A change of direction for "Seeds" - Mr. Bird fades in

Been adding to "Seeds" although not as often as I like or should. Progress is dependent upon sudden brain storms or those rare but very welcome "eureka!" moments that give clarification to the story line.

Somehow, and after reading over what currently exists, there seems to be - at least in my mind - that the direction the play is taking is too predictable bordering on blech.
The subject, an accidental meeting of two people in a park, one of whom seems to have what could be best described as an unusual gravitation to pigeons, is interesting. However - as mentioned numerous times in this blog, it's always the 'howevers' in life that get you - it's too ordinary and needed a shake-up. So...

A new character has been added. Elwood P. Dowd had his rabbit, Harvey, and now Sylvia Perkins has joined his league with her friend of a feather, Mr. Bird, a pigeon.

Following yet another run in with Hal, a  park supervisor, who wants to maintain cleanliness and limit the appearance of pigeon poo in his territory, Julie feels a moral responsibility to help Sylvia. The two return to Julie's apartment and at the mention of the word "bath" and a failed attempt to remove Sylvia's weather-worn rain coat, Mr. Bird suddenly puts in an appearance, in a manner of speaking.  Maybe it'll work and maybe it won't - hav'ta see where this will take me, if anywhere. If not, it'll be yet another return to the drawing/re-writing board.

Yet another snippet of dialogue from "Seeds." Julie attempts to convince Sylvia to stay for supper and warm up. When 'speaking' with Mr. Bird, Sylvia turns her head to the side

JULIE

How about a plain, old American cheese sandwich and a coffee? Indulge me as your new friend. Look – it’s snowing out so why not wait until morning. This couch opens up into a bed and at least you'll have a full stomach and a night's sleep. It's better than a park bench

SYLVIA

You’re very kind but I can’t possibly stay. It’s getting late and my friends will be wondering where I am

(Turns her head to the side) ‘I know, Mr. Bird. I’m trying to explain our need to leave…’

JULIE

Really, Mr. Bird, one night in a warm bed won’t make a difference in the scheme of things. Wouldn’t that be better than hanging out in a park or building heating ducts? This is getting more weird by the minute… I’m definitely losing it. Next I'll be talking to squirrels. Correct me if I’m wrong here, Sylvia, but there’s only two people in this room, you and me, right?

          SYLVIA Recoils in horror and backs away

SYLVIA

How could you be so cruel? You’re just like all the other humans we meet. No feelings whatsoever for those less-fortunate who have to survive living on the generosity of others and on the cusp of society. You have hurt Mr. Bird’s feelings for the last time. We are leaving (turns her head to the side) ‘I’m ready to leave if you are, Mr. B’

JULIE

Please – wait. Perhaps I’ve acted too hastily. After all, we’re still at the getting to know you, stage, and I don’t want to threaten our budding friendship with misunderstandings. How about this: you and – um – Mr. Bird stay for a bite and I’ll give you a bag of peanuts to take back. Don’t believe I’m actually making a deal that involves a…

SYLVIA

(turning her head to the side)

‘What do you think? I mean, she is trying…then there's a bag of peanuts at the end… You’re in agreement, then?’ We have accepted your apology

 

          SYLVIA starts laughing

‘That is like…so funny. Where do you pick up those funny gems? 

JULIE

Am I missing something?

SYLVIA

(continuing to laugh hysterically)

It’s Mr. Bird – he has such a weird sense of humor and especially adroit telling jokes. He wants me to pass along one he heard in the park: you can never lose a homing pigeon. If he doesn’t come back, what you’ve lost is a pigeon

          (SYLVIA laughs uproariously)

 

You are such a joker, Mr. Bird!’ Mr. Bird wants to know what you think of his joke. It’s one of his best

JULIE

Humor is subjective, especially bird humor. Weird – don’t recall you introducing Mr. Bird when we first met

SYLVIA

He’s a free spirit. Comes and goes when the mood hits him. He’s really taken to you. Usually he only hangs around for a few minutes

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.