Why write a play? Good question

As mentioned in my previous post in which I shared the very embryonic beginnings of my new play, it's been a while since I embarked upon a completely new project. This particular subject is a departure from previous main-stream play topics and has caught my imagination so for this reason alone, there's hope that it will evolve into a full and more importantly, finished, play. Frequently - all too frequently - things will move along at a rapid pace only to slow down at the quarter or half-way point, followed by a complete lack of progress. Why? Who knows. Anyway...

Write, kvetch and complain - it's a constant.

This is all leading to some thoughts about play writing. It occurred to me while writing my newest play and digging deep in the psyche of my characters, one of which is a spider, that perhaps it's pointless to turn out new plays, when existing plays are waiting to be shared with the world.  Speculating further, perhaps:

a.   the plays aren't well written, or...
b.   the subjects don't match the interest of the general public, or...
c.   the story line is boring, or...
d.  the theatre producers are sticking to well-known and proven playwrights and/or plays that are bank-able, financially.

One would hazard a guess that d. plays a big part in the final decision.

Actually, doing a count, I've written four full two-act plays, which have been edited to death over the years in hope that each re-write will make the difference between acceptance and rejection, one one-act play that at least has had a play reading, plus a number of short plays. Even if a play is fantastic, the competition "out there" in the playwriting world is significant, hence the rationale behind the contemplation and introspection bit. As any writer, playwright and anybody who writes will attest, once a writer - always a writer. There may be periods of self-doubt in which one questions the rationale behind choosing this craft...correction: you don't choose to be a writer/playwright/whatever. You just are because you have to be.

In one of his blogs in "The Producer's Perspective" Broadway producer, Ken Davenport, a Tony winner who knows the ins-and-outs of getting produced, offers playwrights five tips on how to get a producer to read a play. You can read his suggestions here: https://www.theproducersperspective.com/my_weblog/2009/02/how-to-get-a-producer-to-read-your-script.html. I've picked up some great advice and tips and recommend it.

Meanwhile, it's back to spide-y and the lady, who are waiting for the word. Hey - isn't this what it's all about in the end?

https://www.theproducersperspective.com/first-time-on-the-blog-start-here

Pigeon feed - the story continues

JULIE

"D'ya mind if I share this bench with you? If it's a problem I can sit at one end and you can sit at the other. We don't have to talk to each other. Some people are weird about speaking to strangers but not me. Uh-uh! I enjoy the give and taking of sharing ideas with new people. Are you a people-person?"


A while back, maybe ten years or so, came across a site that was calling for submissions to a video competition. Having recently completed a new short play, it seemed like a perfect vehicle for the competition in spite of being written in playwriting form. After a short communication with the producer/director, he told me to send it along anyway and he'd give it a look over. The long and the short of it as they say is that even though it wasn't the winner, it achieved a second honorable place, plus it had the distinction of being converted into a short film script.

The plot always intrigued me and over time and frequent read-throughs, it always struck me that there was more to the story then was told. I'm a big believer in timing and what was deemed a finished play can suddenly take on new possibilities when viewed in a new light. Such is the case with "For the Birds."

A comedy/drama, the story focuses on the accidental meeting of two lonely souls whose encounter in a park turns out to be an eye-opener, in more ways than one. At present, the two main characters are getting to know each other with overtures of friendship being more one-sided. How and why this "shorty" play has suddenly taken on a new life is a mystery but as mentioned, timing is everything in life.

Role playing - the characters speak

And so, the playwright, after many (many) re-writes of her play, ponders the next move assisted by the play characters who have a big invested interest in her decision.

SCENE:    Writing desk with computer set-up. Large coffee mug nearby

AT RISE:  Playwright sits in front of computer staring at screen,  evaluating if/and or what changes are required to play


PLAYWRIGHT
I dunno. Somehow, something doesn't feel right... Maybe I should just delete this play altogether

FEMALE CHARACTER 1
Say what? You've been re-working this play for how many years and now you want to erase all traces of us as if we never existed? What did we ever do to you?

PLAYWRIGHT
That's the thing. You haven't done anything to me or for me

FEMALE CHARACTER 1
And that's our fault? Let's not forget who created us in the first place

MALE CHARACTER
May I interject?

FEMALE CHARACTER 1
It's never stopped you before. Go for it

MALE CHARACTER
Seems to me that she hasn't really created a viable outline, which could offer a direction to follow. We all need guidance, a path that will lead us to enlightenment

FEMALE CHARACTER 1
Oh do tell. And what, if anything, have you contributed in helping her along, other than your bon mots and trite writing quotations

MALE CHARACTER
Officially, I don't exist having been eliminated in the last edit but hope springs eternal that I shall be resurrected in a future story line. After all, I am the only male character and the romantic lead

FEMALE CHARACTER 1
Don't be so sure. Given the amount of times the story line has changed, you could just as easily be converted into a female role

MALE CHARACTER
Actually...thinking back...two months ago I assumed the role of Prince

FEMALE CHARACTER
A prince? I don't remember any plot involving royal characters

MALE CHARACTER
Nothing so regal. Prince was a blood hound in her attempt at writing a dinner murder mystery...

PLAYWRIGHT
...which ended up going nowhere. Maybe this just isn't going to work. Maybe...I should forget about this play, altogether.

FEMALE CHARACTER
Don't be so quick to give up!

FEMALE CHARACTER 2
Absolutely! You're on to something! This re-write will be the one. Hang in there

PLAYWRIGHT
It seems that I'm in a constant state of re-writes. Sometimes you have to see the writing on the wall and call it a day

MALE CHARACTER
Have you sent out the latest version of the play to theatres?

PLAYWRIGHT
Yup. Never heard back, as usual. It's getting to the point where I'm questioning whether I have any ability in writing plays. Perhaps it's just hopeful dreaming. Why go on in the face of reality that the odds of my play being produced are probably a gazillion to one, given the number of playwrights who are doing the exact same thing

FEMALE CHARACTER 1
Don't forget that one of your plays did have a reading. That means something

PLAYWRIGHT
But it's still not the same as a full production in a theatre with an audience.

MALE CHARACTER
You're not serious about - you know - that ominous delete button...it was merely a momentary feeling of weakness. Right? You wouldn't do that to us.

FEMALE CHARACTER 1
We're here for you! Hang in there! Our future depends on it, in the true sense of the word

PLAYWRIGHT
Could I abandon you all after all these years, members of my literary family?

MALE CHARACTER
Far be it for me to ask a favor at this point but would you, perhaps, consider re--writing the Prince character? I mean, if it's possible. Barks, growls and tail wagging aren't among my best traits.

PLAYWRIGHT
Thing is...this play really has possibilities. It has all the essential elements that make it entertaining. Maybe a few changes and edits here and there before sending it out to make its way in the theatre world. Right?

ALL PLAY CHARACTERS:
We're with you all the way, girl!

PLAYWRIGHT
Maybe just this one more theatre...or two...three at the most

Decisions...decisions...and hope for a brighter future

Once again as has been the case on too many occasions, a rejection slip slipped in my email 'in' box. Somehow, in spite of nice, genteel words of apology by the theatre or whoever is in charge of the rejection notices, it doesn't get easier.

Really, given my former position as a freelance newspaper columnist/writer for many years, rejection slips aren't an unusual occurrence, but receiving playwriting-related rejections is a downer.

This time the recipient of the rebuff was one of my favorite short plays, "The Lemon." A short comedy, it focuses on the trials and tribulations of a woman attempting to contact a towing company in order to get her car removed, while trying to convince a public phone user to make the call.  In spite of the usual assurances that the theatre will keep the play for possible future use, it was a disheartening notice. Dejection, as any writer will attest, never gets easier.

Looking back, none of my plays have yet to be produced in spite of witty dialogue, interesting plots and good spelling and punctuation. Look - gotta look for positive points where I can find them! Had high hopes for "The Shrubs", which didn't materialize and my short plays came back home without a successful showing.

Today while skimming through potential submission opportunities, came across a notification that the deadline for the BBC International Radio Playwriting Competition is coming up at the end of January 2016. In the past on two occasions, attempts to convert a play and a short story into radio format met with rejection. I'm toying with the idea - that's as far as it's progressed - of trying to convert "The Lemon" into a radio play. Given the fast approaching deadline, starting a new play isn't practical and it would be a personal challenge to see what can be accomplished in a month. Who knows...

Meanwhile, old soldier Joe McKenna and his vet pals are still meeting at the neighborhood bar, waiting for a new direction from the playwright. This play keeps calling me back in spite of self-declarations to let it die in peace. But it won't. There is something about the characters and the story line that is compelling and begging to be told.

"We ain't gettin' any younger," they all keep reminding me.

Neither are any of us, guys. Neither are any of us...

Waiting and waiting.... Been there, experienced that, etc.

Hate to see a straight line indicating nobody has dropped by my playwriting blog, as is the case presently. Actually, this is applicable to all my blogs. As writers, the purpose of sharing our thoughts via a blog is to reach the public in the hope that something we have written will strike their fancy, or like the contents enough to read it to the end. A straight line means nobody finds the blog worthwhile enough to drop by. Don't like straight lines but it goes as it goes. You win some - you lose some. Anyway...

It's Friday night and I'm watching "Shark Tank", one of my favorite TV programs, while adding content to this blog. Right now all the sharks are in a bidding war for a food product with offers of $100,000 to sweeten the deal. This makes one - me - wonder how much a play is worth. It would be dependent upon whether or not its produced and how favorably the public reacts in money values. But I digress.

Me? I'm still sending out my plays and short play-ettes here, there and everywhere hoping to hit pay-dirt. Wish I could report some progress but alas and alack, it's still a waiting game. Have to confess that I've been hesitant to enter my ten-minute plays in competitions where a submission fee is required - reading fee as it is frequently called - with no financial compensation offered upon acceptance and performance. It's nice to think that our time writing the play, be it a short one, is worth a token payment. Any feedback on this?

Came across a theatre recently that was holding a competition for full 2-act plays but only snail-mail-in submissions were acceptable. There is a part of me that understands their rationale since having to print up potentially usable plays costs money and most theatres are short of funds these days. If this is the case and at least in my mind, it would be easier to read plays submitted electronically and delete those that are unsuitable, no? On a personal note my plays have been edited so many times that printing each updated copy would cost a fortune, and then there's the postage...

Amazing how easy it is to come up with complaints about how unfair the system is. I mean, who else you gonna blame? Oneself? Neh...

Right now two males have entered the shark tank with a product that they feel is worth a million dollars and there's a bidding war with all the sharks involved. maybe Mr. Wonderful, Damond, Mark, Lori, Barbara or Robert might want to produce some really great plays.

Upon reflection

In his playwriting blog, "The Producer's Perspective," Broadway producer, Ken Davenport, shared his thoughts and dispensed some advice to aspiring playwrights. In particular his contention that "new-er" playwrights over-write their plays.

This caught my attention and got me thinking about my own plays and whether they are over-written. Perhaps (speculation number gazillion) this could be yet another reason and rationalization why my plays have yet to see a stage.

As Ken shared in the blog, not merely long but too 'wordy' (my interpretation). Seems that we playwrights over-write to ensure the audience grasp our concept.

The problem from my perspective is that it's difficult to know how much is too much.  I've strived to keep physical direction to a minimum and to focus upon the dialogue and more importantly, the story line. So if indeed I'm guilty of over-writing, it's difficult to ascertain if and where the edits should be made, having edited various parts incessantly over time.

Contributed my two-cents-worth to the blog topic in the form of a comment: "frequently, we never hear back again as to whether a play is over-written or whatever else is wrong." As I've often bemoaned and shared in this blog that the submission process more often than not results in never hearing anything back, period.

On one occasion, to a particular theatre's credit and part of its commitment to playwrights, a personal submission resulted in a complete analysis of the strengths and weaknesses of the play, including suggestions as to changes that would strengthen its overall quality. How refreshing.

In the end, it's a waiting game dependent upon hope - thank goodness for hope - that someone, somewhere, will see the potential in our work. One never knows.

Meanwhile, here's the coordinates to sign up for Ken Davenport's blog: https://www.theproducersperspective.com/welcome-to-the-producers-perspective-forum He makes for some interesting views and points.

Hello? Same old, same old...

Nothing really new to report but for anybody keeping up with the score so far - zero-zero - for the playwright.

Really (she wrote emphasizing the really) made a concerted effort to submit my literary gems (at least in my eyes they are) to various theatres and related opportunities. Received a response from perhaps one with the usual form letter: "Dear Playwright." At least an effort could have been made to address our kind by our given name. I mean, if I'm going to be given bad news, at least relate it personally to me. Don't you think?

Where was I now...oh yeah. 'Dear Playwright, given the huge response to our call for submissions, unfortunately your play will not be among this year's productions.' There is more blah-blah but in the end - who cares. Right? Guess I should be happy that at least I received a response, be it a negative one.

Once the brain acknowledges a rejection, the questions and doubts start popping up like:

- maybe I shouldn't have done re-write # 7,500
- maybe I'm deluding myself into believing I can write plays
- maybe I should adapt my title to "writer-of-plays-that-are-waiting-for-production"
- maybe I'm living in the wrong country
- maybe I'm using the wrong font - that has to be it. Right?
- what happens if I run out of theatres in which to submit?
- what happens if I'm submitting to the same theatres having forgotten to note the lucky recipients?

And so they continue, those insidious doubts that show up in the quiet of the night, filling the mind of the writer-of-plays-that-are-waiting-for- production with doubt and bewilderment. Know what I mean?

A taste of "ACORN FARM"

A small sampling from a play written as a joint project, which started out as an add-to-the-story writing exercise with bits and pieces added over time. Like most of my plays, it's a comedy but with dramatic overtones.  Listed only the three main characters in this snippet.

 

By Eleanor Tylbor

and

Jeff Slater

 

CAST OF CHARACTERS

 

BESS MALONE, 50’s, Widow

LEANN WALKER, 17, spoiled niece of Bess

WAYNE SMITH, 60’s, physically-disabled old grouch and owner of dilapidated cabin in the woods

 

THE TIME

The present. Autumn

AT RISE
Bess's arms are filled with kitchen equipment while Leann holds a cell phone extended in the air, in an attempt to get a signal.



 

BESS

(stopping to glance at LEANN)

Don’t offer to help or anything. Of course it’s totally understandable. Strain your arms and you won’t be able to iron your hair or whatever you do with it

LEANN

My cell phone’s not working and I forgot to bring a charger. D’ya have one I can borrow?

BESS

Of course! Doesn’t everyone carry a spare phone charger.  Just a minute – I’ll check my purse…

 

LEANN

Good ‘cause I promised Jeremy I’d call him as soon as we arrived. How much longer ‘til we get to where we’re supposed to be? I’m getting hungry

BESS

Forget about touching base with your Jeremy. You’re far, far away from civilization and there’s not a hope that your cell phone will work here, anyway

LEANN

I’m sure they’ll be some kind of phone connection at the place we’re staying. Can’t wait to take a hot shower and get out of these grungy clothes. Hey – maybe there’ll be a Jacuzzi, or even an indoor pool

 

                        BESS drops the pots and pans at the front door of the cabin

BESS

In these parts? ‘Ya gotta be kidding! Where do you think we’ll be staying? At a five-star hotel?

LEANN

Wha’cha do that for? I mean, let’s get back in the car and get there already
 

BESS

We’re – here – or there

LEANN

(looking around, panic-stricken)

Tell me this isn’t the place. It’s a joke, right? To teach me a lesson? Of course it is. Nobody in their right mind would stay... here. C’mon – it’s getting dark already and I could fall and break a heel on my new shoes

BESS

Be it ever so humble, kiddo!

LEANN

You-you can’t expect someone like…me to stay…in a place like... that. I’ll catch a fatal disease or something

BESS

You wanna knock on the front door or should I?

LEANN

There’s has’ta be a hotel around here. I’ll even stay in a bed-and-breakfast. Maybe if we go back on the main road…

BESS

I didn’t see any buildings for miles around driving up here Look at it this way: it’ll build character and heaven knows you need some of that.

                        BESS searches the door frame for a doorbell and then knocks

(cont'd) Hello?

                        Moves back and examines the house from all angles

(cont'd) A palace it ain’t

LEANN

Nobody’s home. Let’s turn around and call whoever from a hotel

                        LEANN turns around and starts walking

BESS

We’re not going anywhere, unless you feel like hiking through the woods alone in the dark with all those bears and mountain lions out there, not to mention snakes

LEANN

You're just saying that to scare me, aren't you? Y'know...I could borrow your car and go get help.

BESS

Over my dead body you will! I promised your parents that you’re spending the summer with me and that’s exactly what you’re going to do

LEANN

They’re punishing me for dating Jeremy! Think they can keep us apart but they’re wrong. One phone call from me and he’ll rush up here and take me away from all of…this. You’ll see

BESS

Face it, sweetie – there isn’t a cabin or means of communicating with lover boy for miles and miles. From what your parents told me, he drives an old motorcycle and that sure won’t make it up here

LEANN

(starting to cry)

Why are you doing this to me? I’m not the type that can survive without my cell and friends and…

BESS

Believe me, by the time this is over, you’ll thank me for the experience

                        BESS knocks on the door again

(Cont.d) Why doesn’t he answer? Wha’cha gonna live on, anyway? Love? Baby girl – love don’t pay the rent or buy groceries or pay your cell phone bill. I understand that Jeremy doesn’t have a pot to piss in

LEANN

He has job prospects. Last week he had an interview with a company to demonstrate toys in a shopping mall

BESS

(banging on the door)

Real career move that is. Maybe you can join him and the two of you can spend your lives window shopping. Where the heck is Wayne? Hel-lo? How old are you now, anyway?

LEANN

Seventeen next month and we won’t have to worry ‘bout money ‘cause I’ll be bringing in money too

BESS

You? Work? Wha’cha gonna do? Be a nail polish tester? Look – I haven’t got the patience to fight with you. I’m too tired and getting more frustrated by the minute. ‘Hello! Wayne!’

LEANN

Let’s go back, then.  Maybe…maybe the person who lives here went away. I mean, what human being could stay in a dump like this?

BESS

I understand he’s in a wheelchair so he’s gotta be inside. Not the friendly type either, his son told me so we’ll just have to figure another way to get in Maybe…

                        Lifts a mat in front of the door and picks up key

Why would anyone hide the key to get in here? I can imagine what it’s like on the inside

                        Opens door

As bad in the inside as it is on the outside…worse

LEANN

Eeee-uuuu! Tell me we’re not sleeping here

BESS

Well sweetness and light, unless there’s a tent tucked away in that designer suitcase of yours, this is home for a while

LEANN

Like…you gotta be joking! There’s no way. I’m calling my parents to come pick me up

BESS

First of all, your parents are on a cruise ship. Second, before they left, your mom and dad insisted that I take you with me to experience real life, so I doubt they’d even spring for bus fare, let alone come rescue you. Might as well give up on getting in touch with the outside world for a while

LEANN

Where I live, they would condemn a place like this. Gross!

BESS

Where you live, maxing your credit card is considered a hardship

LEANN

I figured this was a shelter for people who get lost in a storm or something

BESS

Surprise! A real live person lives here. Go grab that box with the kitchen stuff

LEANN

Darn! I broke a nail and I just had a French manicure yesterday. D’ya have an emery board? I can’t do anything unless I file down this nail. The last thing I need is jagged edges

BESS

Oh no! We wouldn’t want that! Hold on a minute while I look through my suitcases here. Shoot! Must’a left it back on my manicure table A nail file no less… Now move it, girl!

                        She looks around the room. Dirty dishes cover the surface of the table;

                        clothes litter the floor and a torn curtain hangs from a broken rod and
                        blackened pots and pans sit on top of the stove

Filth! Absolute filth

                                                                                                SFX: person coughing
 

WAYNE
(V/O)
 

Whoever you are, don’t even twitch or blink an eye. I got a shotgun pointed directly at your heart so’s you might as well start sayin’ your prayers now

BESS

(piling dishes one on top of the other, responding to WAYNE)

And you must be Wayne? Geez – when was the last time you washed these? There’s over an inch of mold growing all over them

WAYNE

                        At entrance of room in front of open door in a wheelchair with oxygen tank

                        Attached

I’m warning ‘ya – I’m a crack shot

BESS

Of course you are and I’m Martha Stewart, here to remodel your home. Not a good idea to use a gun ‘specially since you’re dragging oxygen around with you

                        WAYNE slowly wheels himself into the room, one hand on wheelchair

                        control lever and the other holds the shotgun supported under his armpit

WAYNE

You think I don’t know how to use this don’cha, woman? Lemme tell you something lady, this here baby (taps rifle) has seen lots of action over the years. Bagged me plenty of deer in my day and a couple of bears. If you don’t believe me, look up at the wall over there

                        Glances up at wall displaying mounted bear and dear heads – looks away

BESS

Disgusting! Shooting defenceless creatures that can’t fight back

WAYNE

It was either them or me. I was defending myself

BESS

I bet. That deer looks really vicious. Threatened to nibble your hand, right? If I’m gonna stay here, it’ll all hav’ta go, along with a lot of other crap you’ve accumulated

WAYNE

Over my dead body!

BESS

The way you look pal that could be sooner than you think. Go back to the other room and let me do my thing

WAYNE

Just who the hell are you, lady, paradin’ yourself in here like you own my place? You answer my ad for a wife? If ‘ya did, you ain't what I had in mind. Lift your skirt and lemme see your legs…

BESS

Not. Whad’ya think I am? A horse? No – don’t answer that. I don’t know much about guns and don’t take this the wrong way, but one twitch of your trigger finger and your foot is history. God knows you have enough problems without adding missing toes to the list

WAYNE

You’re here to rob me, ain’cha? Heard ‘bout your type. Come on to me all sweet like and then you’ll knock me out and steal everything I own after having your way with me…

BESS

…which adds up to a fat zero. For your information, your son hired me as a housekeeper, so we’d better learn to co-exist with each other. Believe me, if I didn’t need some extra cash… In fact, I’m gonna get in touch with him and ask for more money, especially since it means living here with the likes of you

 

WAYNE
(coughing and choking)

Sure. My money-grabbing kid gets word through the grapevine that I’m an helpless old man in a wheelchair and he sees dollar signs floatin’ in front of his eyes! Damn kids – bring ‘em up to be God-fearin’ Americans and then they try to knock you off... Where are my cigarettes...

BESS

You think that your children want to inherit…this? You’re a joke, Wayne! There is no way you're going smoke in my presence so you can forget about your cancer sticks. What else? You can barely talk from coughing, not to mention carrying around an oxygen tank

WAYNE

We'll see about that. Go back and tell my sonny boy, I don’t need nobody’s help and that includes yours. Tell him…I ain’t ready to kick the bucket, yet! Get out’ta here. GET OUT – and take your helper with you. I don't need no old battle-axe tellin' me how t'live my life. And don't come back. Hear?



 

 

Still waiting for the word - what does it all mean, she who pens plays ponders petulantly..

As mentioned on numerous occasions in this blog, patience isn't one of my strong points. This usually doesn't work in my favor especially when it comes to waiting for updates/news regarding the fate of my plays. Many of them took cyber trips to numerous geographical locations around the globe in the hope that they would see a stage but so far, no response one way or the other.

According to the various playwriting related sites where this topic is discussed and digested, this is not a good sign but perhaps no definitive decision has been made as to their stage-a-bility. At least that's what I tell myself.

There is a pattern as to my follow up process, which includes avowing to myself that I will wait to receive "the word."

"Gotta give it time," I tell myself. "People don't respond because you want them to. Your plays are among hundreds, maybe thousands, that are submitted with dreams of production."

Patience today, patience tomorrow, inevitably, and when experiencing a particularly discouraging "why do I bother" or "maybe my plays suck" period, a follow-up e-mail is sent out. Usually, the end result is no response followed by a period of "why didn't I wait."

Upon reflection, perhaps a follow-up questionnaire to the submitted theatres would facilitate the process. Something to the effect:

Dear blah-blah (insert theatre name/producer/to whom it may concern),

Recently, (insert date that play was submitted), you were the lucky recipient of my play, blah-blah (insert name of play).

It has been (number of days/weeks/months/years/who remembers) since there has been any updates as to whether said play strikes your fancy. Perhaps the lack of communication on your part is a result of (pick one) a) stunning  and dazzling dialogue requiring further thought b) seeking a period of time in which to program the play to optimize audience participation c) don't recall reading the play you mention  d) unable to open file.

When could a decision on its fate one way or the other be expected: a) days b) months c)years d) never (please circle one)

Yours forever in hope,

A. Playwright

It's worth a shot. Am I right?

Wishing...and hoping...and thinking...and praying...

Somehow - perhaps it's the arrival of Spring and all that it promises - one anticipates updates as to the fate of one's (mine of course) literary send-outs. More specifically and to put it in simply and succinctly ('that's a lot of sss's, Eleanor'), will any of my plays see a stage this year.

Throughout the year minor dialogue changes were made, a few lines were eliminated or added, but for the most part they were sent on their way based on the strength of the story line and characters, to seek their fate. Waiting to receive news about one's plays is comparable, at least for me, to sending your children out to seek their fortune in the jungle of life (feeling very philosophical today) for their own good, if not for the caregiver's good. So they're all "out there" and the wait for any updates is all-consuming leading one left wondering and hypothesizing what's happening at the 'other end', so to speak.

"How many more plays are left to be read?" a literary manager might ask a theatre producer and play readers while assessing the amount of plays still waiting to be read  "Seems like there are thousands still to go."

"We have to narrow it down to just a few promising plays at this point," the/a literary manager will/could/might declare, while checking her/his cell for updates. "Time is marching on and we have to choose some potential money-makers for the coming season."

"I've come across a promising production," one of the readers could/should suggest, "although the playwright doesn't have any track record. The play itself, though, is really a good read."

"Nothing produced, anywhere, in the whole wide world?" the producer would ask of the reader.

"Not according to her biography and CV but really - she's a good writer and this play is and an entertaining read  - really funny!" the reader would affirm.

"Could be problematic if she hasn't got a recognizable name that could sell tickets," the literary manager and/or producer would put forward.

"But... it's a really good play," the reader would insist. "Why not give her a chance? What do we have to lose?"

"Not bankable," the literary manager and/or producer would answer, somewhat sadly (one would hope). "File away for future considerations."

Pure speculation on my part but one has to do something waiting for "the word". Then again, depending on what the word is, perhaps ignorance is bliss.

Notes: in submission

Thought I'd share some thoughts about submission - of the literary type. As is the case with most playwrights, I'm continually searching the web for possible good fits for my literary babies. They really are like babies given the attention, work and copious amounts of love that go into their creation. As is the case with offspring who reach maturity, there is a point where one has to part with them for their own good - and mine.

Progress has been achieved in the submission process including a rejection letter accompanied by a wonderful critique and evaluation of the submitted play. Theatres that are open to unsolicited submissions must be the recipients of thousands of plays and understandably, responding to playwrights individually isn't practical. It's commendable, therefore, when a theatre takes the time to not only respond to a play submission but actually take the time in writing to point out the plays strengths and weaknesses and make suggestions as to changes that would strengthen the overall story line. Let's say that it was one of the nicest rejections received to date.

Some of my other plays were sent packing to try their luck and as yet there has been no response. As if the playwriting process isn't difficult enough, the waiting period to hear back one way or the other is equally if not more stressful. Frequently, there is no response, which in itself is an indication of their fate.

I'm now taking precautions to e-mail my plays to myself before sending them out to ensure that it is in a readable format for the recipients. This move came about after encountering a problem submitting a play electronically when converting one of the older files to the latest version. Checking to ensure the play was successfully sent, somehow the text ended up in the wrong visual format. After a period of ranting and raving and some hair pulling, literally and figuratively, I decided to re-send in spite of a nagging, internal voice telling me to hold off for a bit. Re-sent it, anyway, accompanied by a two-sentence explanation only to discover the next day upon re-examination that the text somehow had adjusted itself and was visually perfect. Also re-confirmed my belief to always heed that inner voice.

While waiting for news, I'm continuing working on "Dead Writes", a fantasy with some comedic tones combined with interesting moral messages and dilemmas for the characters. Definitely a challenge but one worth meeting. Then again, the act of writing plays is always a challenge, no matter what. Just thinking and for what it's worth, playwriting is akin to a brain operation whereby stored thoughts, images and memories are stripped from their resting place and laid bare for examination and narration.

When asked the question of  how long it takes to complete a play, I quote the line expressed by Edward Albee: "People often ask me how long it takes me to write a play, and I tell them 'all my life." And then some. 

Snippet from Dead Writes - revised

Started writing this play a while back and have been slowly - accent on the slowly - adding-to and tweaking the play over time. Recently gave it yet another read and after deep thought and concentration, have finally come to what I believe and hope to be, a good ending. Still not finished, yet, but I've been making progress, which in itself is a good omen. Sometimes omens are all we have to propel us along.

I've shared bits and pieces of it here before but here is the latest incarnation. The cast list will most likely grow slightly. I've adapted it for this blog but the cutting and pasting isn't ideal. As usual, comments welcome.

The story: Sometimes lessons in life come at a cost especially when the cost involves sacrifice on behalf of another.

DEAD WRITES

By Eleanor Tylbor

 

CAST OF CHARACTERS

 

CHARLOTTE PEMBROOK:         50-something; former reporter, deceased

JOSIAH:                 Heavenly "Spiritual Adviser - Disembodied Souls Division:

MIA STEVENSON:          Ambitious young reporter

 

THE TIME  

                        

PRESENT DAY, MORNING

 

THE PLACE

Anywhere

SETTING:   A funeral parlor

 

AT RISE:   A group of people are seated in a funeral chapel, socializing for the most part, while waiting for the service to begin. A coffin is situated on an elevated stand in the middle of the room.

 

CHARLOTTE PEMBROOK, wearing a diaphanous flowing dress sits on a bench - eyes closed - to the side of the coffin. Gaining consciousness, she sits up, looks around in a confused slightly-stunned state. Touching her arms, legs and body parts, she stands up and pulls at the material of her dress

 

                                  FX: SOMBER MUSIC

 

CHARLOTTE

Really must'a tied one on last night. Weird....no hang-over like usual.

 

Stands upright, moves closer to coffin, straining to see inside. A funeral organizer passes by without acknowledging her presence. She pokes him in the back, to no avail.

'Scuse me…hello'? Could you tell me…? Hello! Wait a minute, sir. Don't ignore me. You are so rude!’

He focuses his attention on the coffin

 
Lemme be blunt like the real me: who's the corpse?
 

         Man continues to ignore her

What is your problem? A name - that's all I want! It's not a lot to ask.  Fine. Suit yourself. I'll find out on my own…creep!

          

A man, JOSIAH, enters and stands directly behind CHARLOTTE. Dressed entirely in white, he glitters from head to toe including hair and skin

JOSIAH

May I? No need to yell. I can provide you with that information

 

          Startled, she whirls around to face him

 

CHARLOTTE

You could give  person a heart attack sneaking up like that. And I thought I looked bad in this outfit? If you don't mind me saying, sir, you look like a bad case of indigestion after eating too many Halloween candies. I've been trying to find out what's going on but the guy over there is ignoring me. Some people don't have any manners

 

JOSIAH

He can't hear you

 

CHARLOTTE

It’s not like me not to remember some details of the night before but my mind is a complete blank. Not even a few flashes. Nothing

JOSIAH

Not surprising

 

CHARLOTTE

I get it now! This place is one of those new theme clubs and you're the bartender, right? Explains a lot especially the look. So – like - you doing Liberace? That would explain my dress, too. Wouldn't be caught dead wearing this. Go figure a funeral parlor would double as a club. So where’s the booze?

 

JOSIAH

The one thing I can assure you is that this is not a nightclub. You know…if you really want, I could tell you who's in that coffin

 

CHARLOTTE

What’s wrong with me? Here's me going on about nothing and you're burying someone who means a lot to you. That’s it, isn’t it? Sometimes I'm so dense. My deepest sympathies. Hard to lose a loved one. Last year my cat, Annabelle passed on to that great kitty litter box in the sky

JOSIAH

You could say I’m related to that dead person. In fact - I'm close with most people that pass through

 

CHARLOTTE

You work here, then?

 

JOSIAH

In a way. Death is the human equalizer, don't you think? Everyone is on an equal plane no matter how important your life was or how much money you had or how much power you wielded

 

CHARLOTTE

I suppose so - can't say I've given it much thought, lately. You wouldn’t happen to know how I ended up here, though, would you? Did somebody drop me off or did I come here on my own...mind you, can't imagine why I'd want to hang out at a funeral parlor. Lots of empty chairs

 

JOSIAH

Do these mourners strike a familiar chord?

CHARLOTTE glances at the mourners

 

Vaguely familiar...I think... Hang on a minute!  These people work with me!

 

(Aside to mourners): ‘Hey guys - who's watching the store! We got a deadline! This is a surprise party, right? It's all a big joke. I should have known. Whose birthday is it? 'Ya don't hafta worry 'bout me giving it away!  Hello? People? I’m talking to you all!’

 

Weird. They're all ignoring me like I wasn’t here or something. Dumb…dumb…dumb. Ignorance, thy name is Charlotte! This is a "for real " funeral. That has'ta be it and this here is a real body in a real coffin! Okay –so – then - why am I here? Must be somebody I knew…

She strains to see in the coffin again without results

CHARLOTTE

You seem to know a lot about this person. Was it Don McGrath or Pete Winston? Don't know how many times I warned them both to slow down, but did they listen? ‘Course not! What does an old broad like me know, right? Burn the candle at both ends and you’re gonna burn your light out, I told them time and time again. Everyone thinks they’re gonna live forever

JOSIAH

How right you are. It wasn't either one of them

 

CHARLOTTE

That's a relief 'cause we're the last three old farts left at The Sentinal. Started out together at the same time and we've seen 'em come and we seen 'em leave. Some on to bigger and better and some like this here person, in a wooden box. Things are sure different now. Back when we were in our prime, the only thing we had'da know was a keyboard. Nowadays everything is electronic - cyber this, cyber that. They'll soon find a way to replace us all with computer systems and you know what? Nobody will give a damn

 

JOSIAH

They'll always be a need for the human touch

 

CHARLOTTE

Look at 'em all…young kids just out of J-school. What do they know about getting a story? How can you write about life if you never experienced it? 

 

JOSIAH

So true

CHARLOTTE

Guess you were a friend of the corpse or related?

 

JOSIAH

I'm friends with a lot of people. You can say that I help them through a difficult period

 

CHARLOTTE

So you're one of those - what do they call them - grief councillors? Bet you go to a lotta funerals

 

JOSIAH

I can honestly say that I've never missed one

 

CHARLOTTE

Never? Not even one by mistake?

 

JOSIAH

Not one in all the years I've been assigned here

 

CHARLOTTE

Have we met somewhere before, maybe a long while back? The more I look at you, the more familiar your face seems to me. Wait a minute! It’s so obvious as the nose on my face. You're a new bartender at Pat's watering hole. I'll pay my tab next week, I swear, it's just that I've been running a little short lately…

 

JOSIAH

We've had a few close encounters in the past, Charlotte, but this is the first time we've met one-on-one. My drinking days are history in the true sense of the word but you seem very caught up with alcoholic beverages

 

CHARLOTTE

Got it now. You own the new funeral parlor down the block and you're here to scope out the competition. Smart move on your part 

 

JOSIAH

Not…exactly but you could say I'm in the funeral business since I make a point never to miss any. In fact, funeral parlors are where I first connect with…

 

CHARLOTTE

(backing away)

Hey! You're not one of those slimy creeps who pick up rich, lonely women at funerals. Listen bud, I'm not rich and certainly not in the market to add a new man in my life.  Been there, done that, too many times. Know what I mean?

 

JOSIAH

(laughing)

You're quite priceless, my dear. Trust me when I say my interest in you is anything but corporeal in nature. You do like games, don't you, with all your questions that I would be glad to answer. There really is no secret

 

CHARLOTTE

It's my nature to snoop and dig for answers

 

JOSIAH

You don't have to. I'd be most happy to supply you with the necessary information but if you insist. Have it your way

 

CHARLOTTE

Strikes me that this corpse wasn't too popular in life judging by the amount of people who showed up here

 

JOSIAH

It's all quite sad, actually. She believed she never needed people and in the end, seems that people weren't there when she needed them most

Mourner moves to front of room and stands in front of coffin

So the departed is a female. Looky who's here! It’s my friend and co-worker, Janice. Hey girl, we were supposed to meet for lunch yesterday! I showed up but what happened to you?

 

JANICE

Miserable, lying witch! At last you made a useful contribution to the world and left it! Good riddance to bad rubbish

 

CHARLOTTE

Is that the way to talk about the dearly departed? Even dead people deserve respect from the living. Your mama never taught you any manners?

JANICE touches the coffin and returns to her seat

(aside to JANICE): ‘Janice? You-hoo! It's me.’

(aside to JOSIAH) I'm not surprised! She was always a grudge holder. We better take a seat…the minister is here

Gives Janice "the finger" while passing her by and sits with others, accompanied by JOSIAH

(Cont’d. CHARLOTTE - aside to male, PETE): ‘Heeeey Pete-eee! So, how things goin' with you? Sorry 'bout that story, but I just couldn't help myself. In fact, I did just that. I'll return the favor in the future. You know how it is in our biz’

(PETE) ignores CHARLOTTE and talks to female on other side

(Cont’d. CHARLOTTE) Still mad at me, huh? See if I care! That’s the last time I share a lead with him, let me tell you

 

JOSIAH

He can't hear you

 

CHARLOTTE

What are you talking about? Of course he can but he's busy chatting up the new receptionist. Real lizard that guy. Hits on all the new reporters. Anyway, he's probably still pissed 'cause I stole a lead on the story he was after! Far be it for me to beg forgiveness. He knows that's the way things work. First come - first served!

JOSIAH

And you certainly helped yourself, a lot, didn't you?

 

CHARLOTTE

Listen, if something falls into my hands, who am I not to take advantage? I needed a lead and Pete was nice enough to do the legwork for me. We're old friends anyway. He'll come around, won't you lizard boy?

 

JOSIAH

You find a way to justify everything. Has it dawned on you, yet, why you're here and that people are ignoring your presence?

 

CHARLOTTE

What other reason would I be in a place like this than to pay my respects to someone in the paper 'biz. Really bugging me, though, how I got here and landed up next to a coffin. I've covered practically every kind of story but I can't ever remember spending the night in a funeral parlor. Maybe I was after a story but why is my mind blank?

 

JOSIAH

Merely a temporary fog that will clear after you -

 

CHARLOTTE

- sssh! Talk softer. We're gonna get kicked out and I'll never find out who's in the coffin

MINISTER steps behind podium

 

MINISTER

Friends…
 

           Voice calls out:

'She didn't have any, so move on!'

 

MINISTER

..we are here to bid goodbye to one…

Another voice:

'Good riddance to bad rubbish!'

 

MINISTER

…a…good reporter, a good friend and colleague.

 

CHARLOTTE

This dead person must'a really screwed them over but good, but she – you did say it was a woman? Like I was saying, the dead deserve some respect too.

CHARLOTTE stands up and addresses everyone

 
'That's no way to speak about the dead, you bunch of parasites. Have some respect!'

 

MINISTER

Is there anyone here who has something positive to say, about the departed? Surely there must be one person in this entire room that could say a few nice words about the late Charlotte Pembrook?

 

CHARLOTTE

Excuse me? I can speak for myself, thank you very much… What's with this "late" Charlotte Pembrook?

MINISTER

No one? Then we'll proceed with the service

 

CHARLOTTE

What in the hell is he talking about? 'I'm still among you, in the flesh! Look! I’m here’

                                                                                                         SFX:  FLASHING LIGHTS

 

JOSIAH

Please try to control using that "H" word, which is quite deplorable where I come from. I've been trying to tell you that no one can hear you – or see you, either

CHARLOTTE

They're doing it on purpose to teach me a lesson. ‘Well, it won't work people! I'm on to you all! Can’t pull the wool over old Charlotte's eyes'

 

CHARLOTTE stands up on chair, waves and screams on top of her lungs

CHARLOTTE

‘Charlotte is here! Look! The old witch is alive and kicking. You can't ignore me forever’

JOSIAH walks to the front of the room and stands behind the coffin

JOSIAH

I'm the only person who can see you, at least for now

CHARLOTTE

Calm down, Charlotte. There’s a very simple explanation for all of this. I’ve had too much too drink and this is just a nightmare. Soon I'm gonna wake up and everything will be like it should. That’s it. A nightmare.

JOSIAH

What’s the last thing you can remember?

CHARLOTTE

Food! I was at The Rib Rack gnawing on a rib. Must’a been a bad rack or something to give me a nightmare like this. Alright – gotta calm down. I’m okay…gotta will myself to wake up…time to wake up now… C’mon body – wake up!

JOSIAH

Come over here and take a peak inside

 

CHARLOTTE moves slowly to the front of the coffin and peers down. She jumps back

CHARLOTTE

If this is a bad joke, I don't have a good sense of humor, today. Enough is enough, already. I don't know how you did this, Joey or whatever your name is to make a person look just like me. A dummy - it's a dummy, right? Hey - it's been a blast meeting you, but I got things to do, places to go…

Aside to mourners: ‘Okay you guys. You pulled off the ultimate practical joke. Got me fair and square. I give in. C'mon – don't be such grudge holders! You know I was only doing what you would'a done in my place’

 

JOSIAH

My dear, it's you in there, for real