A New Year, a New You?

All my life, I've always wanted to be somebody, but I see now I should have been more specific. -- Jane Wagner

I’m not big on New Year’s resolutions but as I get older (and the ticking clock of life seems to speed faster), I find myself reviewing my goals and expectations at the end of a year and making plans for the next year. 

I have to decide what projects to devote my time and attention.

I have no shortage of ideas (plays, screenplays, etc.) or projects to work on.  It’s a matter of deciding which story beckons and aches to be told immediately.

So what’s on the books for 2011?

I think it’s going to be an exciting year.  In a few months, a production of some of my favorite short plays will be produced in the Rogue Performance Festival in California.  I’m going to participate as a playwright in the Bricolage Urban Scrawl.  I’m also going to (hopefully) finish up some longer projects, like the solo show and the robot play, Approaching Eve.  Maybe I’ll sneak in a full-length screenplay, too…why not?

At the beginning of each year, it feels as if I’m constantly writing and rewriting my “artist statement”—the core of the work that I do, what sets me apart from other theater artists. 

Making art is about making choices and those choices are a result of your goals, dreams and plans. 

So what choices are you making this year? 

Be like Jenna

As 2010 comes to a close, I’d like to thank all of you, my readers.  I'd like to especially thank all of you who have made comments or asked questions on the posts.   

This year I asked you all, what do you want to read about? 

Many of you answered.  

In fact, if it weren't for a reader named Jenna who asked about the process of writing a solo show, I may never have even thought about writing my own solo show and writing about the process here in this blog--so thanks, Jenna! 

For 2011, I will continue the Writing the Solo Show series.  I’d also like to introduce some other exciting new posts about dealing with rejection, following your passions, marketing your writing, writing grants, and I am even tinkering with the idea of a contest!  You’ll have to stay tuned as that develops.  Another new addition will be some interviews and guest blogs from other playwrights, writers and theatre-makers.

Here's what I'd love from you at the end of this year.

Do you have other suggestions or questions you’d like to see answered?

These can be about the writing process, about sending off plays, about proper etiquette in the rehearsal room, what have you...no limits. 

(Of course, math and biology questions are off the table.)  

So how ‘bout it? Got any suggestions for me? 

C'mon, be like Jenna.  Maybe your question will spark a whole new bunch of ideas for others, or a whole new series of posts for 2011.

Writing the Solo Show, Pt. 7: Show it to a friend

I’m getting to that point and maybe you are, too.  You’ve been working in a vacuum for a long time, creating pages and pages of material.  Some of it could be crap but you have a sneaking suspicion that some of it is quite good.  

But how do you know?

It’s probably time to enlist the help of a friend. 

And by friend, I mean someone who can give you honest, critical feedback.  This should be preferably someone with a performance, theatre, or writing background.  Not your mother (she loves everything you do).  Not your spouse (need a more subjective and outsider eye).  Not someone who is in competition with you or finds ways of demoralizing you (who needs that?). 

(If you don’t have any friends, maybe you should hire a dramaturg.)

By the way, bribery in the form of buying a coffee, beer or taking them out to dinner is a perfectly acceptable form of coercion.  People are motivated by rewards and are more likely to help you if they know you are grateful, which you should be.

Make sure when you send off the pages, even if it's just a small amount, that you give the friend some context.  Define your objectives for the piece and say, this is where I’m heading, what you do think?  Even if you don’t know for sure, tell them and see if they agree.  The more specific you are with what you want to know about your work, the more specific your feedback. 

This is the first baby step towards the end goal of communicating something to an audience.  Your aim should always be to remain truthful to your own vision, but remember, you have to communicate that vision to others.  This person can help you do that.

Also, give yourself a date—I will email you pages by (blank) and let’s go out for coffee and talk about it on (blank).  Define the expectations for both of you.  The deadline keeps you motivated and accountable.

Don't just sit around waiting for the feedback.  Get back to work.

Do the hard thing first

I saw this video clip on Faceblah about a week ago, put up by a fellow playwright, and I just can’t get the words out of my head.  

John Patrick Shanley, as most know, is that author of the play Doubt and directed the film version starting Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour-Hoffman.  He has been writing plays for decades, as well as screenplays (including the academy-award winning Moonstruck). 

Although he gives a lot of great advice here, the words that that I can’t get out of my head are: 

“Do the hard thing first”. 

In a time of monster task-lists and to-dos, we frequently do the “fun” and easy things first. 

(Or let’s face it we check our Facebook for inspiring videos or to watch those freaky two people dance with their hands—is that crazy or what?!)

I don’t really enjoy the activity of physical exercise.  I like being in shape and feeling healthy, but I’m not one of those perky people that bounce out of bed into a push-up and crunches.  If I workout first thing in the morning, though, I’m usually in a better mood and have a lot more energy than on the days when I don’t.  If I save my workout for the end of the day, often I blow it off for something more fun and easy.

This is why writing first thing in the morning can be so beneficial.  It’s not my favorite thing to do.  I don’t bounce out of the bed for this either.  It’s not easy and not usually fun, although it is rewarding.  Once it’s done, though, I feel accomplished. 

And once you get into a habit of writing, then you have to stop and ask yourself, “what’s the hardest thing I have to write today?”

Then write that first.  You’ll feel better after. 

But you’ll still have to workout, too.

Where Are You Going?

Yesterday I was having drinks in celebration of my wife who just became a PhD and I got into a conversation with a fellow playwright.  He also happens to be a PhD candidate and is struggling with writing his prospectus—which is like an outline of what he is going to write for his dissertation.  He feels this exercise is a waste of time because the prospectus is due before he takes a six week trip to delve into archives.  Who knows what he may find there that will change the argument of his dissertation.  So why bother?

I told him it’s a helpful exercise even if he decides to change everything.  Which seems like foolish advice, but here’s why I say this.  

I used to hate outlining plays and screenplays.  (He says he never outlines his plays when he writes.)  An outline is like having a map.  You don’t need to use the map or follow your plans.  You can take detours, but its nice to know there was a plan that you could use if you needed to.  

I love getting derailed.  I love when characters surprise me, but I can’t always count on it.  The writing process is particular to each project so you never know how it will unfold.  

Yes, you should dig into the archive (both literal and figurative) and see how that changes your story and changes your plans.  An outline is not meant to be prescriptive.  It’s a tool to help you frame your thoughts and ask yourself:

Where do I want to go?  How will I get there?

If you don’t ask those questions in the beginning, you might just end up lost.

(And not like LOST the TV show.  I mean, lost.)

Seriously, you use Google maps to plan your drives, why not use some of that energy to plan your writing?

How do you fill the void?

“Your art should cost you something; otherwise stay home and do it for your cat.”

Stephen Adly Guirgis, playwright

I know, I know. I have been a very bad blogger.

I blame Facebook.

Okay, perhaps, Facebook can't be the scapegoat here.  Not entirely. Lately, writing has not been fun. Writing a grocery list or an email has been torture. Even writing one-liners for my status posts has been agony. So I’ve taken a break from writing these past few months to deal with some life issues.  And I’m okay with that. Everyone needs to step back sometimes to reevaluate and refresh—more on that later.

What I am not okay with is seeing how this blog has gotten so off-track.

Often, we forget that writing can’t just be a one-way street filled with venting or talking nonsense into the ether. Not good writing, anyway. It needs to connect to the audience. There doesn’t have to be some overt message, but it should have a point. Otherwise, as Guirgis says, do it for your cat.

So. What was my point?

This blog is called “Fighting the Void” because I believe everyone can be artistic. Everyone has talent. Not all of us are destined to become Van Gogh (and who would want to be crazy enough to cut off an ear anyway?). But all of us are capable living creative lives.

The trouble is we struggle with resistance. We hear critical thoughts from our inner editor. We are self-defeating, thinking its all crap. Or we have trouble figuring out what exactly it is we want to say. We are afraid of what people will think of our “true self” or how we really feel about things. So we do nothing, because that’s easier.

Making something, anything, is a struggle. And its not just art I’m talking about. It’s making a spreadsheet that people can read. It’s making a presentation that captivates a meeting room instead of putting people to sleep. It’s living fully and finding joy and passion no matter what we are doing.

In other words, my fellow warrior in art, I have led you astray. I have filled these posts with tangents, tidbits, oddities, and negative rants. Not anymore. This space will be devoted to thoughts on the daily struggle of fighting the void.

But here’s a question for you (if you have actually read this far)—what do you want to see in this blog? What posts have helped you, entertained you, or kept you motivated when all seems bleak? If your answer is nothing, then I would like to know that, too.

This blog is just not for my own wandering musings, but to connect. I don’t want to be in this fight alone.

So, what do ya say? Are you going to join me in the fight?