DOWNER - MONA DOESN'T LIVE


It takes me a while until getting to the point where I actually make the decision to submit one of my plays and play-ettes. There is the usual self-doubt, is it play-worthy and most of all, does it have entertainment value. When and if I do submit, hope springs eternal that it could make the grade, grade being a theatre recognizes that it has diversionary value . Visions of it actually being performed before an audience who clap in appreciation accompany the "submit" button or the actual act of mailing the ms envelope.

Just came back from checking the Snowdance Festival site in the hope that my name was among the lucky ten playwrights whose plays were accepted. It wasn't.

Inject deep sigh here.

Having not received a notification one way or the other, the only means in which playwrights would know is to continually check their site. That I did - and then some.

The play submitted, "Dusting Mona" was one of my more recent creations and IMHO it's well written. Obviously, not entertaining enough to make the grade.

Inject another deep sigh here.

It was submitted by mail this time since this was their choice and now I'm wondering whether it was ever received. Actually, it's easier to accept that they never received it rather than believe it wasn't good enough. Rejection is part of playwriting or any type of writing but it never gets easier as anyone who is in this milieu will attest. I like to believe that the audience doesn't know what they're missing. Let's just say that Mona and other literary friends are taking a rest.

OLD SOLDIERS - THE RADIO PLAY - a progress report #1

Decided to try and convert my short story, "Old Soldiers" into a radio play and enter it into the BBC International Playwriting Competition. My first realization how difficult a task this is going to be is underestimating the amount of dialogue required. Dialogue as it stands now is limited in its present form and this means a complete re-think as to how I'm going to move this story along. I'm also not sure how to write a radio play. Will spend some time searching the Internet in the hope of discovering the form. Some questions requiring answers that keep me up nights wondering:

- is it written in the same manner as a play?
- do radio plays have scenes?
- where are the sound effects written?

Why am I doing it? Because it's a personal challenge, especially since I've entered the competition before having submitted, "Retribution", which should have won...IMHO. This short story is one of my favorites and I think that it has the potential to be a winner.

There are four characters in the short story but more are required. I'm toying with the idea of adding an old dog given that Joe, my main character, is an old soldier. The dog is Joe's confidant, best friend and reason for living.

Dilemma at present is whether to open the story in Joe's apartment as it is in the story, or open it in a pub. If I open it in the pub it could be a few hours before the ceremonies, whereas the kitchen scene would go before he meets up with his friends in the pub to toast the demise of an army buddy friend.

Also considering the addition of an old (as in age) nosey landlady, who enjoys dropping by Joe's apt. He dislikes her, period, and dislikes her never-ending questions.

We'll see what develops as more dialogue is added. To be continued...

GIMME SPACE
BY ELEANOR TYLBOR

SCENE: A PHARMACY OR ANYWHERE, ACTUALLY. THREE PEOPLE ARE WAITING TO PAY FOR ITEMS AT THE CASH.

CUSTOMER 1
(placing item on counter along with umbrella)
Just going to put this down here... Ooops - didn't mean to crowd anyone

CUSTOMER 2
(directly behind)
No problem. I'll just move my items back a bit to give you some more room

CUSTOMER 1
Don't worry about it. It's only a jar of jam.

CUSTOMER 2
Is it good. I mean, have you had some before?

CUSTOMER 1
Nope. First time. It was on special at nine-nine cents. Mind you, it's only good for 10 more days...
CUSTOMER 2
Do you eat a lot of jam?

CUSTOMER 1
Depends on the day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Depends how jammy I'm feeling.

CUSTOMER 3
(in front of line)
I'm here!

CUSTOMER 1
Sorry?

CUSTOMER 3
I'm here, too.

CUSTOMER 1
I see

CUSTOMER 3
I need room for my things

CUSTOMER 1
O-kay...

CUSTOMER 3
Could you give me some room for my things, please?

CUSTOMER 1 looks at her for a few seconds, down at her items and moves the umbrella and jam away from CUSTOMER 3

CUSTOMER 3
Your umbrella is wet and it's touching my toilet paper!

CUSTOMER 1
That would be as a result of the pouring rain outside

CUSTOMER 3
You're making the counter wet

CUSTOMER 1
O-kay...sorry but the cashier is doing your items and you'll be outta here, soon

CUSTOMER 3
Still, your umbrella takes up a lot of space

CUSTOMER 1
I already removed it off the counter and moved back my jam so it won't touch your items

CUSTOMER 3
But you made the counter all wet

CUSTOMER 1
(putting hand in purse, produces Kleenex and wipes counter)
There! Allll gone!

CUSTOMER 3 grabs bag

CUSTOMER 3
There should be a sign posted telling people they can't put wet umbrellas on the counter!

CUSTOMER 3 storms out of store

CUSTOMER 1
Some people just gotta have their space!

(turns to CUSTOMER 2)

Oh gee - am I dripping water on your feet? I'm so sorry...here let me wipe them...

MAKE ME A WEDDING! - FROM THE BEGINNING


In spite of what appears to be little interest in my playwriting blog updates - insert big sigh here - I'm going to continue anyway. As mentioned, at present I'm tweaking my two full-plays with the intention of submitting...again and again and...

Friday, November 6:

Started reading right from the top, including cast. Little concerned as I was when I wrote it, actually, that there is a cast of 9. Be that as it may, I can't cut back because they all play an important part of the whole.

SCENE 1: Made some minor changes but no major issues. Introduction to characters requires no modifications as I view them. Sadie and Morty, mother and father, definitely have their own personalities, which is good. Bride-to-be, Rachel's entrance and announcement of her engagement and wedding plans, which differ from Sadie's, signals problems to come. All-in-all - so far, so good. To be continued...

A SHINING LIGHT - THE PLAY?

I wrote this a while back as a First Person piece for our local daily. It was one of other pieces focusing on my experience as a student attending after school Hebrew lessons. This was a very pleasant time and experience although it didn't seem like it at the time. In any case, I'm toying with re-writing it as a play perhaps combining it with some of the other pieces. As usual, comments always welcome.


A Shining Light
BY ELEANOR TYLBOR

As a youngster, Christmas was somewhat of a demoralizing time of the year. Since our family was of the Jewish faith, we celebrated the holiday of Chanukah, which didn't seem to me to be half as exciting as the furor that went along with trimming a tree.

On occasion Chanukah fell during the same period as Christmas and somehow I couldn't work up as much enthusiasm for lighting a candle even if it was colored, as my friends seemed to experience placing ornaments on the branches of their trees.

Even though my parents explained time and time again that Jewish people don't celebrate Christmas, which meant that a tree even a miniature one was out of the question, it was difficult for me to accept. In spite of protestations that we could call it a Chanukah bush, it was obvious that there was no way a fir tree would be part of our celebrations.

Traditionally at Chanukah, children receive gifts of gelt or money and light small colored candles in a menorah (candelabra), one per night for the eight days of the holiday. While that was nice, in my mind it didn't measure up to all the excitement connected to the "other" holiday.

At Hebrew school we always celebrated the various holidays, big and small, and Chanukah was a particular favorite especially since our class, being the eldest students, entertained the residents of a seniors home. Each year the teacher would select eight students to sing and perform as Chanukah candles and competition was fierce for the part of lead candle.

Since I wasn't blessed with a good singing voice – I could barely carry a tune – I knew that my chances were slim at best to play any candle, never mind the lead candle. My biggest rival was Zelig, who had the voice and promise of a future opera singer. Not only did he have the best singing voice, he was also the top student scholastically. Plus he was also the teacher's pet. Whenever games were played for prizes during the holidays, Zelig won everything, which didn't exactly ingratiate him with the other students. Actually, we were all jealous and would have liked nothing better than for his voice to change in the middle of a concert.

Class auditions for candle parts were held a few weeks before the onset of the holiday and the best I could hope for was a minor part and even then, only if the rest of the students had an off day or laryngitis. Each student auditioned for the teacher and as expected, Zelig got the lead role, which irritated me no end.

My resentment was eased somewhat by being assigned the role of a minor candle, probably out of pity more than anything else. Those students not chosen became part of the chorus singing "tra-la-las" at the appropriate time.

Excitement was at a fever pitch when we arrived at the seniors' home, ready to perform for a live audience who were, for the most part, in wheelchairs. They were brought into the auditorium where we were lined up on stage, anxious to perform.

Glancing around the room, many of the seniors appeared half asleep.

"You will be entertained today!" their nurses might have insisted as they wheeled them into the room.

The first students opened the concert and sang well and those who followed performed admirably. Finally, it was my turn. My voice didn't fail me and I felt very proud of my accomplishment.

Zelig opened his mouth and it was like a chorus of angels had entered the room. His voice was strong and melodic and suddenly the seniors perked up, smiles on their faces in obvious appreciation of what they heard. When the last notes of his solo faded away, they all clapped appreciatively.

The musical recital was over and we performed a variety of Israeli dances, moving off the stage to mingle among our audience. Although Israeli dancing was a passion, I was consumed with the memory of the applause and accolades bestowed upon Zelig.

After our presentation and some refreshments, an elderly woman wheeled over to talk to me. She smiled, her trembling hand gently covering mine.

"Thank you," she uttered weakly and breathlessly. "You were all wonderful. How special you are to visit us!"

There was the sudden realization that it wasn't important who the lead candle was or who had the best voice. It was significant to our audience that we had taken the time to come at all.

It wasn't long after our successful performance that Zelig's voice finally broke and he never knew whether he would sing soprano or alto. Tough luck for him. My voice on the other hand, never changed and could always be depended on to sing off-key

BACK IN THE PLAYWRITING SADDLE AGAIN

It appears that once bitten by the playwriting bug, it's an itch that no amount of scratching can quell. What I'm trying to express in my loquacious fashion is that I've decided to submit my plays, again. Not that I didn't before but there has been a noticeable gap that has nagged at my conscience.

I've already taken steps to move things along and submitted one of my short plays in a competition. Don't want to talk/write about it because like many people of our ilk, I'm superstitious, but it's one of my more recent attempts. Additionally, I'm going to enter the BBC International Playwriting Competition if I can convert one of my stories into a radio play. I've got a good half-year to do it but it's still a difficult task.

I've also decided to edit (again!)my full two-act plays and make a real push and effort to get them produced. Not that I didn't before but not to the degree I should have because I feared and still fear rejection. The plays, actually I'm focusing on one in particular, "Make Me a Wedding!" a comedy and the first play I wrote, requires a thorough going-over to see if it still makes me laugh as it did in the past. More importantly, though, looking at it through the eyes of outsiders and evaluating whether it will make them laugh.

In addition, I will post regular updates in this blog and share my findings along with pieces of dialogue for feedback if anyone feels like jumping in. Feel free to do so and it would be much appreciated.

Meanwhile, Morty and Saydie are calling me to help out in the planning of the wedding. As if I'd refuse.