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.

What I'm Reading: Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby and some August Wilson

After the dense reading of Pittsburgh in Stages by Lynn Conner, I picked up Nick Hornby’s Juliet, Naked.  A fun, witty story well-told by one of my favorite writers (author of About a Boy and High Fidelity) was well needed.  

This is the kind of book you want to bring with you on vacation so you can spend an hour or two basking in the sun of Mexico and be entertained.  The last book of his I read, A Long Way Down, was over four years ago, and while I enjoyed that book, I think this was was more my speed.  

The main storyline is about a reclusive American singer-songwriter named Tucker who created one of the greatest breakup albums of all time (or at least comparable to Tangled Up in Blue).  After a believed epiphany in a Minneapolis bathroom, he disappeared for 29 years.  There is much heated internet discussion on his whereabouts, especially by one of the other main characters who lives in a northern town in the U.K. with his girlfriend of 15 years.  He gives a review of a new album, a release of raw acoustic versions of Tucker's songs, which causes his girlfriend to openly disagree with him and she ends up in contact with the real Tucker.

What I love about Hornby's characters, other than the sense of humor that is woven throughout all his scenarios and the funny dialogue, is that his characters are so human.  They have flaws.  And not just pick-your-nose flaws.  They're just trying to get by and finding hope in even the smallest things of life.  Like us.  Even the singer-songwriter who is seen as a music "god" by his fans is really just an ordinary dad who is getting old and constantly fails at relationships.  

Next up on my reading list are some more August Wilson plays.  I just finished reading Seven Guitars again (love that play) and am now going to read Radio Golf, King Hedley II and Jitney.  I’m hoping to just work my way through the cycle.  These plays inform each other in such wonderful ways (and now I get their Pittsburgh references since all but one are set in the Hill District).

Tips for the auditioning actors

Are you wondering how playwrights are trying to help actors be brilliant in their texts?  

We are, you know.  We do love actors and want them to rock with our words.  And good playwrights know how to write for actors.  But you have to know where to look for these hints.  That's why I'm excited about doing a guest blog over at Detta's Audition Site.

So what are you waiting for?  Click the link below and check it out.

5 Tips for the Auditioning Actor (from a playwright)

I speak yinz now (well, not really...)

Just in case you missed the mention of it in my last post, I’m now blogging about my new adventures in the steel city (aka Pittsburgh).

Thing is, it's not really a “steel city” anymore.  In fact, it’s one of the most livable cities in the U.S., according to Forbes magazine.

Pittsburgh is…well, read the blog and find out.

What I'm reading: Out of this Furnace & Pittsburgh in Stages

This past couple of weeks has been like “History Month” for me as far as reading goes. 

As some of you might already know, I moved to Pittsburgh from Seattle just over a month ago.  While it was sad to say goodbye to some of the amazing and talented people we met in the pacific northwest, it is nice to be back on the east coast, and a little bit closer to family.

(I've never lived in Pittsburgh before, or any place like it so now I'm going to chronicle that newcomer experience in a new blog called “I Speak Yinz Now”.  Check it out).

Having no knowledge or lay of the land is quite disorienting and so I’ve started reading some books that might help me get my bearing.  

First up, I read Thomas Bell’s book Out of this Furnace, which chronicles three different generations of immigrants who come to Braddock and end up working in the steel mills.  (Braddock is only a couple of miles from Pittsburgh proper and literally only a few miles from where I'm living now). Although the prose isn’t poetic and at times the reading can be dry and slow-going, this book does give you a feel for what it was like to come to this area a hundred years ago and try to survive.

What's also interesting is that some of the characters live in Homestead, just across the river, where there used to be a ton of steel mills.  Now there is the Waterfront, home to a huge shopping center which has all your standard stores like the Gap, Target, etc.  Some of the towering smoke stacks are still there, casting their shadows over the parking lots.

By the way, Braddock is now the focus of some infamous, and inspiring Levi’s commercials—check it out.

The other educational and helpful book I’ve read lately is Pittsburgh in Stages by Lynn Conner.  This takes the past hundred years and looks at theater and performances from the early days of Fort Pitt, to the burlesque shows of the 1920s on up to the more legit stages like the birth of the Pittsburgh Playhouse and the Pittsburgh Public Theater.  

Although at some points it definitely reads like a history book, it's chock full of great stories about theatre luminaries like Eleanora Duse and Lilly Langtry, as well as focusing on some of the well-known Pittsburghers, like renowned playwright August Wilson.

It’s essential reading for anyone wanting to know the theatrical context of this region.  

Writing the solo show, pt.5: Live the story

One of my pet peeves with monodramas is when the performer tells me a story in the past tense. 

If I’m sitting in the audience in any play and I hear an actor say “I remember when…” it makes me cringe. 

We must not forget one of the qualities which makes theatre unique:

Theatre is present tense.

We don’t want you to “tell a story”. 

We want to see you live through a story in front of our eyes.

Oedipus Rex is not about what happened (even if it is set in Greek times).  As the audience, we watch the inevitable doom happen to Oedipus before our eyes.  We witness it.  It is in the witnessing of the events that we gain catharsis, or knowledge, or just sheer pleasure (if watching a guy gauge his eyes out is your kind of thing...I'm not judging.).

However, having said that, you are likely to write part of your solo show in the past tense, especially as you initially write things down.  That’s okay.  Most of the stuff I’ve been writing has been a lot of memories and stories in the past tense.  There are ways to dramatize it, put it in the present moment.  After I get all of the raw material down, then I’ll start to work on that.

Ultimately you don't want to create a piece of literature.  You want a performance.  You can only do one  thing a time, though.  First, write some text, then build a performance out of that.  

Live the story, don't tell the story.  

Writing the solo show, pt. 4: Finding your metaphor

I have this thing when I write.  I also use it when I direct a show, as well.  I try to find the metaphor.  This is something I picked up from reading that wonderful directing book by William Ball, I admit it.

So I'm developing my metaphor for my solo show and all I can do is think about this story.  Ideally, a metaphor should be one sentence (ie American Buffalo is boys playing king of the hill), so bear with me, as this story is a little long:

I’m eleven years old and home alone.  We live in two-story house in Reno, Nevada.  I have recently seen the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark at the movie theater, probably for the tenth time.  

Inspired and wanting to be Indiana Jones, I run around the house with a short rope, pretending it’s a whip and I use it to ward off the Nazis. 

The house we live in has a great big foyer and the staircase on the first floor juts out a bit as the stairs run up alongside a landing with a railing on the second floor.  I decide its time to use the whip to swing across a great chasm of death, as Indy does in the movie.  I tie the rope to the upstairs railing.  My thought is to swing from the steps on the stairwell, my body flying out above the foyer, across the chasm, landing safely on top of the railing on the first level where the staircase juts out.  

I hear the trumpets of the Raiders theme in my head and I swing.  I soar through the air, hands holding tight to the rope, landing easily on the railing, carefully balancing.  I swing back again and smirk to myself, thinking, “I am Indiana Jones!”. 

So I do it again. 

Only this time, the rope doesn’t hold.

My body is suddenly adrift, my mind unsure of what is actually happening, and I fall backwards, crashing with a thud on the front hallway tile.  The wind is knocked out of me so hard I can’t breathe.  I’m lucky I my head isn’t cracked open, but as I wheeze and gasp for air, I think I’m going to die and my mom is going to walk in the front door of our house, see her dead son and wonder what the hell happened. 

Finally, I catch my breath.  I’m able to stand up.  Everything seems fine, nothing broken.  

I look at the rope on the floor which seems like a dead snake.

I realize for the first time, “I am not Indiana Jones”.

The idea is that we all have dreams, childhood dreams perhaps, but then reality brings us back down to earth.  Literally, in my case.

We can’t always do the things we want to do.  We can’t always be the things we want to be.  That’s just life.  It’s a hard lesson to learn.

Don’t get me wrong.  I believe in dreaming big dreams.  I believe in following your goals.  As Randy Pausch said in his last lecture, “brick walls are there to see how badly you want something”.  I do believe that.  But Randy, who wanted to be an astronaut, never got to be an astronaut.  He got close—he rode the “vomit comet” and felt what it was like to be in zero gravity, which was what he really wanted, but he never got to be an astronaut.

What I’m talking about is the difference between perception and reality.  I can't magically become six feet tall.  I can't run a 4 minute mile.  I can’t reverse the clock, pretend like I'm 25 years old.    

I can’t change the weather, only dress for it.

My solo show is about the fantasy of the "Real Man" and the reality of what it means to be a man.  Our perception and reality don't always coincide. 

Here are the major questions behind my metaphor:

What does it mean to be a real man?  When and how do we conceptualize this idea of real men and how does it affect us for the rest of our lives?

Indiana Jones exemplifies manliness.  As a boy I looked up to him because he was intelligent, brave, strong, a good fighter, good with the women, comfortable in a jungle or in the classroom, and fought for what he believed in.  He was one of the good guys.  

And let’s face facts, he looked cool, with that hat and leather jacket.  And the whip.  (and yes, I do have a whip even now…) 

There are many other images and faces of “real men”.  Think about Superman and Clark Kent.  Think about the Dark Knight.  Think about actors like Clint Eastwood, Cary Grant, Gary Cooper, Jack Nicholson, George Clooney, Clive Owen.  We carry around these ideas of what “manhood” looks like…that’s what I want to explore. 

 

More often than not, what we think is manly really turns out to be something else.  We find out we are something else.  

Maybe more than what we thought.