspects of the directors’ craft.

Anyway, I landed a gig directing a reading of a short piece called A Play on Words by Eileen Weiss.  Eileen’s play was funny and quirky and full of marvelous writing.  We gathered actors and set to work.

One of the actors we gathered was a young woman named Julie Flanders.  Julie and her husband Emil Adler had just started a band.

October Project.

And Julie gave me a CD of their self-titled debut album.

So, of course, I listened to it.

And wow!

Intricate vocal harmonies.  Clear crystalline voices.  Haunting melodies.  And beautiful, evocative, even mythic words.

So, here is a link to a music video of October Project’s Return to Me from that album.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gm9kQdIFObY

And another, Ariel, which I love because of the connection to Shakespeare’s The Tempest.  (Flapdoodle!)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ga53vmcb2s

And you can find Julie, Emil and Marina here.

Oh, the reading?

We did it at Barnes & Noble.  It went great!

270!

I win.

Not a presidential election, unfortunately.  (Or fortunately!  Who would want that job?)

I’m not talking about electoral college votes but consecutive days of blog posts.  270 consecutive days!  Three-quarters of a year!

Cake!

I look back, and I wonder how I did it.

I look forward, and I wonder what comes next.

Today, however, I wonder will I make my quota?

One post in front of the other.  That’s how it’s done.  There are no shortcuts.

If your goal is 30 minutes of exercise a day, you can’t achieve it in 25 minutes.

It’s an interesting point.  And something I will remember in future goal-setting endeavors.  A goal based on churning out some regular quantity isn’t subject to streamlining.  I mean, you can shave minutes off a distance goal.  All you can do with a time goal is add distance to it.  It still takes the same amount of time.

I foresee a review of my monster To Do List to see which projects are open to efficiency improvements and which just take the time they take.  I suspect the latter would be good candidates for outsourcing.  You know, if I had a staff—or the money to pay them.

I wonder how such a review would turn out.  I think I’ve already gotten things down to where I’m as efficient as I can be—but maybe not.  Maybe there are a few more hours for mumblety-peg.*

I also wonder if that really loud sighing noise my air compressor makes is okay, but that’s probably a whole other topic.  It does seem to be working very hard on this cold, cold morning, though.

That’s one thing outsourced to technology, however.

I don’t have to cut firewood.

Instead, I can sit here in moderate warmth, plotting my 271st blog entry and wondering when the heater can take a rest.

 

* mumblety-peg = whatever you want to do.  (It comes from Cheaper by the Dozen,  by Frank B. Gilbreth, Jr. and Ernestine Gilbreth—a wonderful book about their family life with Frank B. Gilbreth, Sr., a pioneer of motion study. )

Someone once asked Dad: “But what do you want to save time for? What are you going to do with it?”

“For work, if you love that best,” said Dad. “For education, for beauty, for art, for pleasure.” He looked over the top of his pince-nez. “For mumblety-peg, if that’s where your heart lies.”

TIALY!

Huh?

TIALY is an acronym my friend, Amy, and I use.  Amy had some wrist issues, once upon a time, and was using a dictation program to type.  If you’ve ever used a dictation program, you know that they are prone to errors.  This particular one, however, has entered our email and texting lexicon.  (I don’t mean the universal “our;” just Amy’s and mine.)

What Amy was trying to write was “This is hilarious.”

What the software heard was “This is a Larry, yes?”

It just struck us funny.  We laughed and laughed.  And then we decided that the comparative and superlative forms for conveying electronic amusement are:

LOL
ROFL
and…

TIALY!

None of which really has anything to do with this post, but I thought you needed to understand the headline.  And I don’t really have that much to say about this Friday’s Find, except that I find it hilarious.

It’s a term of art.  (‘Term of art’ is sort of the same thing as saying ‘technical terminology’ but, hey, we all know that I, for one, prefer art.)

It’s a term of art in the world of typesetting.

The term is CamelCase.

I don’t know why, but I find it highly amusing.  (Probably goes back to that old vaudeville tenet that K sounds are funny.*)

Anyway, if you haven’t encountered this term before it’s the term for what you see there—CamelCase —where there is a capital letter in the middle of a word.  Like ‘iPod’—a very famous example of CamelCase.

It’s called that because the capital in the middle reminded somebody of the hump on a camel’s back.

And because “camel” is funny.

TIALY!

Minor miracles

Are sometimes the best

I have a new notebook (the old-fashioned kind—with paper) today.  And a newly filled fountain pen.  The possibilities are endless.

It doesn’t seem like much, does it?  But this is the notebook and pen I will use for Morning Pages for many weeks to come.  Having a new one means a) I’ve filled the old one—proof of adherence to a habit I’ve come to value and b) a renewed commitment to it.

Of course, I’ve always loved new notebooks and pens since long before Morning Pages.  The best thing about a new school year was the new supplies.  Notebooks, pencil boxes, a lunch box.  (I’m thinking I may shop for a lunch box again.  I’ve nowhere to go that requires me to pack a lunch, but maybe a nice lunch box would prompt me to think ahead about a decent meal every day.  Maybe.)

I do love computers, but a notebook and a pen are slightly more versatile.  You can take a notebook out on a boat, for instance.  It will function without electric cords, adapters or batteries.  They come smaller and lighter than cell phones, even, the better to scribble notes on the go.

I like my notebooks to be of the non-fancy type.  Don’t get me wrong.  I dearly love to look at the leather bound beauties in the stationery store or the ones with ornate cloth covers.  It’s just that I am intimidated by the artistry of the binding.  Surely a  notebook of this type, I think, must be reserved for thoughts of the highest order.  Consequently, I never have any thoughts at all when faced with such an exquisite holder for them.

I did once see something that might have given me the best of both worlds, but I didn’t buy it in time, and they don’t carry it anymore.  It was a leather cover for the old-fashioned composition books.  You know the kind.  You can get them for $1 now.  This cover was removable.  You could have the pleasure of a leather-clad notebook, but it could be replaced when full.

Self-indulgence without waste.

If I ever see it again, I’m buying it without hesitation.

Meantime, I have a new notebook!

Anti-

Hero

The term “anti-hero” is defined as a protagonist who lacks the nobility of mind, spirit and action that generally characterizes a hero.

Meet John Dortmunder.

Dortmunder is the main character of some 14 novels by Donald E. Westlake.

He’s a burglar.

He’s not a very good burglar, although he generally comes out okay in the end.  He doesn’t usually gain much money, but he manages to stay out of jail.  So far (I’ve read five of the books to date), he hasn’t killed anybody (unlike the previously reviewed Jack Reacher who is more of a traditional “good guy”—with, it must be said, quite a few anti-heroic qualities of his own).

It’s hard to describe these books.  Westlake’s plots are among the most inventive I’ve ever seen.  He has a gift for idiosyncratic characters and for letting their behavior reveal their personalities.  Sometimes, you think he’s teetering on the brink of caricature—oh, who am I kidding?  He’s not teetering; he’s dangling over the edge of the abyss—but he always manages to drag himself back up the cliff.  His similes and metaphors are quirky and surprisingly apt.

Dortmunder and his gang get involved in the most insane capers.  In many respects, these are screwball comedies on paper (or Kindle, as the case may be).  I read them with a kind of breathless amazement as they set out to do a simple heist and end up stealing whole trains.  They are, perhaps, a little overly blessed by unusually inattentive and downright dumb police officers, but by the time that happens, I’m usually so involved in the intricacies of the whole plan that I am not one to quibble over how poor sad sack Dortmunder manages to escape his just deserts this time.

There have been a few films made based on these novels.  I’ve seen none of them.  In one, Robert Redford played Dortmunder—which leads me to surmise that the script was based so loosely on the book as to be unrecognizable, or somebody executed the most egregious casting error in the history of film.  Although I have to admit to curiosity, which, when you get right down to it, is probably a big part of what keeps me reading these wacky books.

How’s it going to come out? is what I keep asking myself.

You will, too.

It’s always better

When I plan ahead.

Living in the moment is good.  You don’t want to miss the present because you’re lamenting the past or worrying about the future.  And bitter experience has taught me that plans come unraveled all the time.  If you’re not flexible, you’re miserable.

That said, I am thankful today for those times when I plan ahead for those things that can make life easier.

It’s the little things.

Getting all the good china and silver out the day before the holiday meal.  Having wrapping paper on hand before the gifts even come into the house.  Encouraging my sister to test the online video call software before Christmas is actually upon us and my mom wants to see her grandchildren.  (Okay.  That’s a big thing.)

There are lots of little habits and “be prepared” actions that make life simpler.  I’m not advocating OCD-like behavior, but the MotH* really wants coffee in the mornings, and he won’t drink it without milk, and he gets kind of grumpy about it.  So, checking that we have milk—to say nothing of coffee—is one way to have a quiet life.  (To be fair, if we screw that up, he’s perfectly willing to get on his bicycle and go down to the 7-Eleven.)

Today, I am thankful that I planned ahead about this blog.

Can you imagine having to interrupt a video call with the nieces and nephews or, heaven forfend, your own present opening to sit down and draft a blog post?  When your mother is visiting?

That’s just not a good scenario.

So, I am a little bit proud of myself that I thought ahead.  These may not be the best blog posts ever, but I got them done and scheduled before company arrived.

I am issuing metaphorical gold stars to myself.

I am also wondering a little what plainly self-evident thing I have forgotten to do that will have jumped up to bite me between the time I schedule this post and the time it appears.  There’s bound to be something.

Oh, well.

Maybe it will make a good post for the future!

 

* MotH = Man of the House

 


View Elaine Smith's profile on LinkedIn