For twenty years, I was a fearless selfish Jaguar, prowling Planet Earth. On assignment with HarperCollins, Birnbaum, and Fodor’s travel guides, I wrote books on Seoul, Chicago, Florida, Santa Fe, and Grand Cayman.
I also crafted first person travel essays about terrifying experiences: kayaking with ten-ton orca killer whales, swimming with giant whale sharks, and getting face to face with ferocious wild polar bears. I scaled snow-covered mountains, collapsing with altitude sickness. I swam in Hudson Bay Canada with beluga whales and almost drowned. In Trinidad, I nearly stepped on a fer-de-lance, a poisonous snake. The more scared I got, the better the travel tale. My editors were thrilled. I won travel-writing awards for being crazy. I was ridiculously happy.
You know what’s coming next, right? Happiness screeched to a halt.
My husband and business partner, filmmaker/ photographer Warren Lieb, was stricken with cancer, Parkinson’s, and incontinence. Our life changed from enthralling adventures to life threatening procedures, surgeries, and emergency room visits.
I resigned from my newspaper and magazine contracts, staying home to Nurse my Beloved. Warren declined, transforming from a courageous handsome “Indiana Jones,” to a desiccated old man stuck in a wheelchair.
One morning he tenderly smiled, then said “I will always adore you Sharon, my Love.” Gently, slowly, he exhaled his last breath. Watching his soul floating upward out of his disease ravaged body, I cried: “Goodbye my Love. Please don’t leave me alone.”
Travel inspires plays, paintings and articles. Google “Jungle Eyes” to read Sharon Baker’s new adventure essay on how Costa Rica changed her life.
All of us who have mourned beloveds, know the Terror of being Alone.
Curled up in bed for weeks, I succumbed to lethargy, ambivalence, and self-pity. Why eat? Why bathe? Why do anything? One rainy afternoon, I had this Dream:
“Why should I stay alive?” I asked no one.
“Why should you die?” a gentle energy replied. “Don’t you realize more is coming?”
“Everything you need and desire is within you.
Don’t you believe me?”
“ Absolutely not.”
I woke up. I hate touchy feely Spirit Guides stalking me.
I called four girlfriends for help.
“Ya gotta help me. I’m so screwed up, Spirit Guides are telling me to think positive,” I complained.
But I got out of bed, ready to reclaim my Jaguar self.
Sharon writes plays about endangered wildlife. Her Polar Bear painting is titled “Looking for Ice”.
Shortly after that dream, I started getting myself together. Friends buffed and fluffed me, and one posted me on dating sites. I endured a few awful dates and gave up.
But one handsome man from a nearby town courted me by email, phone, and finally, an in person date. We both loved theater, music, movies, food, travel, and laughter. Who was this rainbow guy? Kenny Baker, a retired businessman, passionate about golf and living joyfully. “I’ve been looking for you for 12 years,” he smiled. I moved to his vibrant town, Bluffton, South Carolina, met new gal pals, and gave thanks for my blessings. We were married a year later, in a joyous celebration.
So happy. And yet restless. I tried mahjong. Tried tennis. Listened to other senior women wax ecstatic about their grandchildren. I wandered through Publix, Target, and the Library.
I missed my globetrotting life. Yet the 24/7 merry-go-round schedule of a travel journalist was more for an energetic workaholic in her 40’s and 50’s, than me at 65. Was there anything left for me to accomplish?
Missy Gentile, an astonishing Artist and wise Art teacher got my creativity flowing again. “Throw paint on your canvas, Sharon. Don’t be afraid to mess up. The only rule: there are no rules.” So, like a blissful kindergartner, I created whimsical colorful paintings of, you guessed it: Polar bears, whale sharks, coral reefs, and mountains. Dozens of paintings and two gallery shows later, I could feel the ferocity and fearlessness of my old Jaguar self.
During art classes with Missy, I realized my life as a travel journalist is a cornucopia of stage worthy stories.
In addition to plays, Sharon Baker creates whimsical nature paintings. Title: My Beloved Seahorse.
Remembering my life changing experience at the Dalai Lama’s Palace in Lhasa, Tibet, I wrote a one act play: “Birthday Party at the Dalai Lama’s Palace.” About ambition, confusion, and unexpected blessings at the world’s coolest palace. Sort of Monty Python meets the Wizard of Oz….
The two leads ask: Does my life matter? Will I ever see my dead family/friends again? This play enabled me to become an Associate Member of DGA and I’m following all the incredible opportunities we members are offered.
I wrote a ten-minute play, “Love and Death in Eden, Australia.” A strange tale from a visit to Eden, Australia: about orca killer whales rounding up humpback whales, and delivering them to humans who harpoon them to death. The play is about murder, passion, and a woman’s discovery of her bizarre identity.
Eden Australia, the setting for my bizarre comedy, “Love and Death in Eden Australia “.
On Monday July 28, my dream of becoming a first time Playwright came true. Sitting in the audience at the Aventura Arts and Cultural Center in Aventura Florida, I was thrilled and terrified. My ten minute play was about to go from page to stage as part of “Stages of the Sun,” an evening of 8 new innovative short plays, presented by The South Florida Theatre League.
My play, “Love and Death in Eden Australia “ was presented in Miami Florida. Near the theater, I met another inspirational writer. Keep writing he said!
As a DG Associate Member, I’m grateful for all the support and mentoring on this new journey. I’m 65 years young, still a glorious Jaguar.
Sharon Baker is a new Associate member of The Dramatist’s Guild of America and The Playwright’s Center, Minneapolis.
Google her travel essays, under Sharon Spence Lieb.
This is my favorite photo. It was taken on my balcony overlooking the East Village on a hot August afternoon in 2012. I'd just returned home from the hospital after ten days in the Neurology Unit. The brain bleed didn't kill me. One aneurysm was coiled. I fell in love with several doctors. My family and friends stayed by my side. They dazzled me. They showered me with gifts and small acts of kindness: a Scrabble game, a new nightgown, coffee with half & half, warm socks, an i-Pad. Oh, I was happy to be home. My survival made me feel ... radiant!
Even before my sister posted "Diary of a Stroke" on Facebook, illness informed my writing. Several months after exchanging wedding vows at City Hall, my husband was disabled by an aortic aneurysm. When John died in 1995, our daughter was eight years old. Jessie and I learned a valuable lesson: You can mourn and still experience joy.
Today, many things give me joy. Babysitting for granddaughters Tallulah John and Ellery Connor tops the list. I serve as the Creative Consultant at an Off-Broadway theatre, expanding opportunities for theatre artists through an initiative, "Urban Stages New Pages." I’m a member of several theatre companies (Articulate, T.A.R.T.E., and FAB @ Barrow Group), and a spanking new member of the 44-year old American Renaissance Theatre Company.
Monthly, I attend collegial and professional playwriting groups, fiddle with my website, and update my resume. Actually, I have two of them. One resume is for public use; the other is color-coded by year. It's called "Since I Had Brain Surgery." Since my life-threatening illness in August 2012 to date, I've had 21 publications, 69 productions, 41 readings, and 51 honors/awards. Five films were shown in NYC, several Florida venues, and Ireland; three webisodes just wrapped shooting in LA. I produced nine short play series at Urban Stages; co-produced nine one-act and ten-minute play festivals at Abingdon Theatre; and facilitated the "Pencils Down: FAB's Monologue Mania Workshop" and reading at The Barrow Group. I also directed eleven short plays (Abingdon, Artistic New Directions, Urban Stages). I am fiercely proud of these accomplishments.
Weekly, I browse through the Playwright Forum listings, the Official Playwrights of Facebook blog, the DG Regional Digest, Go Fund Me requests, and the ICWP connect list and eblasts. The latter caught my eye. Without hesitation, I donated to ICWP’s new Development Fund to help provide women playwrights with opportunities for women around the world.
In fact, this New Yorker was the recipient of a SWAN Day grant from ICWP in 2009 for my work with recovering drug addicts at Women-in-Need. The weekly workshop, “Communicate Sober,” was co-taught by Jan Buttram, former AD at Abingdon Theatre Company. While we’d planned to teach the playwriting course for ten weeks, we offered the weekly class for an entire year, until the outreach site closed and moved to Harlem. The ICWP SWAN Day grant enabled us to present a reading of our work, performed by professional actors at an Off-Broadway theatre. Subsequently, we received an Honorable Mention for our collaborative work by the NY Coalition of Professional Women in the Arts & Media in Jan. 2011 and a Poets & Writers Grant Teaching Artist grant. Our program was also featured in a Care Management Journal (Springer Publishing), entitled "Who Said 75 is Old?" However, my proudest moment was when two of our students passed their GEDs (high school equivalency test), and received honors in their writing! It was a humbling experience.
In addition to this integral funding, ICWP has also promoted my personal work: "Raison d'etra" in Mother/Daughter Monologues, JAC Publications (2009); "Unconditionally" in Diverse Scenes for Actors, JAC Publications (2013); and Honorable Mention for "Planned Obsolescence" in the 3-Minute ICWP 3-minute contest (2018) I completed the play and had a production in January 2019.
In summary: Over the years, my life has been enriched by small acts of kindness. And while I’ll never look like this seven-year old photo again, I want to FEEL like it as often as possible. So here’s the bottom line: If you haven’t done so already, please consider donating to ICWP’s Development Fund. This small act of kindness can support and enhance more than one playwright’s life – possibly an entire community! Just … consider it.
Bara Swain's plays and monologues have been performed across the country in more than 120 venues in 25 states and abroad. NYC theatres include The Barrow Group, Urban Stages, Abingdon Theatre, Articulate Theatre Company, Athena Theatre, Sam French OOB Festival, Artistic New Directions, Project Y Theatre, Symphony Space, Players Theatre, Rising Sun, Ego Actus, Kaufmann Theatre, Gallery Players, Turnip Theatre, NY Madness, Stage Left, Polaris North, T.A.R.T.E., Aching Dogs, and Greenhouse Ensemble. Other venues include NJ Repertory, TheatreWorks (TN), Lyric Theatre (FL), New American Theatre and Open Fist (CA), Old Opera House (WV), Potluck Productions (MO), OnStage Atlanta (GA), and Short+Sweet Festivals (Hollywood, Canberra, Sydney, Dubai).
I’ve been thinking about feedback lately. About the fact that there are a lot of different feedback situations and constellations. We’re all very different, both as givers and receivers of feedback. I’ve been given some tips about different feedback models and as soon as I have the time I’m going to read about them. However, at the moment I find that I need to sort out my own thoughts on the subject. So that’s what I’m doing here. All of this is about theatre and playwriting. That’s the context.
Feedback can come at different points on the writing process:
A. While you are writing, but before there’s a production.
B. During the production process, so during the planning stage or during rehearsals.
C. After the run of the play is over. This might include the run itself. I’m having trouble placing that part of the process at the moment.
At all these different points the premise and the reception of feedback are different. That’s what I’d like to write about now, but I realise that I haven’t really thought this through yet:
Feedback can happen between two people, one-on-one, or in a group.
D. One-on-one with someone who isn’t directly involved in a production of the play.
E. One-on-one with someone who is directly involved in the production of the play, like the director.
F. In a group of people who aren’t directly involved in a production of the play, like a writers’ group.
G. In a group of people who are directly involved in a production of the play, like the ensemble who are going to perform it.
The relationship between the person, or persons, giving the feedback and the text matters. If it’s a designated feedback talk or a casual conversation.
Yet another aspect of this is on the basis of what feedback is given:
H. A completed full draft of the play.
I. Parts of the play (which might not be written in full yet).
J. The playwright’s presentation of the play, or their idea for the play.
This is important too. Important because it represents different phases of the writing process.
So, this are my thoughts at the moment. I’ll keep thinking about them. At times like these I notice that I find it easier to think if there’s some sort of framework for me to think in, or through.
If there is already somebody else out there that have thoughts about these things and written a brilliant article, or dissertation or book – please tell me! I want to read them!
Hanna is a playwright, translator and dramaturg living and working in Swedish in Finland. Current projects include an opera libretto based on a children's book, a series for radio and a stage play.
Hanna has two websites:http://hannaheartfelt.blogspot.fi/
Hanna is a playwright, translator and dramaturg living and working in Swedish in Finland. Current projects include an opera libretto based on a children's book, a series for radio and a stage play.
Hanna has two websites:
I write to run away from myself. Perhaps some of you do as well. A flag-waving member of the “Writers’ Escape Club,” I’ve pledged life-long allegiance to characters and events far away from my own life and time.
In the saddle of doppelgangers (riding through my fourteen plays), I’m a shrewd prospector bilking miners in the California Gold Rush (In Gold We Trust); a star-struck ‘linthead’ (cotton mill worker) dreaming of escape while caught in a tragic 1929 labor uprising (Finding Clara); a stoic German immigrant challenging 1800s sexist mores to become a lighthouse keeper (Women of the Light); and a deeply religious American female soldier returning home from the Iraq War, making unfathomable choices after losing faith and family (Across the Holy Tell).
It’s a well-worn trope that writers put themselves into their work. I’ve forcibly locked the door behind me when I write, taking refuge in a towering paper parapet to map the echoes of distant stories below.
It’s why I’ve never managed to keep a diary (Lord knows I’ve tried). Cowering in my office corner is a carton stuffed with notebooks – a few feverish paragraphs in each book, penned in valiant, yet aborted attempts. Late at night, the orphaned pages taunt: “Coward, coward!” disgusted by my failure to soldier on.
After my mother died, something shifted inside me. I had, till then, excused my avoidance out of a desire to shield her from hurt. But this false narrative has been a frail veil hiding my inability to process the painful dynamics of my family life – and the fear (irrational or not) that excavation of this embittered battlefield would catapult me into lifelong depression.
It would be comforting to believe that bravery has propelled me to undertake, finally, this herculean task. But the truth can more honestly be found gasping for air in a river of rage flooding the banks of my pen.
The past year I’ve been digging channels inside my play’s cave. Exploratory tools include yellowing family photographs, food-stained letters, saved emails, frayed birthday cards, crumbling birth certificates and stained medical records. This Pompeian avalanche has left me suffocated and overwhelmed. Trying to forge a path through the chaos, I rolled out a 25-foot roll of brown paper to chart my family’s timeline, taping my relics to the mud-colored papyrus in search of order and clarity.
It didn’t help.
Sardonically, my Muse chose to arrive not via trumpeted fanfare or a bright beam of light. Rather, she blew in on a cold, rainy night as I sat in a theatre watching a cloying adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women. My most beloved book as a child - perhaps Little Women was yours too? - what young girl has not been breast fed on Alcott’s fantasy of a loving mother and four sisters triumphantly surviving hardships and even death? And what girl wanting to become a writer has not imagined she is Josephine March?
Anger can be liberating. I vividly remember the day – I was fifteen – when we parted ways. Surviving a particularly harrowing family wrestling match, I sought safety in my room – only to be confronted by Louisa’s tale mocking me. “Fucking, fucking lies!” I screamed at the cruel pages. It would be forty plus years before I would seek solace again in her story.
Leaving the theatre that evening after seeing Little Women, a tsunami of emotions coursed through my veins. When the storm subsided, floating to the surface were bits and pieces of my new play, and by the time I returned home, I knew I would write a radical retelling of Little Women, using the Alcott book as a frame to tell the very real, turbulent story of my tribe of women - my mother and sisters.
The irony – that to write about my life, I had to return, at least on some level, to fiction as a source of inspiration – I’ve found perversely gratifying, given my year-long struggle battling ghosts in the Trenches of Truth.
Also ironic - my discovery that Louisa May Alcott had no interest initially in writing Little Women and penned the books primarily for the cash. Her writing passions – which were varied and radical for her time – lay elsewhere.
If all writers are like Icarus, fated to fly into the light,then it has always been destined that a young girl, seeking refuge from her family’s raging storm, would grow up to one day write a play about her life.
So. Yes. I am Jo in my new play. And my play is called Little .
Epilogue: June's new drama recently received an unstaged reading and she has been awarded two artist residencies in the fall to continue her journey writing about her life. An apparition of Louisa May Alcott plays a prominent role in June's new work :) .
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
#juneguralnick #guralnick #icwp #womenplaywrights #womeninTheatre #theater #womeninTheater
I will use the Illuminated Dresses project that I produced as an example of creative collaboration, and will draw on some other experiences I've had along the way, to illustrate why I consider collaborating a radical act.
I've been involved in creative collaborations for decades. These include modern dance and poetry, fiber arts and poetry, co-designing and facilitating writing workshops, co-managing a division of a university press, directing and producing plays, and being a member of writing groups. I've also served on committees and boards of directors, which can be opportunities for collaboration, if the desire and willingness are there. Most of these collaborations I consider successes, despite the inevitable human failings and I have learned from every one.
My current collaborative project and the biggest production I have undertaken is Illuminated Dresses, which is written, directed, produced, and acted by women. There are fourteen short monologues on the theme of a transformation while putting on a dress or other garment, and collectively they explore life, clothing, and identity. It opens Oct. 25, 2019, in Raleigh, N.C. https://m.facebook.com/Illuminated-Dresses-294778108065059
I call creative collaboration a radical act because when we collaborate with open minds, we are upsetting the patriarchal paradigm of hierarchical decision making, the boss-man and the workers. My most successful collaborations have been with women. I have found women more willing to take personal/emotional risks, listen closely to others, question our own egos and motives, and not insist on our p.o.v. above all others.
Certainly women can fall into the same ego traps as men. We still don't have an abundance of models for positive female leadership. We might bend over backwards to accommodate, be more conflict-averse, tone-check or moderate our comments, or, conversely, employ the tactics of what the poet Adrienne Rich called “power over” to prove our place at the table. When we collaborate, we are going against the culturally entrenched model, where the one with the most power or who talks the most or loudest directs the actions of others. Most women are familiar with the labels: assertive, you are a bitch; insistent, you are shrill; contemplative, you can be walked over.
The patriarchal structure also tends to favor extroverts. The faster-paced our world, the more expedient the work. No time to ponder, get to it. Collaboration is the opposite of that. It often is more like slow cooking than stir fry, but that does not mean that we are endlessly processing, wheel-spinning—the stereotype used to denigrate a more thoughtful approach. Too much wheel-spinning usually is due to losing sight of the vision, poor communication, difficult personalities, or lack of stepping up. Collaboration may take more time but the end result is more fulfilling because those involved feel listened to, respected, and are an integral part of the overall vision, rather than being “assigned” a task or staying silent.
Major ingredients in a successful collaboration are 1) a clear and compelling vision, 2) good communication, 3) personal integrity in word and deed, and creating a safe space.
1. Vision. The project has a clear vision/mission. Are you all creating a vision together or does one person have a vision who is enlisting help in shaping it and making it a reality? Everyone involved should buy into that vision, and collectively stay focused as it lives and breathes and morphs with one another’s input.
2. Clear and prompt communication. Know who is in charge of what. Assume best intentions rather than ill intent. Set aside your ego. Say what you think but don't be entrenched; allow yourself to be challenged, surprised. Listen closely. Respect and give space for personalities—an introvert and an extrovert process differently at a different rate. Follow through on what you agreed to do, and communicate accordingly. Have good boundaries. Be flexible—shit happens. Someone's family member will get ill or die, someone will go through a divorce, etc., but don’t go silent.
3. Personal integrity. These qualities work well: Generosity. Curiosity rather than reaction. Mindfulness. Do not coerce, even if you really want something done a certain way. Breathe, take five. Forgiveness. If someone is not holding up her commitment, find out why and see if she wants or needs to continue to be part of the project. Curb the storytelling in a work session, save it for drinks afterward.
This is a good time to talk about council, as described in The Way of Council by Jack Zimmerman and Gigi Coyle. It is an ancient process that allows everyone to have a voice and be listened to, which encourages creative thinking and problem solving. In the council process, the opportunity to speak is given one at a time to all. Members speak only when it is their turn and are encouraged to listen intently without comment while others are speaking. Any member can keep silent or pass when their turn comes. A facilitator is charged with maintaining the boundaries of the circle to protect the process.
Council uses four simple intentions:
1. Speak from the heart, not only with your head. Use your feelings as honestly as you can trust in the moment.
2. Listen from the heart, with an open mind, without judgment.
3. When it is your turn, speak spontaneously rather than planning ahead what you are going to say. This allows you to truly listen to others, not be distracted by your own thoughts.
4. Be lean of speech. Use only the words necessary to get your point across.
It sounds simple, but how often are council guidelines used, even in a modified way? More often we talk impatiently, strive to get our opinion across (sometimes insistently), talk over one another—or, if we are introverts, stay silent, waiting for an opening. Although council has been around for centuries, it is still radical in that it subverts the dominant paradigm.
Just as a successful play is 95% good casting, a successful collaboration is 95% good partners. You want people who want to be there and who will do what is agreed upon. Some personalities are exciting and creative but hard to work with in a sustained way. Know your own temperament. Ask people you trust for recommendations. It is hard enough to get a project off the ground with good intentions and good chemistry; you do not need any toxic personalities or flakes that can derail the work.
This is not to say throw away the organizational chart, that there is no hierarchy. One of the good things about producing a play is having clear roles that have been understood historically. Playwright, producer, director, stage manager, lighting designer, actors, publicist. Even so, personality issues can blur or trammel boundaries and make the project a real pain (e.g., a playwright interfering with a director, an actor who is chronically late, a publicist who does not communicate in a timely way). Each of these roles is a piece of the whole and moves the project forward. Good collaboration is a kind of dance—know who is leading whom and when, know whether it is a pas de deux, a square dance, or an improvisational free-form movement.
So, now, to the Illuminated Dresses. I’ve long been disturbed by the lack of productions by women in the theater. Only about 30% of productions in the US and the UK are by women. Besides writing plays that are predominately women-centered and working with other women playwrights, I wanted to do my small part in remedying this. When the Women’s Theatre Festival (WTF) came into being a few years ago, I wanted to be part of it. I contributed some plays to their summer festivals. Around that same time I saw a graphic by Tim Walker of dresses hanging in a tree, and I thought immediately that it would be a terrific theater set. It had magic in it. Yet I couldn’t decide what exactly the play would be. Three playwright friends and I tried to cowrite a play that sprang from this image but we couldn’t make it work.
After spinning out various scenarios, I decided that rather than writing a full-length play, I would see if other women playwrights were interested in doing short pieces on a dress-related theme. Because I see theater as an opportunity for community building and collaboration, and because I wanted diverse voices represented, I asked playwrights I know and also put out a call for monologues on social media to reach others: It read: “We are seeking monologues about a transformation while putting on (or taking off) a dress. (“Dress” can be a uniform, costume, smock, etc.) This experience could be connected to a ritual, magic, an awakening, an everyday epiphany. A few questions to consider: Why this dress? Why now? What does the person want to do in or to the dress? Are there regrets? Expectations? What doors might open or close?”
But before doing the call, I needed to have a goal as to what would happen with the pieces—otherwise, why would anyone submit to me? I contacted the Women's Theatre Festival to see about doing a staged reading as part of the summer festival, and they were enthusiastic. I sent out the call, mostly through social media, seeking out groups such as LGBTQ Writers, the National Association of Black Storytellers, writers with disabilities, veterans, writers meet-ups, etc. (I didn’t know about ICWP then, regrettably!) I received over seventy submissions, and I was pleased with the variety of voices and situations. I had the challenging task of choosing fourteen.
We hear from an executive constrained in a suit, a black woman surrounded by white dresses, a Girl Scout whose family couldn't afford the uniform, a trans woman recalling a pivotal moment in her youth, a mother persuading her daughter to wear a sacred garment, a waitress instructing a newbie, and many more. The characters range in class, age, ethnicity, and gender identity, and the pieces explore various moods and experiences.
Next was to find a director for the staged reading. My first choice was Lori Mahl. I'd been in a group with her and admired her insights and fearlessness as an actor and director. We talked and emailed back and forth to get clear on our expectations of one another. Not just our producer/director roles, but the role of the playwrights, many of whom would attend the reading.
Because the main purpose of doing these monologues for the first time was to benefit the playwrights, Lori had the idea of doing the monologues in a process-oriented way rather than a straight-ahead staged reading. That is, the first several monologues would be read as if she were directing a first rehearsal. That meant stopping the actress at times, inquiring as to what was happening in the moment, what her motivation was, etc. (The rest of the monologues were read as a staged reading.) In rehearsal the actresses all had agreed enthusiastically to this approach, which meant they would be extremely vulnerable. The audience were to be silent observers, flies on the wall. It was a charged, honest presentation, which the audience felt part of, due to its intimacy. It felt like we all were holding sacred space. The playwrights saw new things in their scripts or noted where they’d like to make changes based on the acting and directing.
So regarding my list of what makes a successful collaboration, this hit all the notes.
We are now in full production mode—we open October 25, 2019—with even more collaboration needed among members of the creative team. Again, everyone understanding the vision and adding her own expertise to it and communicating effectively is crucial to the play’s success. I recognized that as producer I would need excellent partners, so in addition to the creative team, I reached out to OdysseyStage to help with marketing, fundraising, and other related tasks.
Collaboration, with all its challenges, can be rewarding and even illuminating. I do believe to collaborate is to work together in a radical way to create something new, and that it is greater than the sum of its parts. Diverse voices, new ideas, challenging interactions, a project bigger than one’s own perspective, a rich and multi-layered vision, a way to be with others in a shared purpose. It is a useful practice to challenge our own assumptions and open ourselves to other ideas of race, gender, age, class, not just for artistic projects, but in our everyday exchanges, enriching our work, family, and play lives.
Illuminated Dresses runs from Oct. 25 through Nov. 3, 2019, at Burning Coal Theater in Raleigh, NC. See https://m.facebook.com/Illuminated-Dresses-294778108065059 for more information.
Poet and playwright Debra Kaufman has written over three dozen short and four full-length plays. She produced her play Harbor Hope in 2015 and is producing Illuminated Dresses, a collaborative monologues project, in the fall of 2019. The author of three full-length poetry collections and three chapbooks, she received a North Carolina Arts Council playwriting scholarship and two grants from the Central Piedmont Regional Artists Hub Program. www.debrakaufman.info
We could have saved sixpence. We have saved fivepence. (Pause) But at what cost?
—Samuel Beckett, All That Fall
What happens when you lay your playwriting out on the bed, hanger upon hanger, sweater upon mismatched sock of complete play drafts, half-written monologs, title ideas, snatches of dialog? What happens if you hold and thank each item, let go of the ones that don’t bring you joy, and store the rest in a way that truly serves you going forward?
To tidy a home, Marie Kondo works a category at a time: clothing, books, etc. So if you’re up for this adventure, start by identifying the big categories that make up your playwriting. For me, it’s Digital and Paper.
To do this, I opened my local drive and my Dropbox folder to display as much of my writing as I could on my big iMac screen. What a mess—a motley assortment inconsistently named files, some placed in folders, others not. When I’m actually looking for a file, I usually search on a text string because browsing through all these windows succeeds only in making me feel like a loser for having so many versions of so many files.
A challenging thing about digital writing is that often there isn’t one final, unchangeable version of a piece. Even if a play has been produced, you might continue to tinker with it, thereby creating new versions of the file. And even if you have a “perfect” draft, what about all the previous ones? Part of me wants to delete them, so that I have just one file per play or story. If some scene or line got cut along the way, I probably don’t need it, right?
But then I remember my first playwriting teacher, the late Fred Gaines, saying that at a certain point you should go back to the first draft of a piece, to reengage with your original idea, before you “perfected” it. That’s one of the most useful pieces of writing advice I’ve ever heard. As you change and grow as a writer, you might come back to an early draft and see it differently, a process that could take you in a different, more exciting direction.
Then again, you don’t need to keep every single version. Sometimes that feels too heavy. Argh, how to decide? Luckily, we have a plan that supports making the keep-or-toss decision quickly and decisively.
This is one main folder that will hold your biggest category of playwriting. I’ve created a folder called Writing. I created it in my main Dropbox folder so it’s accessible from everywhere. I also created separate main folders for Teaching and Plays from Others, because those are important aspects of playwriting, but I don’t want to confuse them with my writing, which deserves its own beautiful cabinet.
We’ll build shelves for this cabinet in a minute. First, we need to make it easy to toss what we don’t want.
This is a folder named zzzCompost (the zzz keeps it at the bottom of the folder list). This is where you toss files that don’t bring you joy, but it’s better than your computer’s trash bin.
In a month or a year, you can open zzzCompost and pull something that sparks your interest (watch out for worms), or you can make permanent deletions. For now, it allows you to remove files and folders with abandon. One of the perks of digital writing is that it doesn’t take up much space, so you can afford a nice big zzzCompost bin.
I called this zzUnassigned so it sits just above the Compost bin. This is for ideas and web links and anything else that’s interesting but hasn’t found a home yet. I like the name Unassigned because it makes those ideas feel important. They are wanted and valuable, they just haven’t been given a mission yet.
Each shelf is a subfolder for one type of creative writing. I experimented a lot here. First I tried detailed subfolders like 10-Minute Plays, Full-length Plays, Stories for Performing, Stories for Reading. But this gave me too many shelves. So I ended up with something much simpler: one folder for each medium, like Plays, plus my two bins.
In your mind’s eye. Thank and release the ones that don’t bring you joy. Remember you’re just moving them to the zzzCompost folder, so this doesn’t need to take forever.
From all 57 drafts of your novel to one draft of a one-minute play, each piece gets a folder. Otherwise, files get crumpled in dark corners instead of standing up in neat vertical folds. A folder also gives you a great place to put notes, research, and anything else related to the writing of this piece.
If you’re not already using a consistent file-naming system, now is a great time to start. I’ve started naming my files Title_of_piece.dd.mm.yy—for example, Bolshoi Bathtub.091619. If the piece is a related document, reflect that as well—eg, Bolshoi Bathtub.cut scenes.091619. I’m not going back and renaming everything, but going forward this makes the contents of each folder easier to survey.
If you come across a file that’s not truly part of your playwriting process, like a lecture on dialog or a quote you love, plop it into a separate main folder and deal with it later. Maybe set a different date for Marie Kondo-ing your teaching.
Once you tidy your digital writing, it’s time to move to the physical stuff. For me that’s an overwhelming number of binders, loose papers, dozens of diaries, countless blank books friends have given me “to write in” that are too pretty to actually write in, loose notes, playbills, newspaper clippings, and more. Most of it is crammed into a grim oak bookcase in my office, jammed into a filing cabinet, and stacked at the back of my desk.
Or, in my case, on the floor. At first, I resisted this step, because a few years ago I created a binder for every full-length play I wrote, every class I taught, and every category of shorter writing. Old drafts, notes, contact sheets, programs, feedback, everything was filed into these binders. I spent countless hours making tabs for different kinds of writing exercises. I bought document sleeves to put programs and cast notes in. I labelled each binder on the spine.
I was really proud of these binders. I didn’t want them on my floor. I wanted to cheat this step and extract one item at a time because my floor is not that big and I need it for yoga. But as soon as I dropped the first notebook, I realized two things:
But I’d put so much work into hole-punching and Sharpie-ing. Was it all for nothing? And what about all the journals and notes that have no digital equivalent?
For advice, I turned to writer and producer Jill Howe, who has been posting beautiful photos on Facebook of her tidying process all year. Over corncakes, Jill confided, “Before, with storytelling I did everything on paper. And I would keep every draft, so I’d have like 20 drafts of a story. I mean, it was kind of fun in the beginning, like, ‘Look at all the work I’m doing!’ But if you’ve told a story now and then you tell it again in two months, you look back and go, ‘I ended the story like that? What the eff was I thinking?’ So now, when I do a piece for a show, I have the final draft, and that’s really the only paper I keep. I don’t need the 20 drafts that got me to that point.”
Jill admitted that there’s the stuff that’s easy to toss, the stuff that’s easy to keep—and then there’s everything in between. Luckily, she also had a solution for this, the largest category in most of our lives.
Jill uses the notes-app-on-steroids Evernote and Evernote’s free Scannable app to digitize and organize all the in-between stuff. “The app takes a picture, immediately crops it to the frame, and turns it into a high-quality image,” she explained. “You can make folders in your Evernote for all the different categories, and scan directly to those.”
If you already use Dropbox, like I do, it includes a built-in scanning feature that I’d never noticed until Jill showed it to me. Just click that plus sign icon on the phone app and start scanning.
Jill also has a WiFi scanner that she keeps on her desk, along with a tray for day-to-day stuff like bills and receipts. “When the pile gets deep, I pull out the scanner,” she said. She recommends the Doxie, which runs about $200, handles multi-page documents pretty well and promises to sync easily with all major cloud services including Evernote and Dropbox.
Once you’re set up with a scanner or two, you’re ready to:
About that whole written-words-are-sacred thing I was feeling? Jill’s been there, too. “I’ve been carrying around journals since I was in college,” she told me, “you know, repressive, horrible poetry. And you know, that whole corny thing about, does it spark joy? It just reminded me of things I didn’t want to remember. So I asked a friend, ‘hey, can we build a fire in your backyard?’”
So instead of tossing my outgrown scribblings in the recycle bin, I’m collecting them for a bonfire, first day it’s warm enough to sit outside around the fire pit and toast some marshmallows.
Jill advises taking before and after pictures to remind you of why you’re doing this, and to help fine-tune your work. “There’s something about taking pictures,” she said. “I would declutter a space, take a picture of it, and—I couldn’t see this in real life, but when I’d look at the picture I’d say, ‘that’s still too much.’ And I’d go back and get rid of more.”
Warning that if you do pile everything on the floor, you may kick yourself or curse this post. Going through everything will probably take longer than you planned and the mess may haunt you. But that’s exactly why the pile is brilliant. You’ll be extra-motivated to move quickly so you can get what you want: a beautiful, uncluttered space to write in, and a digitized library of documents, journal entries, and notes you can access from anywhere without ever having to dust.
MT’s plays have been produced by Piven Theatre, The Side Project, Chicago Dramatists, The Fine Print Theatre, Working Women's History Project, and elsewhere. She has received awards from the Illinois Arts Council and Heartland Theatre, and residencies at The Ragdale Foundation, Playa, and Hawthornden Castle. MT has taught playwriting and story development at Carthage College, The Second City Training Center, and in private workshops. Her dramatic writing has been published by Applause Books, Hippocampus Magazine, Crawdad Literary Journal, and Original Works. She lives in Chicago, and is represented by the Robert A. Freedman Dramatic Agency. https://mtcozzola.com/
I’m a playwright and Artistic Director of a small theater company, and I've also been reading for theaters, workshops, and grants opportunities etc. for the past few years. There’s some overall notes I’ve compiled so I wanted to pass on some observations and even some advice.
Roberta D'Alois is a playwright, performer and director. All the above images come from her website: http://www.robertadalois.com/
My bio does not tell the story. And I think how many of us have a disconnect between reading our own bio and our writer’s life lived between the dots.
“You have serendipity on your side,” my mentor said to me. He is Grayson Hirst in his 80’s, Tenor opera singer from the Metropolitan opera (who sang with Beverly Sills). I told him how I met Gary Garrison, Dramatists Guild of America, on a park bench in front of the Ft. Wayne, Indiana public library; then Maestro Crafton Beck in a park in my hometown in Ohio who told me I was writing symphonies.
It is Grayson who told me a few months ago to form my own 501(c)(3) to support the symphony orchestra I am creating to perform A YAQUI SPRING. “Do what I did. Form your own non-profit and I will help you.” And he has!
Mentorship is a serious thing in the arts taken from old European tradition. I am just now putting these bio dots together. Wealthier families have taken advantage of this system for generations but my own Grandfather was born in a log cabin in NW Ohio. It takes years sometimes to connect dots and to take giant leaps.
How did I transform from writing full-length plays into writing musicals and opera? In 2010 Brad Lyons, Artistic Director, of Timber Lake Playhouse (west of Chicago) gave me some awards and then the Lee Blessing Award and asked me to turn my full-length play about the Yaqui tribe in Tucson into a musical, A YAQUI SPRING. The next year I returned and gave a small workshop with my new libretto and about 6 songs. This began this entire entry into the world of the musical theatre and opera.
Last summer I wrote many songs from May 15 to about July 1, forgetting to eat and sleep. Now I have over 30 works with lyrics and orchestrations. BUT during that time I lost some good high school friends and my boyfriend of 12 years in the process. He finally “lost it” when once again I took off to Manhattan; this time Friday Night FOOTLIGHTS at the Dramatists Guild on Broadway. No, I’m not ready to settle down! I have a brain change like a propulsion lab formed inside my brain and I am compelled by inner forces to hear new sound and to write down harmonies from my inner spaces.
Well, now I am alone. But more “myself” than I have ever been! I think most of you understand about this. Sometimes it takes a long time to connect the dots. I am writing this to you on the 50th Anniversary of “Man Landing on the Moon.” Neil Armstrong was born and raised in Waupauk, Ohio, population 12,000 about 30 miles from my hometown, population 10,333 where I am blogging to you right now. Around me is perfectly flat black soil farm country where it takes years to take giant leaps.
I say take your own “one small step for a woman” and see what happens. Take little steps seen and unseen, but keep on taking them. We are applauding you on this home planet in our world of International Center of Woman Playwrights!
Linda Evans is a US PLAYWRIGHT living and writing in NY, NY; Ohio; and Tucson, AZ: director, MFA in Filmmaking.
A YAQUI SPRING Musical Opera: https://www.lindaevans.org/
America Regional Touring ART, non-profit, 501(c)(3)
How did it feel to be awarded as a finalist in the 2019 O'Neill conference for CRAZY BETTY? Was this the first time you had submitted to the O'Neill conference?
I was stunned when I got the email that I was an O’Neill semi-finalist and then got the next email that I was a finalist (67 out of more than 1400 submissions).
It was absolutely thrilling to be acknowledged by the O’Neill, which is such a prestigious and competitive playwriting conference. It was my first submission to them. I had had a New York reading of CRAZY BETTY, which went very well, and afterwards a playwright friend urged me to submit it to the O’Neill, which had never occurred to me.
CRAZY BETTY was only my second full-length play after years of writing and performing monologues and prose. It seemed a bit audacious, but I am obviously glad I did it.
CRAZY BETTY has been a semifinalist in Bay Area Playwrights Festival, Bechdel Test Festival, and Austin Film and Writers Conference. Would you submit to them again? Any feedback on these festival awards or conferences?
I had submitted before to the Bay Area Playwrights Festival and CRAZY BETTY was my second time as a semi-finalist. Having worked in the Bay Area for a long time, I was very familiar with the BAPF and its people, and the way they create a supportive “family” for their playwrights.
It’s a very creative, nurturing environment. I will continue to submit my work to them. The Austin Conference and Bechdel Test were very nice validations of my work, and I will submit my work to them again.
What is next for CRAZY BETTY in its development?
CRAZY BETTY is out there in the world now, being read by numerous artistic directors, directors and other theater people. Obviously, I hope to see Betty and her friends on the stage soon.
Are you currently working on any other submissions, writing, or productions at this time?
Although writing is my passion, submitting my work is an essential part of the process as a playwright. So I make time for both. Right now I am preparing to go back to NYC because my short play “Mama Won’t Stay Dead” is being presented in the 44th Annual Samuel French Off Off Broadway Short Play Festival in August -- another wonderful opportunity and honor.
I am working on revising a new play, “Speak Ill of the Dead” and have submitted the work to various play development opportunities (it was selected as a finalist for Berkeley Rep’s The Ground Floor development program).
I also have begun a new work about five women caregivers gone bad – it’s irreverent, profane, darkly humorous and poignant (I hope). I think I am in the throes of my golden age of creativity and trying to take it in and savor it.
My work is on the NPX and I also have a website: charlottehigginsplaywright.com.
#charlottehiggins #icwp #newplayexchange #newworks #crazybetty #oneill #jessiesalsbury #womenplaywrights #womenInTheatre #theatre
To see the first part of this series, please visit https://womenplaywrights.org/news/7323525
For the 2018 Henley Rose Playwright Competition for women, Elana Gartner's play, Before Lesbians, won the second place award. The top three winners in the competition are performed in a staged reading in Knoxville, Tennessee (USA). Elana's play was performed this summer, so we followed up with her to get her thoughts.
Did you find the experience worth the expense?
As it so happens, I was down in Louisville for my low-residency MFA program at Spalding University just before the reading so it made it much easier to get to. The staff at Henley Rose were very gracious and shuttled me back and forth to the airport and showed me and my parents around Knoxville. We had a tight window of time to experience Knoxville but Kerri made sure that we got to walk around and learn things, in addition to having the reading. As I had never been to Knoxville before, I truly appreciated the extra effort she put in to make me feel welcome and to make the experience positive.
Are you going to do any rewrites of the play based on what you saw?
There are a few nitpicky things that I noticed when we were rehearsing that I will probably fix but no big overarching changes, no.
Would you submit and travel to see it again?
Absolutely! I had a great time meeting Jocelyn Meinhardt (1st place winner) as well as the board members, Damon Boggess and Sara Venable, founding director Kerri Koczen and artistic director, Jessie Gulley.
Was it well organized and well performed as an organization?
The actors performed the piece with great emotion and brought the characters to life in ways that really impacted the audience. I was glad that I was able to sit in on a rehearsal before the performance and invited by the director to voice any concerns or notes.
Did you learn anything new about yourself, your work, or you as an author?
I was curious to see how this particular script would play in Knoxville, given some of its subject matters, dealing with the Civil War as well as lesbian relationships. However, with a title like Before Lesbians, it also seemed unlikely to have agitators attend and we didn't. I have realized that, as my work evolves, I have to start characterizing it a little differently when I am speaking about it. I used to characterize it as simply drama dealing with inner conflict but I have a lot of pieces now that are breaking that mold and playing with time and fantasy.
Do you have any words of wisdom for anyone who may submit to this opportunity?
Submit your best work. Move people. Make sure that you have strong roles for women.
Anything new you've won or had performed since the last time we spoke?
Before Lesbians was a semi-finalist for the 2019 Wordsmyth Theater Company's Reading Series.
For more information on the competition, and to keep an eye on future opportunities, you may sign up for their mailing list at: http://yellowroseproductions.org/henleyrose/
To leave a comment you must be logged in as a member.To comment click the blue button at the top of a post.
501- c - 3 Non Profit Organization incorporated in the State of Ohio, USA
For general questions contact: Margaret McSeveney firstname.lastname@example.org
Board of Directors contact:Pat Morin, President email@example.com