OK - The script frenzy has begun. First up, a short piece on how a boy, a squirrel, and a smokebomb all colide in a frenzy of dominance smackdown! Yes, Kim is finally trying to get her humor out on the page... We'll see how it works out folks. More to come as soon as I've pulled all of my hair out, I mean written 10 pages or so. Check out google image search! There's even a picture:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/pdxaarons/2060822549/
Also, I'm going to be a good girl and post a picture of my self tonight in my new outfit from the Rockingham mall. (It may be that I don't qualify as an environmentalist when all of my work friends went skiing or did some other sort of naturey thing this weekend while I drove in my (compact) SUV to the mall in New Hampshire just to shop for bling... hmmmm.....
Monday, April 4, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Welcome ScriptFrenzyMonth!
Happy Scriptfrenzy month all! (www.scriptfrenzy.com) write 100 pages in 30 days on your script! My working title? Squirrel Meets Boys and other Woebegon Tales of the Yankee North... My tagline? "Who would set their house on fire to get some peace and quiet?" My goal is to write as many short plays as I can this month. We'll see... It's a complete 180 from where I was at 24 hours ago, thinking of writing on my fiction script, so perhaps that will change as well as I go... So much for all of the millions of inches of spring snow everyone was predicting! We've gotten a dusting.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
New Year AGAIN!
Wow!
I couldn't get into my blog for the longest time. I'd switched in and out of new emails, changed passwords, and forgotten under which email account I originally signed into this blog. Sad, sad.
Now I'm in. I've noted my username/password somewhere I can remember it, and I'm off!
I'll endeavor to catch up on news, arts, friends, family, etc.... over the rest of this week.
I couldn't get into my blog for the longest time. I'd switched in and out of new emails, changed passwords, and forgotten under which email account I originally signed into this blog. Sad, sad.
Now I'm in. I've noted my username/password somewhere I can remember it, and I'm off!
I'll endeavor to catch up on news, arts, friends, family, etc.... over the rest of this week.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Moving ahead Artistically...
I'm reading from my manuscript "Fire on a Circle" this coming Saturday. I've put this manuscript together with the thought of submitting it as a whole to some of the book-printing contests. I think it's almost there, but reading in front of folks always makes a person hear the clunker lines and feel the surety of the good poems.
Feel free to join me! I'll feed you and ask your opinion afteward!
Kim
Feel free to join me! I'll feed you and ask your opinion afteward!
Kim
Monday, January 11, 2010
New Year, New Me
It's been a wild ride through 2009. I am stepping into a new skin, learning to relax into the 'now' and working at refocusing my life on my passions. Terri, Writing, Theater, Friends, Family, Cats.
Henry here is a cat that belongs to my friend Susan Baker. This picture was taking in Texas. I haven't seen her in a dogs age (no offense Henry) and neither have I seen my friends Daniel and Sarah (who are in Austin, TX) or Tim and Jean (who are now in North Carolina).
Time to take a trip I think. Perhaps Terri and I need to do a year of travel in 2010. Perhaps I really need to stick to home and 'don't change anything for 6 months after someone close dies' or perhaps life is to short to follow that advice. We'll see.
How as the new year you ask? Trial-by-fire, hold-on-to-the-seat-of-your-pants wicked. I know this will sound like whining, but here is how the last week or so have gone:
Henry here is a cat that belongs to my friend Susan Baker. This picture was taking in Texas. I haven't seen her in a dogs age (no offense Henry) and neither have I seen my friends Daniel and Sarah (who are in Austin, TX) or Tim and Jean (who are now in North Carolina).
Time to take a trip I think. Perhaps Terri and I need to do a year of travel in 2010. Perhaps I really need to stick to home and 'don't change anything for 6 months after someone close dies' or perhaps life is to short to follow that advice. We'll see.
How as the new year you ask? Trial-by-fire, hold-on-to-the-seat-of-your-pants wicked. I know this will sound like whining, but here is how the last week or so have gone:
- 12/30/09: I got the flu & it lasted three + days
- 01/02/10: some 89 year old guy driving his car on bald summer tires slammed into us on route 15 demolishing my new Honda CRV, which we hadn't even paid our first payment on, bumping and bruising me, my sister, my nephews Ben & Chris and breaking Chris's thumb.
- 01/06/10: Terri went for surgery. They found a cyst on her overy and her CA125 (something that can be used to judge risk of cancer in your blood) was up into the 300s. They had to give her not only an oopherectomy but a full hysterectomy and we'll not know until this Thursday whether there is anything cancerous.
- 01/06/10: I started to feel a cold coming on
- 01/07/10: it really started to hit.
- 01/08/10: still feeling crappy, but got to work OK
- 01/09/10: Rest! Ah... Saturdays are good for something!
- 01/10/10: afternoon: Went to ER with Terri to be sure everything was good as she had a low-grade fever Evening: lounged awake on the couch gasping for breath through my nose as I was too stuffy to lay down and sleep...
- 01/11/09: WOW is it Monday already?
- Well, you get the point...
I just started a class this week which I am loving, though. It's called "living on purpose." it's sponsored by the ToDo Institute. Check it out of interested here: www.todoinstitute.org
I've just calculated my remaining 30,000 days (a rough guess of how long most people in developed countries can expect to live). I've got about 14,055 days to go, folks. Now the interestin part, to list what I would do if I had only 100 days to live and knew it...
- Publish my poetry
- Produce my plays
- Write a musical
- Teach kindness
- Volunteer with a family planning group
- Help a stranger
- Help a friend
- Help an opponent
- Paint a landscape
- create, storyboard, draw and write a comic book
- Spend as much time as possible with friends & family
- Go to Australia & New Zealand
- Return to London
- Walk in the woods
- Lay out in the sun
- Watch the snow fall
- Sip a cup of Tea
- rescue a child
- rescue a puppy
- start a band
- tour that band...
I think I get the idea. I think the list needs refinement. The question is, what's important? What would you do...?
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Sickly Talented 23 year old!
Lately I've been working more on my drawing and painting. Just found this fantastic site for this sickly talented 23 year old. Check it out! http://mbetteker.blogspot.com Perhaps I'll post some of my own work in the next few weeks. Who knows!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Time Flies
I've been moving away from the Internet lately and closer to my writing. Seems unbelievable, but true. Twitter has helped. I could do 148 characters for a while. Still, eventually even that seemed like too much cognitive function. Better to just read twitters by others...
I've also been on this long and dark journey called cancer with my Mom. (Well, she's in the dark water, I'm just on the shore helplessly looking on.) A friend of mine from college wrote diligently every day when his wife was struggling with cancer, to the point where if I hadn't begun to read his blog before she passed, I wouldn't have known when/where her funeral was. He's currently working through a memoir about her/their experience. I can see how his writing kept him sane and strong during the process.
For me, it has been the opposite. Me, the girl who started to read in the womb, the girl who was writing and binding her own books when she was eleven, the girl who said in 5th grade, "I'm going to become a writer when I grow up, Mom."
It's as if words are a molten stone on my tongue. They sear the moment out of my mind if I try to capture them, wipe away the deep swirl of emotion, the fast ticking of the clock inside my mother's body. Sometime during the last four months, my mind drifted from words until - for once in my life - that noisy voice in my head fell silent. Perhaps that is my own form of therapy. I've been saying for years I'm going to learn to meditate, to keep my anxious mind in line. Now it's been forced on me. For several weeks, I've only been able to read poetry, and then only sporadically. Anything longer could not hold my attention. Nature holds my attention now. I sit on my porch at midnight and watch the full moon whisper through the tree branches and past my besom (Witch's broom). I drive to Burlington and watch clouds caress the mountains - clouds shaped like angels and doves sometimes, or dark fingered spectres. The hills are so green it burns my eyes, the sunset so orange I can feel the heat of the sun in my chest.
The worst time I've had was the last three days before we admitted my mother to the Fletcher Allen because I could no longer take care of her. The crushing moment of having to let her care go into someone else's hands, coupled with the moment of realizing something was wrong with her cognitive abilities as she tried to speak to us that day, finding only a slur of words and a distant stare, told me that this was the last bend in the river. She was heading into the last leg of her journey. An hour after I had her admitted, because she couldn't use her right leg, and I could no longer carry her from bed to chair, she had a seizure. It was the most frightening moment in my life, mostly because it was so frightening for her. She is all about control in her life. Her strength and ability to be in control helped her raise three children alone, after all.
Tomorrow, she goes to the Williston Respite House, where she will have her own room, be a resident and not a patient, and be able to get some strength back for this final leg of the journey. My one wish for her is that she can just 'go home and feel normal again and play with Daniel' (her youngest grandchild) at some point over the next few weeks. It's not much to ask is it? A night in her own bed, an afternoon with the grandchildren?
Life used to seem so difficult. This journey has given me the blessing of so much quality time with my mother, and some not so quality time. It's allowed me to see how deep the roots of strength grow inside of me. Now, as I release my burden, and move into a time where I can simply visit with her, the words are blossoming again. Again, a gift from my mother. Always, she is giving to me, even during her own struggles.
I've also been on this long and dark journey called cancer with my Mom. (Well, she's in the dark water, I'm just on the shore helplessly looking on.) A friend of mine from college wrote diligently every day when his wife was struggling with cancer, to the point where if I hadn't begun to read his blog before she passed, I wouldn't have known when/where her funeral was. He's currently working through a memoir about her/their experience. I can see how his writing kept him sane and strong during the process.
For me, it has been the opposite. Me, the girl who started to read in the womb, the girl who was writing and binding her own books when she was eleven, the girl who said in 5th grade, "I'm going to become a writer when I grow up, Mom."
It's as if words are a molten stone on my tongue. They sear the moment out of my mind if I try to capture them, wipe away the deep swirl of emotion, the fast ticking of the clock inside my mother's body. Sometime during the last four months, my mind drifted from words until - for once in my life - that noisy voice in my head fell silent. Perhaps that is my own form of therapy. I've been saying for years I'm going to learn to meditate, to keep my anxious mind in line. Now it's been forced on me. For several weeks, I've only been able to read poetry, and then only sporadically. Anything longer could not hold my attention. Nature holds my attention now. I sit on my porch at midnight and watch the full moon whisper through the tree branches and past my besom (Witch's broom). I drive to Burlington and watch clouds caress the mountains - clouds shaped like angels and doves sometimes, or dark fingered spectres. The hills are so green it burns my eyes, the sunset so orange I can feel the heat of the sun in my chest.
The worst time I've had was the last three days before we admitted my mother to the Fletcher Allen because I could no longer take care of her. The crushing moment of having to let her care go into someone else's hands, coupled with the moment of realizing something was wrong with her cognitive abilities as she tried to speak to us that day, finding only a slur of words and a distant stare, told me that this was the last bend in the river. She was heading into the last leg of her journey. An hour after I had her admitted, because she couldn't use her right leg, and I could no longer carry her from bed to chair, she had a seizure. It was the most frightening moment in my life, mostly because it was so frightening for her. She is all about control in her life. Her strength and ability to be in control helped her raise three children alone, after all.
Tomorrow, she goes to the Williston Respite House, where she will have her own room, be a resident and not a patient, and be able to get some strength back for this final leg of the journey. My one wish for her is that she can just 'go home and feel normal again and play with Daniel' (her youngest grandchild) at some point over the next few weeks. It's not much to ask is it? A night in her own bed, an afternoon with the grandchildren?
Life used to seem so difficult. This journey has given me the blessing of so much quality time with my mother, and some not so quality time. It's allowed me to see how deep the roots of strength grow inside of me. Now, as I release my burden, and move into a time where I can simply visit with her, the words are blossoming again. Again, a gift from my mother. Always, she is giving to me, even during her own struggles.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Spring at last, Spring at last!
So wow. So much for updating more regularly. Some of you may have noticed I'm now hooked into twitter.com. You can follow me there! Of course I 've got like, the best record for having NO ONE following me! A couple of retailers have tagged my butt for following, but I have brushed them off my list. I am, of course, following The Nature Conservancy, Ten Downing Street (the office of the English Prime Minister), and David Hewlett (@dhewlett) as he is one of my favorite actors. I'm also following his sister, Kate Hewlett, which sounds like a great stalker line, doesn't it? But following other performing artists makes me feel more connected to the 'biz.'
My mom got her first catscan this week after about 9 weeks of chemotherapy. The tumor is shrinking! Whoo! Of course, it becomes a double edged sword. I couldn't get her on the phone last night as I'm sure she was talking to many folks, but I can't help but think she was probably like "GREAT!... uh... great, more chemo..." But I'm happy to hear this news and I'm sure she is too.
Spring is here. I can't wait to actually see the little buds begin to sprout and that fabulous light green, new-leaf color on the trees! But for now I am content to have the sunshine. I feel like a person thrown down a dark hole for six years right now. I am sure I was a cat in a former life, as I spend all of my free time basking in the sun, in windows at the library, in the pizza parlor, and on the street against the brick walls. (No, I swear I am not a prostitute, sir, just leaning here to get the sun!)
Here's to spring... May it reign for many more weeks.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Fearful? or Fearless?
I couldn't sleep last night. Who let me have 3 large caffeinated beverages yesterday? So I got up to read a bit after I'd been in bed about an hour last night. The book I am reading is called “Broken Open: how difficult times can help us grow” by Elizabeth Lesser. There were repeatedly notes and comments that aligned so perfectly with the work I’ve been doing the last 5 years, it was amazing.
You see, I've been working with a local counselor who does dreamwork. I've been patiently, methodically trying to pry open the heavy cellar door to my subconscious, my essence, my soul. In between, I've also found "Lexipro." You bet! I took Lexipro for the first time three years ago. After three days, I turned to Terri while we were standing in the living room and I said, "Wow. So this is how normal people feel isn't it?" Tears welled up in my eyes a moment because I felt so tender, so in awe of the moment. You could say I"m a bit of an anxious person and always have been. So now it's the work and the medicine. That moment of calm inside the storm that the medicine has created for me, allows me to do the work or "The Work" as those of us in-process call it. Eventually, I'll be off of the Lexipro.
So in this book I was reading, there was this quote from Chogyam Trungpa (Who first taught Tibetan Buddhism in the US).
“When we slow down, when we relax with our fear, we find sadness, which is calm and gentle. Sadness hits you in your heart... this is the first sign of real warriorship...Discovering fearlessness comes from working with the softness of the human heart."
My human heart has been feeling quite soft and vulnerable lately. It’s not a bad thing, it's something delicate I am balancing inside of, like the feeling of being fresh white linen hung on the line in a hurricane. I can feel the wind, feel the ‘phwup’ of material billowing, and feel most of all the tenuous, rough line I am hung on. On either side, the tight, splintered clothespins. Will the wind ever stop? Sometimes it does, and when it does it brings a fresh air like none other.
Remember spring mornings when you were a child, or the way the field outside your house smelled at dawn, when the dew was accompanied by the thick downy blanket of a fallen white thundercloud in the valley below, and the sound of the black crows, that moved incessantly back and forth across the empty baseball field, cawing out, first one, then another, calmly, methodically pecking at carcasses and dried grass seeds and bugs. They picked the land clean for their meal with such a calm you had to wonder, if you could live like a crow, feel the calm swell of death as it came slinking off of the surface of the earth, its cool dark shadow expanding silently, would you be fearful? Or fearless?
You see, I've been working with a local counselor who does dreamwork. I've been patiently, methodically trying to pry open the heavy cellar door to my subconscious, my essence, my soul. In between, I've also found "Lexipro." You bet! I took Lexipro for the first time three years ago. After three days, I turned to Terri while we were standing in the living room and I said, "Wow. So this is how normal people feel isn't it?" Tears welled up in my eyes a moment because I felt so tender, so in awe of the moment. You could say I"m a bit of an anxious person and always have been. So now it's the work and the medicine. That moment of calm inside the storm that the medicine has created for me, allows me to do the work or "The Work" as those of us in-process call it. Eventually, I'll be off of the Lexipro.
So in this book I was reading, there was this quote from Chogyam Trungpa (Who first taught Tibetan Buddhism in the US).
“When we slow down, when we relax with our fear, we find sadness, which is calm and gentle. Sadness hits you in your heart... this is the first sign of real warriorship...Discovering fearlessness comes from working with the softness of the human heart."
My human heart has been feeling quite soft and vulnerable lately. It’s not a bad thing, it's something delicate I am balancing inside of, like the feeling of being fresh white linen hung on the line in a hurricane. I can feel the wind, feel the ‘phwup’ of material billowing, and feel most of all the tenuous, rough line I am hung on. On either side, the tight, splintered clothespins. Will the wind ever stop? Sometimes it does, and when it does it brings a fresh air like none other.
Remember spring mornings when you were a child, or the way the field outside your house smelled at dawn, when the dew was accompanied by the thick downy blanket of a fallen white thundercloud in the valley below, and the sound of the black crows, that moved incessantly back and forth across the empty baseball field, cawing out, first one, then another, calmly, methodically pecking at carcasses and dried grass seeds and bugs. They picked the land clean for their meal with such a calm you had to wonder, if you could live like a crow, feel the calm swell of death as it came slinking off of the surface of the earth, its cool dark shadow expanding silently, would you be fearful? Or fearless?
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Its been too long...
What is it about this blog that has made me feel a bit like I'm creating 'porno for the soul,' [as my friend Elizabeth Wilcox calls poetry] and showing it to everyone? Does anyone else feel this way? I haven't posted in a long time because I just started to feel weird about it all, like my underwear were drying on the line for all to see...I mean, I know it will sound daffy to those who know me well, because I've been keeping journals and telling lo-o-o-ong stories since I can remember, but this is different. My journals, I might have thought sometimes, might be found when I died and published by some descendant or relative (What author hasn't thought of that?), but this! I think it and it can be put out there. Poof! And I began to limit myself too much I think. Kim, artist, thinker, ponderer of artistic truths and ideas... blah, blah...
Let's get back to basics. Life. That's got to be the subject of any blog. Period. Anything else I could come up with is too restrictive.
So what have I been up to since my revelation on June 14 that I CAN'T play the young ingénue any more? Briefly - and in reverse order...
Let's get back to basics. Life. That's got to be the subject of any blog. Period. Anything else I could come up with is too restrictive.
So what have I been up to since my revelation on June 14 that I CAN'T play the young ingénue any more? Briefly - and in reverse order...
- Had the week of Christmas off so hung with family through the holidays. Terri and I stayed three days at my moms watching Lifetime networks "Fa la la la lifetime" movies and visiting, etc. (etc., including working on that afghan which is almost done already in only 6 weeks.) We then went to the hospital with her for a biopsy as she has a cyst on her adrenal gland and a mass in her lung. Shit. Perhaps more on that later, perhaps not...My youngest nephew, Daniel, is tooling around like a walking maniac, making up his own sentences in that foreign language, baby-talk, and he's a joy and a charmer! My older nephews are soon to be 22 and 17! Holy Crap when did that happen! They, too are charmers. My two nieces are both about 18 now also - no, wait 17...? Eash! And both working hard at discovering how to navigate the world. Family is good, really. Can't beat it.
- Spent two different evenings celebrating Yule this year. One as a spontaneous chance to get together with two fabulous friends who Terri and I never get to see, Denise and Linda, just four women in a room chatting, taking in life, the universe and everything and supporting each other. The other at my friend Margie's with a few friends - of course the Full Moon Sister's Lodge was there, and Mae, Pam's daughter. Then there were Walter and Robin, two of my favorite people in the world! And Margie's brother, Mike. We had a nice night. We sent out some good vibes to the Universe and asked for the light to come back as we are all ready for that.
- Played the stage manager/Foley artist in the radio show/stage version of "It's a Wonderful Life" at Lost Nation Theater in December (while working madly to finish a new afghan I'd begun crocheting in November.
- Ran the lights/sound for Translations by Brian Friel at Fairfax Community Theatre Company in November (While starting that little granny-square afghan.)
- Decided to really take on producing "Love Letters Made Easy" by fellow VT Playwrights Circle member, Jeanne Beckwith at Winterfest this year (at Lost Nation Theater.) I will be directing with some support from Kathleen Keenan, co-artistic producer at LNT. (Hang on tight folks!!) I think it will be great.
- Finished my play "Sanctuary, or the Forensics of Sacrifice" in late October and gathered 11 actors to read the play in my tiny living room on November 6th...(?) It was fantastic to hear it aloud and now I know what to cut, where to move, what to create. I just have to sit down and do it!
- Decided in late August that in October that I would 'do nothing' meaning I would not schedule any meetings, volunteer to usher or stage manage, or help anyone out with any projects. I DID IT!!! And it was very refreshing. The result? See November/December above for the backlash. ;-) A girl's got to work hard to break old habits. We'll be trying this again, perhaps in March, as Love Letters goes up on Feb 12th.
- Labor Day weekend, the Vermont Playwrights Circle produced a Ten-Fest at the Valley Player's Theater space. My what fun! I stepped in to stage manage just for the run and of course co-produced it. It was a rousing success! We had more and more folks in the audience every night and I got to play the Foley artist for a short play that we changed into a radio play, thus spawning my opportunity to reprise the Foley artist role in LNT's holiday production (see above for "It's a Wonderful Life.") The audience loved it and everyone who worked on the show really enjoyed the experience. It was our first money maker ever.
- July is a blur. I think that's due to our Annual Members Meeting at work at The Nature Conservancy...
- In June, I was killing myself co-producing the Vermont Contemporary Playwrights Forum/Vermont Playwrights Circle's two weeks of play readings.
- Through all of this, and for several years, I've been seeing a dream counselor. He does great work. This is a guy who doesn't keep you in your pathology but helps you to navigate the waters of self-awareness. Don't know if anyone has noticed a change, but I have. Of course, the Lexipro I take for my anxiety helps, but it's about nature & nurture here. There are a few things a gal's got to do to make the process work and grow and learn about herself. trying to do that as I go. It's made a great difference for me. More on that in later posts...
Saturday, June 14, 2008
"What do you mean I can't play a 17 year old girl anymore?"
So I haven't posted in some time. For the past month, I've definitely been in what we in theater call "production mode." For the past several years The Vermont Playwrights Circle (VPC) has been running a summer reading series. Once a month, whether the moon be full or nay, (for my WICCAN friends) we gather and read a new script by a local playwright. The public is invited, Lost Nation Theater opens their doors to us when the theater is 'dark' (i.e. no main stage show is running) and we come in, set up, read, talk-back, have cookies and punch and go home. Reading complete.
Sometimes the play is something one of our core members has written, sometimes it's a play by someone brand new to us, something submitted into the ether after VPC has posted a call for scripts. We are lucky enough to receive dozens of scripts each year, which we comb through with loving care, while the author holds their breath hoping for a 'yes.' Either way, what has usually happened between our posting a call for scripts and the actual night of the reading is a mayhem and flurry of phone calls from me asking folks to help us, either by reading, posting fliers, bringing brownies for intermission or handing out programs.
That's when run the series once a month.
Last year, one of our member's lovely wives, Caroline, suggested we put all our efforts into something more concentrated, say a week or two, and ride along on the coat tails of some other festival or event. This seemed a great idea, and I think it was, however, in retrospect, it's like that saying parents have about children. One is a lot of work, two is three times the work, three is five times the work... etc. To be running 8 plays in two weeks is a bit crazy! But we've been doing it, and having a blast, and I hope the audiences only continue to grow. (The core audience for a reading of a new work usually consists of the friends & relatives of the author and the actors.) We'll see.
Meanwhile, as I've scrambled around, culling names and numbers of readers from tiny scraps of paper, old cast lists, my yahoo address book, suggestions from friends and really just people on the street that I know, (We asked some girls who work at Subway and a friend who works at the toy store to read.) I've come to realize that at the age of 42, I am no longer a viable stand-in for the part of "Lizzie, the 17 year old girlfriend to Joe" in "My Son, My Son," which we'll be performing tonight.
WHAT?! When could that possibly have happened?!!
When did I go from being 17, 125 lbs (I just changed that on my licence this year... ahem.) to being 179 lbs, 42, a bit 'long in the tooth' to play the teenage girlfriend? Ugh. (And yet... it was thanks to my age I got to play Abigail Adams in 1776 a few years back too, so the perks sometimes balance out the weight of the years (pun intended).)
So yes, I've been pretty busy. Yes, I have done nothing but eat, sleep, dream, eat, drink theater for the past several days while I have been 'on vacation' from work, and yes, after this week, my summer seems to open up in my mind like a wide vista of swimming, sunbathing, sipping tea and perhaps even going out with friends at night. Still, Terri and I have made it a point NOT to skip an early drive to rehearsal for a baby creamie at the local stand. I've made a point to sit outside in the glorious sun and eat my dinner before going into the darkened theater, and I've tried to just relax on the porch with breakfast each morning. These are the things that keep you going.
As far as I can tell, my family and friends still have no idea why I do it. Why do all of this theater when I'm not even on Broadway or getting a salary from it? Heck, I have no idea, some days, as I am slogging through the work end of it all. Until the answer appears on the faces of the audience (remember; friends & family of the playwright) and of the playwright when the lights come up, and they are wiping their eyes, nodding, saying under their breath "uh huh. Yes." THAT is why I do it. That, and the moment when you hear and see the story take off on its own.
As Grace and Joan lay back in an imaginary parking garage at the Miss United States Pageant, talking about the silence, bonding, wondering if their heifer will win the contest in "The Heifer Pageant" by Eddie Gale of Johnson and as Rosalee and her mentor talk for the last time in the classroom in "Rosalee was Here" by Maura Campbell of Burlington, or as I myself am onstage playing the character of Jennifer who is at her friend Katie's party, and I look around and see six amazing women and 4wonderful men acting out this zany moment when Katie is trying - via Power Point show, to decide who the right man is to marry in "The Wedding Party" by Maureen Hennigan - I know, without a doubt, that if there were nothing else in my life but theater, I would be content.
This is why we do this, and this is why I hope someday to be able to entice others who don't always think of a night at the theater as a way to spend the evening - or who go to the theater but are worried to take a chance on something brand new and unpolished - to take a chance on new works. I hope to convince people that the adventure of stepping into the darkened theater knowing the playwright sits in the audience chewing their nails, that the characters they are about to watch, and the story that is about to unfold are new, just born, just stumbling to their toddler legs, is one of the wonderful adventures worth experiencing.
www.vermontplaywrightscircle.org/SummerSeries.html
Sometimes the play is something one of our core members has written, sometimes it's a play by someone brand new to us, something submitted into the ether after VPC has posted a call for scripts. We are lucky enough to receive dozens of scripts each year, which we comb through with loving care, while the author holds their breath hoping for a 'yes.' Either way, what has usually happened between our posting a call for scripts and the actual night of the reading is a mayhem and flurry of phone calls from me asking folks to help us, either by reading, posting fliers, bringing brownies for intermission or handing out programs.
That's when run the series once a month.
Last year, one of our member's lovely wives, Caroline, suggested we put all our efforts into something more concentrated, say a week or two, and ride along on the coat tails of some other festival or event. This seemed a great idea, and I think it was, however, in retrospect, it's like that saying parents have about children. One is a lot of work, two is three times the work, three is five times the work... etc. To be running 8 plays in two weeks is a bit crazy! But we've been doing it, and having a blast, and I hope the audiences only continue to grow. (The core audience for a reading of a new work usually consists of the friends & relatives of the author and the actors.) We'll see.
Meanwhile, as I've scrambled around, culling names and numbers of readers from tiny scraps of paper, old cast lists, my yahoo address book, suggestions from friends and really just people on the street that I know, (We asked some girls who work at Subway and a friend who works at the toy store to read.) I've come to realize that at the age of 42, I am no longer a viable stand-in for the part of "Lizzie, the 17 year old girlfriend to Joe" in "My Son, My Son," which we'll be performing tonight.
WHAT?! When could that possibly have happened?!!
When did I go from being 17, 125 lbs (I just changed that on my licence this year... ahem.) to being 179 lbs, 42, a bit 'long in the tooth' to play the teenage girlfriend? Ugh. (And yet... it was thanks to my age I got to play Abigail Adams in 1776 a few years back too, so the perks sometimes balance out the weight of the years (pun intended).)
So yes, I've been pretty busy. Yes, I have done nothing but eat, sleep, dream, eat, drink theater for the past several days while I have been 'on vacation' from work, and yes, after this week, my summer seems to open up in my mind like a wide vista of swimming, sunbathing, sipping tea and perhaps even going out with friends at night. Still, Terri and I have made it a point NOT to skip an early drive to rehearsal for a baby creamie at the local stand. I've made a point to sit outside in the glorious sun and eat my dinner before going into the darkened theater, and I've tried to just relax on the porch with breakfast each morning. These are the things that keep you going.
As far as I can tell, my family and friends still have no idea why I do it. Why do all of this theater when I'm not even on Broadway or getting a salary from it? Heck, I have no idea, some days, as I am slogging through the work end of it all. Until the answer appears on the faces of the audience (remember; friends & family of the playwright) and of the playwright when the lights come up, and they are wiping their eyes, nodding, saying under their breath "uh huh. Yes." THAT is why I do it. That, and the moment when you hear and see the story take off on its own.
As Grace and Joan lay back in an imaginary parking garage at the Miss United States Pageant, talking about the silence, bonding, wondering if their heifer will win the contest in "The Heifer Pageant" by Eddie Gale of Johnson and as Rosalee and her mentor talk for the last time in the classroom in "Rosalee was Here" by Maura Campbell of Burlington, or as I myself am onstage playing the character of Jennifer who is at her friend Katie's party, and I look around and see six amazing women and 4wonderful men acting out this zany moment when Katie is trying - via Power Point show, to decide who the right man is to marry in "The Wedding Party" by Maureen Hennigan - I know, without a doubt, that if there were nothing else in my life but theater, I would be content.
This is why we do this, and this is why I hope someday to be able to entice others who don't always think of a night at the theater as a way to spend the evening - or who go to the theater but are worried to take a chance on something brand new and unpolished - to take a chance on new works. I hope to convince people that the adventure of stepping into the darkened theater knowing the playwright sits in the audience chewing their nails, that the characters they are about to watch, and the story that is about to unfold are new, just born, just stumbling to their toddler legs, is one of the wonderful adventures worth experiencing.
www.vermontplaywrightscircle.org/SummerSeries.html
Friday, May 9, 2008
The Answer to Life, The Universe, and EVERYTHING...
42. Yup. 42 is how much I turned this week. Inconceivable. My friend, Doug, introduced me to the bit in "The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy" where this civilization makes a supercomputer to figure out the answers to "life, the universe and everything." It works, and works, and works, for thousands of years, for lifetimes, for generations and when it finally says "I have found the answer," they ask it to tell them, so "what's the answer?" and it says "Forty... two..."
So that's it, for a year I'll have all the answers!
I can remember, when I was little, calculating how old I would be when the year 2000 hit and thinking, "Wow. Will I make it to 34?" Seems so silly now. I mean, D'uh! Of course I was going to make it to my 30s! That's small potatoes, change, younginsville!
It didn't rain on my birthday this year. I didn't get one present, AND I was VERY HAPPY about it! ;-)
I got a lot of good wishes, had dinner at Sarducci's, the best Italian place in town, on the veranda with the windows open, overlooking the beautiful spring view and the river, and sipping a glass of white wine made in Australia. The day of my birthday I started putting together a submission for the 14th annual international women's playwrighting festival in Rhode Island. Yesterday I sent it, by God.
I am truly Blessed to live where I do, have what I have, and be who I am.
Wow. Now let's all have a great week! and happy spring to you all.
So that's it, for a year I'll have all the answers!
I can remember, when I was little, calculating how old I would be when the year 2000 hit and thinking, "Wow. Will I make it to 34?" Seems so silly now. I mean, D'uh! Of course I was going to make it to my 30s! That's small potatoes, change, younginsville!
It didn't rain on my birthday this year. I didn't get one present, AND I was VERY HAPPY about it! ;-)
I got a lot of good wishes, had dinner at Sarducci's, the best Italian place in town, on the veranda with the windows open, overlooking the beautiful spring view and the river, and sipping a glass of white wine made in Australia. The day of my birthday I started putting together a submission for the 14th annual international women's playwrighting festival in Rhode Island. Yesterday I sent it, by God.
I am truly Blessed to live where I do, have what I have, and be who I am.
Wow. Now let's all have a great week! and happy spring to you all.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Warm Sunshine, Movies, Poems & Plays...
Spring is finally here in Vermont and I am so relieved to be able to walk outside in regular shoes and a light sweater! I can understand more and more how all of our grandparents could go to Florida each year to escape the winter. After 41+1/2 years of it, I am ready to go somewhere warm next February/March.
A few suggestions for amazing movies to see. Terri and I have spent a lot of time culling the shelves of our local Capital Video (and the lists of Netflix, too...shhh, don't tell Capital Video!) for compelling movies to watch. Our friends Maggie and David also give us choice ideas whenever they see something.
At the theaters
Horton Hears a Who! was actually done quite well. Our favorite character in the whole thing was Jo Jo and Jim Carey and Steve Carell were fantastic. But, alas, this is the only thing out right now that we've seen at the theaters.
On Video
"Feast of Love" with Morgan Freeman and Greg Kinear. Rent it. See it. Get a box of tissues and remember this movie was made from a novel by the same guy who wrote "The Hours" (which is also an intense and unconventional movie.)
"Things We Lost in the Fire" with Halle Berry and Benicio Del Toro and directed by Susanne Bier. Wow. Riveting. Something you can watch even if you have several loved ones with addiction, and I think understandable if you don't. I wanted to smack Halle Berry's character about half way through. Stuck with it because I realized her character was so real I WANTED to smack her! I have to see EVERYTHING directed by this woman now! Unfortunately almost everything she's done is in Danish, so I'll have to find a foreign film section to see them.
OK - true to my word last blog posting, I have submitted two submissions of poetry so far this month. My goal is to put out there at least 5 submissions. Check out the two online lit mags I've posted to so far:
wicked alice poetry journal: http://www.sundress.net/wickedalice/
Stirring: a Literary Collection: http://www.sundress.net/stirring/index.html
I've also made myself sign up for the open poetry reading at Bear Pond Books on April 29th. I've skipped the last two years as I didn't feel I had anything new to read. I will this year. Work, work, work...
I wrote two short stories in March and am beginning to prepare to sit down for three days and write out my play "The Forensics of Sacrifice" which has been in process for almost a year now. The idea for this play came out of my reading two books. "Stiff" by Mary Roach, which chronicles what happens to donated bodies in our society. and a memoir of a survivor of "MBP" (see below.) called "Sickened" by Julie Gregory.
The story from "Stiff" that struck me was of a man who was studying how Christ died on the cross by having students come in and be hung on crosses. (though just with safe wrist cuffs, etc.) to see if Christ died of asphyxiation, exsanguination, etc. He was working one day when a girl came into his lab and asked if he would actually nail her to the cross. Ouch!
Then in "Sickened" by Julie Gregory, we read the chronicle of the life of a young girl who is abused by her mother through the abusive syndrome called "Munchausen by Proxy."
See: http://www.clevelandclinic.org/health/health-info/docs/2800/2822.asp?index=9834
When I heard of the girl who had asked to be nailed to the cross, I thought, "what would make a girl want to do such a thing?" When I read "Sickened" I thought, "perhaps this type of experience." The idea is that I want to write this play telling how a girl finds a way to cleanse herself of her abuser's touch through the ultimate moment of sacrifice...
I get to read things like "The History of Crucifixion" and "A forensic Study of Christ's Crucifixion" for this one, along with "Forensics for Dummies." I have to unfortunately return to all of my research "MBP" for this one, though. It's been too long since I read Julie Gregory's memoir (see http://www.enotalone.com/authors.php?aid=775)[though her personal site has been shut down recently.] and all of the other supporting material. The idea for the rewrite is coming together slowly this past month, though.
During all of that, I have begun to put together more concrete ideas for the staging of "Angel in the Fire" and will post some more thoughts on my "Angel..." blog in the coming week, but to give a tidbit on that, I think this piece needs to go multi-media to do all that I want it to. Stay tuned!
And finally, we've gotten in 7 or 8 scripts from local writers for the Vermont Playwrights Circle's summer reading series! Fabulous. The deadline is this Saturday, April 12th so I hope we get a couple more. Then I get to sit down and read them all and put together a few days of readings, collect actors, set up performances, make posters and programs! Woo hoo!
I'm still just a child with a pair of (digital) scissors and tape. Whether it's through fiction, poetry, collage, dance, plays or what have you, I just like to assemble things.
A few suggestions for amazing movies to see. Terri and I have spent a lot of time culling the shelves of our local Capital Video (and the lists of Netflix, too...shhh, don't tell Capital Video!) for compelling movies to watch. Our friends Maggie and David also give us choice ideas whenever they see something.
At the theaters
Horton Hears a Who! was actually done quite well. Our favorite character in the whole thing was Jo Jo and Jim Carey and Steve Carell were fantastic. But, alas, this is the only thing out right now that we've seen at the theaters.
On Video
"Feast of Love" with Morgan Freeman and Greg Kinear. Rent it. See it. Get a box of tissues and remember this movie was made from a novel by the same guy who wrote "The Hours" (which is also an intense and unconventional movie.)
"Things We Lost in the Fire" with Halle Berry and Benicio Del Toro and directed by Susanne Bier. Wow. Riveting. Something you can watch even if you have several loved ones with addiction, and I think understandable if you don't. I wanted to smack Halle Berry's character about half way through. Stuck with it because I realized her character was so real I WANTED to smack her! I have to see EVERYTHING directed by this woman now! Unfortunately almost everything she's done is in Danish, so I'll have to find a foreign film section to see them.
OK - true to my word last blog posting, I have submitted two submissions of poetry so far this month. My goal is to put out there at least 5 submissions. Check out the two online lit mags I've posted to so far:
wicked alice poetry journal: http://www.sundress.net/wickedalice/
Stirring: a Literary Collection: http://www.sundress.net/stirring/index.html
I've also made myself sign up for the open poetry reading at Bear Pond Books on April 29th. I've skipped the last two years as I didn't feel I had anything new to read. I will this year. Work, work, work...
I wrote two short stories in March and am beginning to prepare to sit down for three days and write out my play "The Forensics of Sacrifice" which has been in process for almost a year now. The idea for this play came out of my reading two books. "Stiff" by Mary Roach, which chronicles what happens to donated bodies in our society. and a memoir of a survivor of "MBP" (see below.) called "Sickened" by Julie Gregory.
The story from "Stiff" that struck me was of a man who was studying how Christ died on the cross by having students come in and be hung on crosses. (though just with safe wrist cuffs, etc.) to see if Christ died of asphyxiation, exsanguination, etc. He was working one day when a girl came into his lab and asked if he would actually nail her to the cross. Ouch!
Then in "Sickened" by Julie Gregory, we read the chronicle of the life of a young girl who is abused by her mother through the abusive syndrome called "Munchausen by Proxy."
See: http://www.clevelandclinic.org/health/health-info/docs/2800/2822.asp?index=9834
When I heard of the girl who had asked to be nailed to the cross, I thought, "what would make a girl want to do such a thing?" When I read "Sickened" I thought, "perhaps this type of experience." The idea is that I want to write this play telling how a girl finds a way to cleanse herself of her abuser's touch through the ultimate moment of sacrifice...
I get to read things like "The History of Crucifixion" and "A forensic Study of Christ's Crucifixion" for this one, along with "Forensics for Dummies." I have to unfortunately return to all of my research "MBP" for this one, though. It's been too long since I read Julie Gregory's memoir (see http://www.enotalone.com/authors.php?aid=775)[though her personal site has been shut down recently.] and all of the other supporting material. The idea for the rewrite is coming together slowly this past month, though.
During all of that, I have begun to put together more concrete ideas for the staging of "Angel in the Fire" and will post some more thoughts on my "Angel..." blog in the coming week, but to give a tidbit on that, I think this piece needs to go multi-media to do all that I want it to. Stay tuned!
And finally, we've gotten in 7 or 8 scripts from local writers for the Vermont Playwrights Circle's summer reading series! Fabulous. The deadline is this Saturday, April 12th so I hope we get a couple more. Then I get to sit down and read them all and put together a few days of readings, collect actors, set up performances, make posters and programs! Woo hoo!
I'm still just a child with a pair of (digital) scissors and tape. Whether it's through fiction, poetry, collage, dance, plays or what have you, I just like to assemble things.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Readings, Writings & Partnership
Well Terri had her first reading of her very first play this past Saturday! Woo hoo! The reading went smoothly, the rewrites she did between rehearsals were small yet significantly improved the piece, and the audience and actors had nothing but glowing reviews for her. There was a lot of insightful feedback gathered during the talk back. Terri's already begun to tear the thing apart and add in needed scenes. I can see that the main structure will stay. She's so very good at knowing what needs to happen that I honestly am astonished, not because I ever doubted she had the skill, but because it is a sight to behold such bold talent in action.
The best part of this whole experience has been having other people hear it so they can join in with my chorus of praise. (partners often don't believe each other when told they are brilliant.)
The second best part is that we're both often found furiously pounding away at the keyboard together, writing, or rewriting, our masterpieces. It's great fun.
I have set my sights on performing "Angel in the Fire" this coming winter, but there are new plays coming off the presses soon, as well as two stories I completed in March. I am also considering submitting some poetry for publication again. (I must be a glutton for punishment to want to go that route again!) Or an eternal optimist.
Here's to creativity.
The best part of this whole experience has been having other people hear it so they can join in with my chorus of praise. (partners often don't believe each other when told they are brilliant.)
The second best part is that we're both often found furiously pounding away at the keyboard together, writing, or rewriting, our masterpieces. It's great fun.
I have set my sights on performing "Angel in the Fire" this coming winter, but there are new plays coming off the presses soon, as well as two stories I completed in March. I am also considering submitting some poetry for publication again. (I must be a glutton for punishment to want to go that route again!) Or an eternal optimist.
Here's to creativity.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Spring Flu Season
So false alarm. turns out Doug just had his phone off. He called me back very chipper and feeling pretty much the same as he has been and said, "I found out I had left my phone off for the last few days. I was carrying it around with me, in my coat pocket, etc., but it wasn't on, so I have all these messages I'm returning now."
And I said, "phew."
Of course, soon after that both Terri and I came down with what my mother euphemistically calls "the creeping crud" and we've both been down for the count. Today is day 5. Day FIVE! of the flu.
On a good note I wrote a short story somewhere in those 5 days.
Hey, we take the good with the bad.
Now if I could only get the cats to stop asking to go out and in and out and in...
Ah, spring flu season!
And I said, "phew."
Of course, soon after that both Terri and I came down with what my mother euphemistically calls "the creeping crud" and we've both been down for the count. Today is day 5. Day FIVE! of the flu.
On a good note I wrote a short story somewhere in those 5 days.
Hey, we take the good with the bad.
Now if I could only get the cats to stop asking to go out and in and out and in...
Ah, spring flu season!
Friday, March 21, 2008
Strange Relations
OK - I have to admit to being worried, and I know those who know me well will understand, but I still feel strange. My ex-husband's got Lymphoma. He's on treatment three - or is it four? and he's finally had to shave his head as he's been threatening and says he aches in his bones all the time. He's been putting on a brave front on his blog, but I see where he hasn't posted this week since his last Chemo treatment and so I called him on my lunch break. No answer.
I know he's probably at home feeling miserable and with the three dogs staring at him and wishing he'd pet them. I know he fell down and can't get up and doesn't have one of those little necklace thingys. I know he fell down a well and Lassy needs to go rescue him, I know I feel guilty because I'm his ex-wife and he should have someone with him right now and he's single and bored with his daily regiment and can't have folks over much due to his low immune system and...... I know. That's just dumb. We're divorced after all right?
I know he's probably at home feeling miserable and with the three dogs staring at him and wishing he'd pet them. I know he fell down and can't get up and doesn't have one of those little necklace thingys. I know he fell down a well and Lassy needs to go rescue him, I know I feel guilty because I'm his ex-wife and he should have someone with him right now and he's single and bored with his daily regiment and can't have folks over much due to his low immune system and...
But those of you who don't know us, won't realize that my partner Terri and I call Doug "Our Ex-Husband," and he and I paid like $76 bucks in some legal office with one legal guy and said, "divorce is done, you take the cat, I'll take that cooking pan, Phew! Let's go to lunch!" and he came to My and Terri's wedding and gifted us with a beautiful krokinole board he made (We'll need another post to explain krokinole, which I'm sure I'm mis-spelling) and he's one of my favorite people in the world and he deserves to have a partner with him at his side right now, hanging in there with him and... I know... I'm being dumb.
So, I'll just wait to hear from him when he's feeling better, 'cause I'm sure if I were home feeling crappy I wouldn't answer my phone either.
It's funny because most people who have only met me since I've lived in Montpelier have to hear that whole story with a puzzled look and they go "Oh! You were married before I didn't know that!" and it always makes me feel strange that folks don't GET that a woman who lives with and is in a committed relationship with a woman might actually have not been attacked, run over, molested, or raped by a zillion men to get there and/or just hate them out of some genetic requirement.
So, I'll just wait to hear from him when he's feeling better, 'cause I'm sure if I were home feeling crappy I wouldn't answer my phone either.
It's funny because most people who have only met me since I've lived in Montpelier have to hear that whole story with a puzzled look and they go "Oh! You were married before I didn't know that!" and it always makes me feel strange that folks don't GET that a woman who lives with and is in a committed relationship with a woman might actually have not been attacked, run over, molested, or raped by a zillion men to get there and/or just hate them out of some genetic requirement.
The fact is, I have been in love many times in my life. Never has the requirement been that the person had to be one gender or the other. So yes, Doug and I found eventually that though we cared about each other we just were miserable living together. We found after a short period of adjustment we could be friends, and it turned out to be the basis for why we weren't breaking up. I mean, we felt like "If I still like you I can't get a divorce 'cause we'll be required to hate each other..." Maybe that's the more idiotic idea, and we didn't make that one up.
I remember actually going to the therapist after my divorce - she was our couples therapist while we tried to work things out - and saying - "Man am I NORMAL? I'm happy. I'm not trying to break into my ex husband's house and steal the cat or the car or some conch shell we picked up on our honey moon and I'm not trailing him with a private eye or something..." and she said "Yeah. You're normal. Those other things people do are the abnormal behavior. That'll be $50." Hey, and I gladly paid that. Why not?
Relations are strange... But hey, Some day before I die I'll start to accept that actually, that fact is also the norm.
I remember actually going to the therapist after my divorce - she was our couples therapist while we tried to work things out - and saying - "Man am I NORMAL? I'm happy. I'm not trying to break into my ex husband's house and steal the cat or the car or some conch shell we picked up on our honey moon and I'm not trailing him with a private eye or something..." and she said "Yeah. You're normal. Those other things people do are the abnormal behavior. That'll be $50." Hey, and I gladly paid that. Why not?
Relations are strange... But hey, Some day before I die I'll start to accept that actually, that fact is also the norm.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Vacation finally...
Well, I've finally made it to a week of vacation in March. Very nice. Where am I going did you say? My favorite vacation plans... nowhere...!
So now I get to settle in and rest & relax. One of the biggest things I've been looking forward to on this vacation is a chance to do some writing. I've done so little over the last month or two.
Just a quick report on how the panel went last Saturday. It was marvelous! A lot of work, but it was really worth it to be able to be in a room full of a dozen or more playwrights. To quote Sarah Brock, (who wrote an amazing play about 5 medieval women trying to keep their castle after the Lord dies called "Twist in the Rising") "It's good to be in a room full of people who don't think I'm crazy when I say I hear voices in my head."
Just a quick report on how the panel went last Saturday. It was marvelous! A lot of work, but it was really worth it to be able to be in a room full of a dozen or more playwrights. To quote Sarah Brock, (who wrote an amazing play about 5 medieval women trying to keep their castle after the Lord dies called "Twist in the Rising") "It's good to be in a room full of people who don't think I'm crazy when I say I hear voices in my head."
The picture above is a shot of some of us speaking on the panel (From the left, Jeanne Beckwith, Sarah Brock, Dana Yeaton, Monica Callan, and James Lantz) - taken by a lovely friend of mine who agreed last minute to take the photos while I stood up and jibber jabbered - Thanks Mary Beth!!!
So far this past few days leading up to vacation I've created some lovely sheets on the panel which I hope to post at the vermontplaywrightscircle.org/ site soon - and I've started a short story which is actually a full blown fantasy based on some words from an exercise that the folks in my fiction writing group do once or twice a year. The exercise is called "Short Story in a Week." and is just that. A list of words is generated and everyone has to write a story using those words in the tense they are giving in.
Not sure what I'll call this yet as the ending's not written yet, but here's a sampling of the opening. (typos & all as you're not supposed to edit during this exercise...)
First, the words given: bray, pendulum, elixir, zealot, apse
Now the opening of the story:
"Start here…" the label on the map said. A drunken arrow lead from the word 'here' across the parchment and down the right side of the map to an almost indecipherable phrase – which had clearly been written by the same hand that drew the arrow – "Pendulum Fault." Alara smiled and sat down at her rickety desk to examine the map more closely. The fire crackled in the overlarge fireplace.
There was nothing she liked better then a mystery, and this map was proving to be just that. Shadows danced on the wall in the dim winter afternoon. Her sister huddled by the warmth of the fire in her gray traveling robes, which she hadn't even taken the time to change out of upon her return home. The drunken line ran from the Gerin Mountains far in the north down through the kingdom of Olikuma and finally to the sea. Through the thin cut window of the castle, a weak afternoon light tried to reach the table, to no avail. Alara moved the lamp closer to the map. Her sister had brought the map back from the Gerin Mountain Monastery where she had spent the past three turnings of the years as an initiate. She had procured the map from the Matron of Initiates, what was her name? Matra Inisthulen. That was it. How long had it sat on some dusty shelf waiting to be handed over to Alara's family?
"And this Matra was clear you were to keep the map a secret from Father and Bonin?" Alara looked up at her sister, who seemed to have blended into the gray rock of the fireplace where she huddled on a low stool.
"The Matra said, 'we have awaited you many generations, Child,' as she handed this to me. The monks were all out in the courtyard with Brother and Father. It seemed to me this map was not meant for the eyes of the men in our family." Ri rubbed her hands together to warm them then shrugged at Alara, "I got a sense of it, anyway, when she slammed the drawer shut as the door to her chambers opened. So I shoved it quickly into my robes and left to join Father and Bonin in the courtyard."
"'Start here…,' seems a bit puerile, don't you think?" Alara ran a gloved hand over the map. She had been out Falconing before the royal entourage arrived. The leather glove was thick. She couldn't feel a thing through it. She took it off and repeated the gesture. "Ahha…" She laughed. "Look," She said. She lifted the map and turned toward the shifting firelight. "Here at the center, embedded in the map, look here."
"What? What could possibly be fit inside of a map? It is only parchment isn't it, I – Oh…" Ri had come over to Alara and placed her hand on the map at center. Alara nodded.
"You feel it? See?" Alara stepped forward a bit so that the map came away from Ri's hand. In the firelight, in the faintest of shadows, the firelight illuminated a small wisp of an object. It could have been a hair or two caught and dried in the ink, or the spine of a feather if one did not know what to look for, but both Ri and Alara had seen such objects before.
"Dragon's breath!" Ri whispered.
***OK - That's all you get so far***
Friday, February 29, 2008
Angels and Mothers...
OK - So I'm thinking more and more about my piece "Angel in the Fire" as of late. Below is an excerpt of one scene. Emily is the grandmother, Halle (short for Hallelujah) is the mother. Claire is the daughter. Three generations, two different stories. They are woven together as our memories of life, reactions to moments, and relationships with our mothers and grandmothers most always are. Do they work, evoke something when you read them...?
CLAIRE
The moon blocks out the sun today.
For a brief moment, night at noon.
I am eight.
The cement steps
on our stoop have
a hole beneath them.
Bees dip and fly
silently between my legs,
waiting for me to move.
HALLE
We steered clear of that field
mostly.
The bull hunched like a tank,
afternoons.
The sun was down before I knew it,
the rock getting cold
beneath me.
EMILY
When your sister came home
alone, I wanted time
to deal with her.
First, we got that bull
back in his pen,
then I turned to her,
a good switch from the elm
in my hand.
CLAIRE
You came and picked me up in the dark
And we watched the moon do-si-do with the sun.
HALLE and EMILY
And when I came and picked you up
HALLE
from the stoop,
visions of old apocalyptic stories
fresh on my mind,
ALL THREE TOGETHER
The sound of the bull
In the field across the way
Startled me
HALLE and EMILY//CLAIRE
And I took you inside. //And you took me inside.
CLAIRE
The moon blocks out the sun today.
For a brief moment, night at noon.
I am eight.
The cement steps
on our stoop have
a hole beneath them.
Bees dip and fly
silently between my legs,
waiting for me to move.
HALLE
We steered clear of that field
mostly.
The bull hunched like a tank,
afternoons.
The sun was down before I knew it,
the rock getting cold
beneath me.
EMILY
When your sister came home
alone, I wanted time
to deal with her.
First, we got that bull
back in his pen,
then I turned to her,
a good switch from the elm
in my hand.
CLAIRE
You came and picked me up in the dark
And we watched the moon do-si-do with the sun.
HALLE and EMILY
And when I came and picked you up
HALLE
from the stoop,
visions of old apocalyptic stories
fresh on my mind,
ALL THREE TOGETHER
The sound of the bull
In the field across the way
Startled me
HALLE and EMILY//CLAIRE
And I took you inside. //And you took me inside.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Twenty Days After...
Yes, it sounds like a scarey film! But it's just how long it's been between posts. It's another snowy day today. Spring seems infinitely far away, and this weekend is the VATTA (That's the Vermont Assocation of Theater and Theater Artists to you!) Town Meeting on "Staging Original Works in Vermont." I'll be co-facilitating with Dana Yeaton. There'll be so many cool folks there that you should come too!
WHAT:Theatre Town Meeting
WHEN:Saturday, March 1st from 4:30 – 6:00 pm
WHERE:McCarthy Arts Center, Saint Michael's College, Colchester,Vermont
WHO:The Vermont Association of Theaters and Theater Artists, (VATTA) in conjunction with the Vermont Playwrights Circle
PRICE:$7 Donations at the door*
*Artists participating in VATTA's Statewide Auditions and Networking Event admitted for free.
DETAILS:
Despite tighter financial times, arts organizations in Vermont remain committed to staging original works written by local authors and – more and more – artists are taking production into their own hands. Their can-do attitude, spit and vinegar, and moxie have spawned an innumerable number of original artistic projects over the past few years. What does it take to mount an original production? How much risk does an individual artist or arts organizations take in mounting a piece by an unknown artist rather than staging a classic/known piece? How rewarding is it to see a piece rise to its feet for the first time? Join us for a brief presentation of two short original works by local artists (TBA) followed by a community discussion on the risks and rewards of staging original theater works in Vermont.
The discussion will be co-facilitated by local writers Dana Yeaton of Middlebury College and Kim Ward of The Vermont Playwrights Circle. Speakers will include the following local authors: Jeanne Beckwith, Sarah Dawson Brock, David Budbill, Maura Campbell, Monica Callan, Marisa Krauss, James Lantz, Kim Ward, and Dana Yeaton.
Along with playwrights, several local organizations committed to staging original works in Vermont will be present, including Lost Nation Theater, Moxie Productions, The Parish Players, The Valley Players, The Vermont Playwrights Circle.
For more information, or to RSVP for the Theater Town Meeting
(not required) call: 802-229-0112 or Email VTPCirc@yahoo.com
For information on The 20th Annual Statewide Auditions and Networking Event from 9:30am-3:30pm, please contact Veronica Lopez, VATTA Coordinator at 802-862-2287 or email catalyst@gmavt.net
WHAT:Theatre Town Meeting
WHEN:Saturday, March 1st from 4:30 – 6:00 pm
WHERE:McCarthy Arts Center, Saint Michael's College, Colchester,Vermont
WHO:The Vermont Association of Theaters and Theater Artists, (VATTA) in conjunction with the Vermont Playwrights Circle
PRICE:$7 Donations at the door*
*Artists participating in VATTA's Statewide Auditions and Networking Event admitted for free.
DETAILS:
Despite tighter financial times, arts organizations in Vermont remain committed to staging original works written by local authors and – more and more – artists are taking production into their own hands. Their can-do attitude, spit and vinegar, and moxie have spawned an innumerable number of original artistic projects over the past few years. What does it take to mount an original production? How much risk does an individual artist or arts organizations take in mounting a piece by an unknown artist rather than staging a classic/known piece? How rewarding is it to see a piece rise to its feet for the first time? Join us for a brief presentation of two short original works by local artists (TBA) followed by a community discussion on the risks and rewards of staging original theater works in Vermont.
The discussion will be co-facilitated by local writers Dana Yeaton of Middlebury College and Kim Ward of The Vermont Playwrights Circle. Speakers will include the following local authors: Jeanne Beckwith, Sarah Dawson Brock, David Budbill, Maura Campbell, Monica Callan, Marisa Krauss, James Lantz, Kim Ward, and Dana Yeaton.
Along with playwrights, several local organizations committed to staging original works in Vermont will be present, including Lost Nation Theater, Moxie Productions, The Parish Players, The Valley Players, The Vermont Playwrights Circle.
For more information, or to RSVP for the Theater Town Meeting
(not required) call: 802-229-0112 or Email VTPCirc@yahoo.com
For information on The 20th Annual Statewide Auditions and Networking Event from 9:30am-3:30pm, please contact Veronica Lopez, VATTA Coordinator at 802-862-2287 or email catalyst@gmavt.net
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