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Intermission
a creative coffee break from writing the play

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If we make well-crafted plays that express the essence of what it is to be human, then theatre will have a future...
Raymond Bobgan, Artistic Director, Cleveland Public Theatre
AT25: An Eye on the Future, American Theatre, April 2009

Letting Go

October 26th, 2007

I started a post about my home state of California, the wildfires there being very much on my mind. I cannot finish it. Too emotional, too much of a diatribe, too much too much too much. Suffice to say, I am glad the San Diego friends I have heard from are safe, and as okay as they can be.

I am a far better playwright than I ever will be a blogger. Or a journaler. I love playwriting, and despite the declared "odds"  of production bemoaned, I cannot not write plays. There are all kinds of us out there, and I am glad for that. I don’t see other playwrights as my competition. I don’t ask them to write the way I write, or see plays the way I do. When I see or read a play, I set myself to go along with the journey. I assume the playwright has worked hard, and had something important to impart. Why else bother with the theatre? Or writing at all? ‘Tis a mystery to me.

Sure there are oft times I cannot go along with the journey. It’s in those plays, I start counting blackouts, scenes, wonder what the inciting incident could-be-if-it’s-there-at-all, ponder why act two came before act one, and ask myself if can I really leave at intermission with no one noticing with an audience of ten. Even so, I rarely re-write the play into my own mold. It’s a bit of waste of time, as I see it at the moment. And I always reserve the right to change my opinion. I hope opinions, unlike values, are not static.

In good plays and bad, I am aware I would have made different choices than the playwright whose play I am reading or watching. I’ve learned a lot from bad plays on how not to write one. I’ve learned equally or more from great plays. What I learn may not have anything to do with what you learn. While I stake my right to judge your play my cup of tea or no, I relinquish my right to declare you a bad playwright because I don’t like what you do. There’s no point to it except to make me feel better about my own plays languishing in the lit manager’s pile.

I know my work may not be your cup of tea. You may not like my plays. Some people clearly don’t. Yet there are people who do like my plays. Hell, some people even love ‘em, and have championed ‘em. As playwrights, what we share, I hope, is that we understand the artistic process, and while we are different in our approach in our plays, I always hope playwrights will support each other. Support does not mean we don’t challenge each other. MBH can attest to that. It means we do not dismiss each other.

For those of you googling, "writing a play," I continue to believe it’s important that (1) playwrights learn play structure. How can you break rules unless you know what they are? (2) See as much theatre as possible. If you don’t go to the theatre, why are you writing for it? (3) Be nice to actors. Do I have to explain that one? (4) Respect for the audience. Respect does not mean kowtow. Look it up. Look ‘em both up.

My own playwriting process has become quite simple, and very personally powerful: The story is ready to be written when I can see major pieces of it on the stage (in my mind of course you sillies). Then write what I call a "beat sheet" which is my guide to the story when I feel lost. Discard beats when more is revealed by the characters or story in the writing. I let go of worrying about structure, and let the play form as theatrically as possible, breaking whatever "rules" the story demands of me. The one rule I have not  yet broken is the one that lets you know within the first ten minutes where I’m asking you to go. And a personal rule is that I cannot start writing a play until I know what the basic ending of the play will be. What I mean by that is not every single thing that constitutes the end. It may be a very strong image, interaction, feeling, or even three lines of dialogue. Those things work for me, and have eliminated my own "second act" failures.

And a personal pledge to myself:  to not give away my authority on my own work to you.

I am about to step my toes into the Louisville waters, and create a
playwrights group. So, you can imagine why playwrights are on my
mind. I need a new Safe Group to hear my work in progress.

Posted in Process