The only way to be a full-time writer is to be unemployed.
Writing means spending hours skimming online postings of contests and other submission opportunities. Screenwriters and playwrights have to network, too, which means attending events and meetings with directors, production companies, actors, and other writers. You have to pursue pitching your works almost with the same energy you invest in writing.
Treat writing like a business, if you want to earn a living at it.
Last September, I declared my intention to become a published, real paid professional playwright. I was going to clean up the existing plays and submit things to various producers and publishers.
And then reality happened.
Nope. Nothing publishing.
I did have a new show produced, after swearing I wouldn't write a new script, and it was a good experience… but I'm still not published. Still an amateur, I suppose.
Writers and other artists have to be the most secure insecure people on Earth. We don't stop trying to pursue our crafts, confident we have something worthy of being shared. We also never stop doubting the very convictions that compel us to create.
My passion, as the post from last September indicates, had waned after mixed reviews and no publications. By the time I started to want to write again, I was teaching an overload schedule with no time to read through submission opportunities. Now, I have time to pursue writing again. For better or worse, I'm not planning to teach full-time in the coming school year.
Without other work to distract me (or to pay me), I should be pretty motivated to make this writing thing work. At least, that's the plan for now.
Showing posts with label theater. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theater. Show all posts
Friday, June 5, 2015
Friday, September 12, 2014
Hitting Pause on (New) Playwriting
It's nearly 1 a.m. on a Monday night in August, and I find that insomnia is yet again winning the nightly battle that is my quest for sleep. Although much of its power is derived from my physical situation (back pain beyond words), the real power of insomnia is self-doubt. Used against a perfectionist, self-doubt crushes the spirit and causes emotional paralysis.
It was about two hours ago that I realized I needed to reboot my writing. It was time to accept what I've been denying for a couple of weeks: I need to hit pause on writing any new stage plays and devote more energy to the other unfinished works in my life. And, if I do feel the need to start a new project, it should be a screenplay, a short story, or something other than a stage play.
Theater was good to me this year, with three full productions locally. The shows have been good, and the actors, crews, and house teams put everything into making the shows successful. The audiences seemed pleased, even when a critic wasn't. (And one critic not liking the shows isn't too bad, when ticket sales were okay, especially for one show.)
But, I only enjoyed the process sporadically. I haven't loved what I'm doing — and that's a problem. My health, my schedule, and not being more assertive earlier with the shows left me feeling disconnected from my words and the shows. Stretching myself too thin, and not just for theatrical projects (I did too many things, period), and pushing my body too hard was a problem this summer.
Theater is a collaborative medium, especially the development of new works. When that collaboration feels "off" in some way, it is like a relationship you know isn't working out and won't be saved. You realize you were better off as friends rather than teammates on a production. I share the blame for not being a constant presence during new show development, something I should have made a clear, non-negotiable aspect of developing new works.
If I cannot be present for the majority of development, working to fix issues with the script and to improve it, the process isn't fulfilling for me. This is something I feel about theater, exclusively, because of the nature of the medium.
I'm not abandoning theater, nor will I stop trying to get my existing works staged, but I'm going to follow a different path. And because that path won't be easy or likely to lead to many stagings of my works, I'm going to invest my writing energies elsewhere.
Film, I can handle the idea that you sell the script and that's life. Theater shouldn't feel that way. At least historically, it's a writer's medium. You listen to actors and directors, and you might take their suggestions, but the script is yours, as a playwright. You have the final say.
I'm not a great playwright. I'm good. My works need to be workshopped and revised. But, time and energy haven't really permitted that process. Short of directing or co-directing my own works, and self-producing, the limits of local theater aren't going to give me the development process I want or need.
Over the next few years, I'm going to finish and revise some play scripts. I'll send them to contests and theaters, hoping for productions. With more than 30 unproduced works, it isn't as if I lack for scripts to submit. Some are pretty good, and they should be produced. Ideally, I'll get to develop them and make them what they can be.
New works, though? No more plays until other projects are complete and my passion returns. If it isn't at least started, as little as an idea on a piece of paper or in a computer file, it isn't going to be a stage play.
And I do owe the actors, directors, and theatrical companies that staged my works a great deal. They liked my words enough to present them to audiences. That's really an honor and I am thankful. I learned much this summer, and that's a great thing.
It merely happens that one thing I learned about myself is that I need more control as a playwright. That reflects more on my creative needs and process than on the people producing my works for stage.
Screenplays are not stage works, as I mentioned above. You sell the script, and move on. You have to accept that it isn't "your" work. I've written screenplays and had two that production companies asked to read. Then, I stopped writing screenplays and focused on other projects. It is time to get some more screenplays out there and maybe update the ones that didn't make it to the next step.
When I was in college, I would fill a 70-page spiral notebook with poetry every year. I have nearly 1500 poems in those journals. The last journal was filled in 1998. That bothers me, since it isn't that I lost interest in poetry. I have tried, every year or two, to get back to the journals. Something hasn't felt right in 16 years, though.
I have novels started, lots of them, and need to select one and finish it. Just finishing one would be a good thing. I have outlines dating back to fourth grade that were good then and aren't bad now. It bothers me to see the half-written manuscripts, waiting for some attention.
A friend said that just as I stop writing new plays, the existing ones will start to find homes. I'd be okay with that, as long as I remember to assert more control. A lot of my difficulties with new works would be avoided if I had a more assertive personality up front… instead of waiting until I feel sick about things.
Now, I'm off to write some bad poetry.
It was about two hours ago that I realized I needed to reboot my writing. It was time to accept what I've been denying for a couple of weeks: I need to hit pause on writing any new stage plays and devote more energy to the other unfinished works in my life. And, if I do feel the need to start a new project, it should be a screenplay, a short story, or something other than a stage play.
Theater was good to me this year, with three full productions locally. The shows have been good, and the actors, crews, and house teams put everything into making the shows successful. The audiences seemed pleased, even when a critic wasn't. (And one critic not liking the shows isn't too bad, when ticket sales were okay, especially for one show.)
But, I only enjoyed the process sporadically. I haven't loved what I'm doing — and that's a problem. My health, my schedule, and not being more assertive earlier with the shows left me feeling disconnected from my words and the shows. Stretching myself too thin, and not just for theatrical projects (I did too many things, period), and pushing my body too hard was a problem this summer.
Theater is a collaborative medium, especially the development of new works. When that collaboration feels "off" in some way, it is like a relationship you know isn't working out and won't be saved. You realize you were better off as friends rather than teammates on a production. I share the blame for not being a constant presence during new show development, something I should have made a clear, non-negotiable aspect of developing new works.
If I cannot be present for the majority of development, working to fix issues with the script and to improve it, the process isn't fulfilling for me. This is something I feel about theater, exclusively, because of the nature of the medium.
I'm not abandoning theater, nor will I stop trying to get my existing works staged, but I'm going to follow a different path. And because that path won't be easy or likely to lead to many stagings of my works, I'm going to invest my writing energies elsewhere.
Film, I can handle the idea that you sell the script and that's life. Theater shouldn't feel that way. At least historically, it's a writer's medium. You listen to actors and directors, and you might take their suggestions, but the script is yours, as a playwright. You have the final say.
I'm not a great playwright. I'm good. My works need to be workshopped and revised. But, time and energy haven't really permitted that process. Short of directing or co-directing my own works, and self-producing, the limits of local theater aren't going to give me the development process I want or need.
Over the next few years, I'm going to finish and revise some play scripts. I'll send them to contests and theaters, hoping for productions. With more than 30 unproduced works, it isn't as if I lack for scripts to submit. Some are pretty good, and they should be produced. Ideally, I'll get to develop them and make them what they can be.
New works, though? No more plays until other projects are complete and my passion returns. If it isn't at least started, as little as an idea on a piece of paper or in a computer file, it isn't going to be a stage play.
And I do owe the actors, directors, and theatrical companies that staged my works a great deal. They liked my words enough to present them to audiences. That's really an honor and I am thankful. I learned much this summer, and that's a great thing.
It merely happens that one thing I learned about myself is that I need more control as a playwright. That reflects more on my creative needs and process than on the people producing my works for stage.
Screenplays are not stage works, as I mentioned above. You sell the script, and move on. You have to accept that it isn't "your" work. I've written screenplays and had two that production companies asked to read. Then, I stopped writing screenplays and focused on other projects. It is time to get some more screenplays out there and maybe update the ones that didn't make it to the next step.
When I was in college, I would fill a 70-page spiral notebook with poetry every year. I have nearly 1500 poems in those journals. The last journal was filled in 1998. That bothers me, since it isn't that I lost interest in poetry. I have tried, every year or two, to get back to the journals. Something hasn't felt right in 16 years, though.
I have novels started, lots of them, and need to select one and finish it. Just finishing one would be a good thing. I have outlines dating back to fourth grade that were good then and aren't bad now. It bothers me to see the half-written manuscripts, waiting for some attention.
A friend said that just as I stop writing new plays, the existing ones will start to find homes. I'd be okay with that, as long as I remember to assert more control. A lot of my difficulties with new works would be avoided if I had a more assertive personality up front… instead of waiting until I feel sick about things.
Now, I'm off to write some bad poetry.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Negative Reviews
"Doesn't the review bother you?" I was asked following a rather harsh criticism of a musical play that premiered this summer (2014). "It didn't even explain what the critic disliked very well."
Yes, the review bothered me, and I certainly agreed with my theater colleague that the review could have been more helpful, but every review is helpful to some extent. Some are simply more helpful than others.
A negative review tell you that something might be wrong with a work. It might not be, but critics at regional and national publications tend to know something about their specialties. In this instance, the reviewer is a playwright, so ignoring his views would be shortsighted. However, critics also have biases, and this critic hasn't demonstrated the greatest understanding of new work development in our small city. Shoestring theater seldom enables perfection, and even less often provides active development processes.
When you read a review, skip the snark. Reviewers seem to love demonstrating how smart they are, and how cynical they've become. Ignore the ego behind the review and focus on a list of concrete positives and negatives. Don't get lost in the flourishes of someone trying to impress his or her readers.
In this instance, the concrete claims appear to be:
1. Some of the musical numbers (tune and lyrics) were good.
2. The play was too long.
3. The three-act structure was problematic.
4. Direction lacked energy.
5. The play had little new to say.
As a playwright, I can't do much about any acting or directing issues, even with a new work. Things simply happen. Therefore, item four is beyond my control. Direction can also affect item five because a slow play without energy has no message, no passion. That means item five is likely a mix of problems with the script and the direction.
The length of the work and the structure are a problem. Reducing the snark to the core claim, that the play was long and oddly structured, I would agree that a new work usually needs more editing. As a writer, I tend to overwrite first drafts. Therefore, I can set aside the snark and admit the play needs another revision pass (or more).
I'm not sure I agree that the three-act structure is a problem, but it is if there are two intermissions in a modern play. Audiences want one intermission and quick scene pacing. The structure I wrote was applied literally by the director. I need to change the script — that's definitely my fault as a writer.
Learning to list the concrete claims made by reviewers is a skill writers and artists need. My final works are better because of this approach to "listening" to the critics.
Yes, the review bothered me, and I certainly agreed with my theater colleague that the review could have been more helpful, but every review is helpful to some extent. Some are simply more helpful than others.
A negative review tell you that something might be wrong with a work. It might not be, but critics at regional and national publications tend to know something about their specialties. In this instance, the reviewer is a playwright, so ignoring his views would be shortsighted. However, critics also have biases, and this critic hasn't demonstrated the greatest understanding of new work development in our small city. Shoestring theater seldom enables perfection, and even less often provides active development processes.
When you read a review, skip the snark. Reviewers seem to love demonstrating how smart they are, and how cynical they've become. Ignore the ego behind the review and focus on a list of concrete positives and negatives. Don't get lost in the flourishes of someone trying to impress his or her readers.
In this instance, the concrete claims appear to be:
1. Some of the musical numbers (tune and lyrics) were good.
2. The play was too long.
3. The three-act structure was problematic.
4. Direction lacked energy.
5. The play had little new to say.
As a playwright, I can't do much about any acting or directing issues, even with a new work. Things simply happen. Therefore, item four is beyond my control. Direction can also affect item five because a slow play without energy has no message, no passion. That means item five is likely a mix of problems with the script and the direction.
The length of the work and the structure are a problem. Reducing the snark to the core claim, that the play was long and oddly structured, I would agree that a new work usually needs more editing. As a writer, I tend to overwrite first drafts. Therefore, I can set aside the snark and admit the play needs another revision pass (or more).
I'm not sure I agree that the three-act structure is a problem, but it is if there are two intermissions in a modern play. Audiences want one intermission and quick scene pacing. The structure I wrote was applied literally by the director. I need to change the script — that's definitely my fault as a writer.
Learning to list the concrete claims made by reviewers is a skill writers and artists need. My final works are better because of this approach to "listening" to the critics.
Monday, August 4, 2014
Reviews and Writing
Writers, and any other artists, have to be ready to accept the judgments of critics. I was sent a couple of nice notes regarding a negative review, from audience members (and friends) who liked the particular show reviewed, but I have to also consider the power of critics to make or break a work.
Pittsburgh City Paper: New Death... Airless and Deadly
How much do critics influence an artist? For me, that depends on the critic and his or her biases. If a critic has a history of liking a particular genre or a particular set of writers — and disliking others — then I have to ask if I fall into Column A or Column B.
Even when an artist is in Column B, and approval is a long-shot at best, I would still suggest listening and asking what the nuggets of truth are in the review and how to address those. A negative review is valuable, if you're willing to learn what you can and ignore the rest.
From the review above, I am reminded that opening nights aren't easy. Seldom does an opening occur without dropped lines, missed cues, and a nervousness that feels unnatural. That is simply the nature of new shows. Add in a new, untested script, and there's more reason for unease and mistakes.
As a playwright, I have to ask what I can do to help a cast and crew make the best of their talents. Did I tighten the dialogue enough? Did I balance the action with exposition? Did I make the most of the medium, especially as stages have serious limitations. Did I balance humor with whatever else I'm trying to convey?
I don't write farce or sitcoms. I don't aim for a joke or two a page. I write serious plays with lighter moments. When the audience starts to consider the work a comedy, that's a failing on my part to balance the early pages well.
As this production winds down, I'll look at the script and compare my notes with reviews, audience feedback, cast and crew notes, and whatever else is available. All my plays undergo endless revisions. A negative review, or a positive review, can influence the choices I make revising.
A fellow playwright say, "Not every play is for every audience." That's also something to keep in mind.
Never let negative marks (grades, reviews, audiences) stop you from taking chances. Take the feedback and move forward with the next idea. What you shouldn't do is try to please the negative voices, item by item, because then you aren't creating your own vision.
Pittsburgh City Paper: New Death... Airless and Deadly
How much do critics influence an artist? For me, that depends on the critic and his or her biases. If a critic has a history of liking a particular genre or a particular set of writers — and disliking others — then I have to ask if I fall into Column A or Column B.
Even when an artist is in Column B, and approval is a long-shot at best, I would still suggest listening and asking what the nuggets of truth are in the review and how to address those. A negative review is valuable, if you're willing to learn what you can and ignore the rest.
From the review above, I am reminded that opening nights aren't easy. Seldom does an opening occur without dropped lines, missed cues, and a nervousness that feels unnatural. That is simply the nature of new shows. Add in a new, untested script, and there's more reason for unease and mistakes.
As a playwright, I have to ask what I can do to help a cast and crew make the best of their talents. Did I tighten the dialogue enough? Did I balance the action with exposition? Did I make the most of the medium, especially as stages have serious limitations. Did I balance humor with whatever else I'm trying to convey?
I don't write farce or sitcoms. I don't aim for a joke or two a page. I write serious plays with lighter moments. When the audience starts to consider the work a comedy, that's a failing on my part to balance the early pages well.
As this production winds down, I'll look at the script and compare my notes with reviews, audience feedback, cast and crew notes, and whatever else is available. All my plays undergo endless revisions. A negative review, or a positive review, can influence the choices I make revising.
A fellow playwright say, "Not every play is for every audience." That's also something to keep in mind.
Never let negative marks (grades, reviews, audiences) stop you from taking chances. Take the feedback and move forward with the next idea. What you shouldn't do is try to please the negative voices, item by item, because then you aren't creating your own vision.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
New Play: A New Death World Premier
This is why I haven't been blogging a lot this summer. I've been working on several new plays…
A NEW DEATH
A World Premiere
By C.S. Wyatt
Directed By Kaitlin Kerr
Assistant Directed By Sarah McPartland
Presented by Throughline Theatre Company
July 18 - July 26
The Grey Box Theatre
3595 Butler St, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15201
TICKETS:
Featuring:
Andy Coleman
Chelsea Faber
Hazel Carr Leroy
Eric Leslie
Tonya Lynn
Sarah McPartland
Jared King Rombold
John Henry Steelman
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Women Say F*ck, Too!
This is what I've been up to…
Women Say F*ck, Too! introduces Dani, Kitty, and Stephanie, young women from Western PA trying to escape a struggling Beaver County township in the early 1990s. The first play in a quartet, Women Say… addresses poverty, gender and more. The series follows these women from graduation to motherhood.
Women Say F*ck, Too!
by C. S. Wyatt
Directed by M. Reagle
Steel City Improv
5950 Ellsworth Ave, Pittsburgh, PA 15232
Friday, May 9, 6:40pm-8pm
Saturday, May 10, 7pm-8:20pm
Sunday, May 11, 2pm-3:20pm
Buy tickets!
http://pghfringe.ticketleap.com/women-say-fck-too/
Produced by The LAB Project
Monteze Freeland, Artistic Director / Founder
Cast:
Cassidy Adkins as Kitty
Jackie Baker as Stephanie
Linda Kanyarusoke as Dani
Developed with Cindy "C.J." Jackson, Hazel Leroy, and Mysti Wyatt
Set Design and Concepts by P. Milo
Women Say F*ck, Too! introduces Dani, Kitty, and Stephanie, young women from Western PA trying to escape a struggling Beaver County township in the early 1990s. The first play in a quartet, Women Say… addresses poverty, gender and more. The series follows these women from graduation to motherhood.
Women Say F*ck, Too!
by C. S. Wyatt
Directed by M. Reagle
Steel City Improv
5950 Ellsworth Ave, Pittsburgh, PA 15232
Friday, May 9, 6:40pm-8pm
Saturday, May 10, 7pm-8:20pm
Sunday, May 11, 2pm-3:20pm
Buy tickets!
http://pghfringe.ticketleap.com/women-say-fck-too/
Produced by The LAB Project
Monteze Freeland, Artistic Director / Founder
Cast:
Cassidy Adkins as Kitty
Jackie Baker as Stephanie
Linda Kanyarusoke as Dani
Developed with Cindy "C.J." Jackson, Hazel Leroy, and Mysti Wyatt
Set Design and Concepts by P. Milo
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Writing is Planning
As I finished the draft of a short play, a colleague sent me a message asking how many new manuscripts or adaptations I have written in the last twelve months or so. It seems best to list them:
That would be six new works, with another two or three outlined. My goal is to complete seven new works in the 20-minute or longer range during 2014. Most of my plays run 70 to 80 minutes, not counting intermissions.
Friends say it seems like I've done more. That's because older works that had been collecting dust are now finding homes as I dedicate myself to completing them, too. Older plays that have been revised or rewritten in the past year:
I have at least ten scripts I hope to revive by 2015.
These counts do not include scripts I edited, revised, or completely wrote for other individuals as a consultant.
I don't sit around waiting for ideas and I've stopped trying to perfect my old ideas. Now, I aim to get as many good scripts to producers and directors as possible. A good scripts becomes better, or even great, during the development process. Trying to perfect plays by editing alone for ten years was an ineffective approach to writing scripts.
Writers write. It's that simple. Some of what I write will never be produced, some of it will be. You can't write one or two manuscripts and then spend years and years trying to craft perfection. Write, and write some more. You never know when a script will find a home.
- Billie's Girlfriend, written in early 2014 and submitted to Acting Out! Pittsburgh Pride for consideration. It might not be selected, of course, but it is a new play.
- Twists of Choice, written in early 2014 for The LAB Project, premiering in 2015.
- Women Say F*ck, Too! written in late 2013 and premiering during the Pittsburgh Fringe Festival in May, 2014.
- The Fertility Dance, written in 2013 and submitted to a regional contest. The company passed on the script, but it found a home for 2015.
- The Cat Lady, written in 2014, about to be submitted to a regional contest.
- Under Development, written in 2013, received a staged reading by Organic Theater Pittsburgh.
That would be six new works, with another two or three outlined. My goal is to complete seven new works in the 20-minute or longer range during 2014. Most of my plays run 70 to 80 minutes, not counting intermissions.
Friends say it seems like I've done more. That's because older works that had been collecting dust are now finding homes as I dedicate myself to completing them, too. Older plays that have been revised or rewritten in the past year:
- A New Death, my oldest unproduced script was rewritten and submitted to Throughline Theatre and will be premiering in July 2014.
- The Gospel Singer, premiering in August, 2014, received as staged reading in 2013 as part of the "In the Raw" festival of Bricolage Production Company.
- Clown and Mime, revised in 2013.
- The Garden, which was produced in 2012, has been revised for a future production. (I can dream.)
I have at least ten scripts I hope to revive by 2015.
These counts do not include scripts I edited, revised, or completely wrote for other individuals as a consultant.
I don't sit around waiting for ideas and I've stopped trying to perfect my old ideas. Now, I aim to get as many good scripts to producers and directors as possible. A good scripts becomes better, or even great, during the development process. Trying to perfect plays by editing alone for ten years was an ineffective approach to writing scripts.
Writers write. It's that simple. Some of what I write will never be produced, some of it will be. You can't write one or two manuscripts and then spend years and years trying to craft perfection. Write, and write some more. You never know when a script will find a home.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Mnemonic was 'Too Good' for Me…
Sunday, I went to see Quantum Theatre's production of "Mnemonic." I give a lot of credit to Quantum Theatre for taking a chance. Performing another company's work was risky, and it didn't quite work for me. This was a play devised by an entire production company, written by the actors and representing that original production company.
As a writer and audience member, my wife can attest that I like some "odd" things. I respect adventurous writing and innovative staging. I've seen plays in which the actors never take the stage, and some that were immersive media experiences. I've enjoyed plays that are in multiple languages, reminding me that good actors and staging transcend language barriers (but I still tried to translate what I could). I've written plays in which mime was essential, and some that are surely abstract.
But you must never forget that people need to feel engaged by a play. Writing shouldn't push the audience or readers away. I don't fall into the camp that "art must offend" nor do I believe that "challenging" the audience has no limits. You can overshoot the challenge, and then you're left with empty seats.
Reviews such as this are a problem for theatre:
As a writer and audience member, my wife can attest that I like some "odd" things. I respect adventurous writing and innovative staging. I've seen plays in which the actors never take the stage, and some that were immersive media experiences. I've enjoyed plays that are in multiple languages, reminding me that good actors and staging transcend language barriers (but I still tried to translate what I could). I've written plays in which mime was essential, and some that are surely abstract.
But you must never forget that people need to feel engaged by a play. Writing shouldn't push the audience or readers away. I don't fall into the camp that "art must offend" nor do I believe that "challenging" the audience has no limits. You can overshoot the challenge, and then you're left with empty seats.
Based on a small random sample of audience response, I might say "Mnemonic" is too good for its audience, except that the Quantum audience is as good as it gets in Pittsburgh (adventurous, intelligent, willing).
— Stage review: Quantum traces memory, mysteries
When you consider a work "too good" for an educated, informed audience including professors from excellent universities, it might be the work that is the problem. The acting was solid enough and the staging was excellent, but the play didn't speak to me — and judging by others, it didn't speak to them, either. The play feels like it was meant for a specific place, time, and production company. It didn't make the move, and maybe that's an interesting question in itself.
I can't say it was a bad experience, watching "Mnemonic." I can't say it was wonderful, either. It was "okay" — which isn't going to expand the audience for theatre. I'm not suggesting theatre has to be pop to be a success, but it can't be "okay" and thrive.
When someone like me, a fan of the surrealists, modern art, and experimental music, is left wondering "What was the point?" that's not theatre that's "too good" for the audience. (And yes, absurdist theatre makes the point that there is no point… but "Mnemonic" wasn't an absurdist work.)
When someone like me, a fan of the surrealists, modern art, and experimental music, is left wondering "What was the point?" that's not theatre that's "too good" for the audience. (And yes, absurdist theatre makes the point that there is no point… but "Mnemonic" wasn't an absurdist work.)
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Finding Me
Through 1991, I had filled six journals with poetry and short prose. Then, it took me seven years to fill the seventh. The eighth journal has been less than half-filled since 1999 or so. This summer, 2013, I have vowed a return to the poetry journals just as I have returned to playwriting after too many years.
There is a box marked "Scott's Writing" in the basement. For years, it was a paper box, a Staples red box to be precise. Our first house in Pennsylvania flooded and I moved the writing to a clear plastic bin. While I know the bins can crack and leak, let me pretend that my writing is now a little safer.
Why not backup the writing to the cloud? Because much of the writing has never been digitized. The writing wasn't created on a computer. I still have poems and plays I wrote in fifth grade, Mr. B's class at Ivanhoe Elementary. I was a playwright and poet then... and I still am. I just got a bit lost along the way. "Books" bound with colored electrical tape and featuring crayon illustrations are meant to be what they are — physical artifacts of my youth.
It's hard to explain the gaps in my writing. There was a shift from poetry to scripts in 1999. Then, I stopped writing for several years. In 2004, I returned to graduate school and my creative writing was once again pushed aside. But why is that? Several of my classmates and a few professors managed to write creative and scholarly simultaneously.
Looking back, I wrote a lot of poetry and short stories while an undergraduate. I wrote hundreds of pages for myself, while writing academic papers, working on the school paper, and working 20 to 30 hours a week. What's my excuse for the lack of productivity in the last decade or so?
Writing well isn't about writing a lot — but the two aren't entirely separate. I'd like to be even a fraction as productive as I was years ago. You can always edit and revise once the ideas are on paper or stored away as bits of data.
As I have posted recently, I believe I was afraid of being "just a writer" instead of having a more secure career. An aspiring writer is like an aspiring actor: one works at Starbucks and the other waits tables, but they both have big dreams. Recently, I was asked if I'd consider acting in one of my stage plays. That would make me eligible for paying jobs as a barista and a waiter!
I wonder what coffee house poets are qualified to do?
There is a box marked "Scott's Writing" in the basement. For years, it was a paper box, a Staples red box to be precise. Our first house in Pennsylvania flooded and I moved the writing to a clear plastic bin. While I know the bins can crack and leak, let me pretend that my writing is now a little safer.
Why not backup the writing to the cloud? Because much of the writing has never been digitized. The writing wasn't created on a computer. I still have poems and plays I wrote in fifth grade, Mr. B's class at Ivanhoe Elementary. I was a playwright and poet then... and I still am. I just got a bit lost along the way. "Books" bound with colored electrical tape and featuring crayon illustrations are meant to be what they are — physical artifacts of my youth.
It's hard to explain the gaps in my writing. There was a shift from poetry to scripts in 1999. Then, I stopped writing for several years. In 2004, I returned to graduate school and my creative writing was once again pushed aside. But why is that? Several of my classmates and a few professors managed to write creative and scholarly simultaneously.
Looking back, I wrote a lot of poetry and short stories while an undergraduate. I wrote hundreds of pages for myself, while writing academic papers, working on the school paper, and working 20 to 30 hours a week. What's my excuse for the lack of productivity in the last decade or so?
Writing well isn't about writing a lot — but the two aren't entirely separate. I'd like to be even a fraction as productive as I was years ago. You can always edit and revise once the ideas are on paper or stored away as bits of data.
As I have posted recently, I believe I was afraid of being "just a writer" instead of having a more secure career. An aspiring writer is like an aspiring actor: one works at Starbucks and the other waits tables, but they both have big dreams. Recently, I was asked if I'd consider acting in one of my stage plays. That would make me eligible for paying jobs as a barista and a waiter!
I wonder what coffee house poets are qualified to do?
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Dramatist Me
Deciding to be a full-time "dramatist" is not a decision to be taken lightly. Yet, that is the path I am choosing. This probably proves I'm unrealistic and unstable.
Playwrights and screenwriters seldom earn "the big bucks" as writers. Okay, few writers in any genres become wealthy. That's why so many of us split our time between writing and teaching writing to other aspiring scribblers. Consider the logic of struggling career writers encouraging other writers, but don't dwell on it too long.
There are some precautions to take, like preparing for a wagon-train across the frontier.
My wife and I are stocking up on food and water, buying what we can on sale and storing it in our basement. Canned food and pasta are the staples for starving artists, I've been told. Yes, we have our Ramen noodles, rise, and Campbell's condensed soups on the shelves. It isn't enough to stock for the lean months. No, we're mastering coupon clipping, too. Stock up on the cheap!
Next, you have to have good guides, unflinching men and women familiar with the terrain. I've met several such guides, and a few scouts, too. The scouts are great because they've suffered the slings and arrows of production company rejections. Ideally, I'll learn what not to do by listening closely.
Knowing that failure is the likeliest of outcomes, why in the world would I dedicate myself to this path? Because I've always admired dramatists.
I've lived in some great regions for the theatrically minded. I grew up in the Central Valley of California, a region captured by the works of John Steinbeck and William Saroyan. What playwright wouldn't want to be like Saroyan? A bicycling curmudgeon on the streets of Fresno, I can relate to that.
My wife and I moved to Minneapolis in 2006, where theatre and radio plays are at the heart of the region's creative community. I would look at the Guthrie Theater (despite how ugly I believe it is) and imagine one of my works on the main stage. Maybe the second stage, but still… it is THE Guthrie.
Today, we live in Western Pennsylvania. My plays are being read in the shadow of the August Wilson Center. (While he traveled East to West, we've gone the opposite direction.) Another great playwright, looming large in my imagination, reminding me how middling my works might be.
For every Wilson or Saroyan, there are hundreds of dramatists like me. How absurd is it to imagine I might have a play on stage in Pittsburgh, Minneapolis, Chicago… or even New York City? Short of self-production, a path restricted to the more financially secure (or insane) dramatists, the path ahead will be rocky.
Maybe you'll find me in coming months, standing outside the August Wilson Center passing out scripts to passersby in the hopes that one might know someone who knows an agent or producer.
Playwrights and screenwriters seldom earn "the big bucks" as writers. Okay, few writers in any genres become wealthy. That's why so many of us split our time between writing and teaching writing to other aspiring scribblers. Consider the logic of struggling career writers encouraging other writers, but don't dwell on it too long.
There are some precautions to take, like preparing for a wagon-train across the frontier.
My wife and I are stocking up on food and water, buying what we can on sale and storing it in our basement. Canned food and pasta are the staples for starving artists, I've been told. Yes, we have our Ramen noodles, rise, and Campbell's condensed soups on the shelves. It isn't enough to stock for the lean months. No, we're mastering coupon clipping, too. Stock up on the cheap!
Next, you have to have good guides, unflinching men and women familiar with the terrain. I've met several such guides, and a few scouts, too. The scouts are great because they've suffered the slings and arrows of production company rejections. Ideally, I'll learn what not to do by listening closely.
Knowing that failure is the likeliest of outcomes, why in the world would I dedicate myself to this path? Because I've always admired dramatists.
I've lived in some great regions for the theatrically minded. I grew up in the Central Valley of California, a region captured by the works of John Steinbeck and William Saroyan. What playwright wouldn't want to be like Saroyan? A bicycling curmudgeon on the streets of Fresno, I can relate to that.
My wife and I moved to Minneapolis in 2006, where theatre and radio plays are at the heart of the region's creative community. I would look at the Guthrie Theater (despite how ugly I believe it is) and imagine one of my works on the main stage. Maybe the second stage, but still… it is THE Guthrie.
Today, we live in Western Pennsylvania. My plays are being read in the shadow of the August Wilson Center. (While he traveled East to West, we've gone the opposite direction.) Another great playwright, looming large in my imagination, reminding me how middling my works might be.
For every Wilson or Saroyan, there are hundreds of dramatists like me. How absurd is it to imagine I might have a play on stage in Pittsburgh, Minneapolis, Chicago… or even New York City? Short of self-production, a path restricted to the more financially secure (or insane) dramatists, the path ahead will be rocky.
Maybe you'll find me in coming months, standing outside the August Wilson Center passing out scripts to passersby in the hopes that one might know someone who knows an agent or producer.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Original Notes from The Gospel Singer
Questions for 'In the Raw' Marketing
Answers of C. S. Wyatt
Playwright, The Gospel Singer (or, Religion is a Drag)
1) What inspired you to write this play?
My sister, Mysti, gave me the idea. She claims to have an endless supply of ideas for me – as long as I promise to invite her to any red carpet events. Mysti has given me the ideas for a dozen or more scripts. We share a dark, dry wit. We both find people amusing, especially the people unaware they are amusing.
Several people inspired The Gospel Singer. Mysti and I were active in community theater, which is how we came to know "Isaac" and "Donnie." All the characters in the play are based on real people. Though our hometown of Visalia is in California, it is a Southern town. Consider this article from the L.A. Times:
Visalia is… no stranger to controversy. In 1986, business owner Loren Lowdermilk announced that he would be named grand titan for the Ku Klux Klan in California and Visalia would become the KKK's headquarters. That set off demonstrations of protest by large crowds of townspeople outside Lowdermilk's auto-parts business. He keeps a low profile these days. — Los Angeles Times, March 3, 1991Anyone calling himself a "Grand Titan" is pretty absurd. Then, you meet the man and the local Evangelical pastor trying to "clean up the town." The pastor's son drove a new red Porsche. The blind leading the blind. One of my high school classmates drove the General Lee from the "Dukes of Hazard" — and he was Mexican-American.
Imagine being gay, black, devout Christian, and an entertainer in such a community. That's a story better than any fiction I could craft. People were offended when the AIDS Quilt came to town a few years later. So, of course, Mysti volunteered to work on a panel and the local production of Quilt.
I worked on the production of the musical Quilt doing drag make-up. Connie created the panels for John and Brent. We couldn't get enough actors to fill all the roles because people didn't want to work with the "gay theater company." It was sad. — Mysti Wyatt, 2013.Some situations (and people) are so absurd, you need to laugh at them. I hope The Gospel Singer does just that — allows people to laugh at hypocrisy, including our own. That would make "Isaac" smile.
2) How do you think the In the Raw process will help you?
As the saying goes, comedy is hard work. It's even harder when you aren't a funny person. Friends tell me I'm funny on paper, but caution me against trying stand-up. We have friends who can make any story hilarious. I can ruin the funniest story simply by speaking the words. Hearing and seeing a play, it's easier to see where the humor does and doesn't work.
If people aren't laughing even at the serious moments, then a script isn't ready for production. When I hear laughter through the tears, then the play is finished. It's not there yet, so it doesn't do justice to the men who inspired The Gospel Singer. They were among the naturally funny storytellers.
3) How does this play fit into the larger body of your creative work?
The Gospel Singer was in a tightly packed box, along with my other scripts. It is much easier to stack full boxes; they hold weight better. The plays were supporting my box of mediocre poetry.
High-quality drama and literary works impress me, yet when I have attempted to write something serious, the dark humor comes through. If you want to persuade people, make them smile. Normal Lear is a role model, along with comics like Sam Kinison, George Carlin, and Lewis Black. I was fortunate enough to meet Kinison twice during college. His advice was, paraphrasing, "Scream at the audience. They deserve it. Look at the world around you! It is a joke."
The Gospel Singer addresses serious issues without being preachy. Well, the music is a little preachy. From getting older (The Garden) to fighting city regulations (Clown and Mime), my works are about real people, real situations, and the choice to laugh in the face of absurdity. You can either believe "Life sucks, and then you die" or you can realize the cosmic joke is how seriously some people take stupid issues. Mock those people — they usually don't recognize themselves, anyway.
4) What was your biggest challenge in writing this play? How long did it take?
The biggest challenge for me is submitting a script to a theater company. I'm a productive writer, but not good at doing anything with what I write. My wife, Susan, says I get distracted by the next project before the current one is complete. We tried to-do lists, schedules, and every imaginable task management suggestion. Friends say I need an assistant to keep me on task. It would be full-time job.
I wrote the first draft of The Gospel Singer during November and December of 2003. I was "between jobs" and wrote five or six plays during that winter, most of them simultaneously. When I have an idea, I write quickly. I log the writing time for each project, because that's what every obsessive person would do. The Gospel Singer took almost 20 hours to write. If I pause and think about the writing, I find only the faults and suffer creative paralysis. Unfortunately, I tend to write something and move on to the next idea. That's why I have boxes filled with scripts and other writings.
I returned to graduate school in 2004 to study composition theory and the rhetoric of fiction —not a very marketable master's degree. The Gospel Singer joined many other scripts in a storage box. We moved to Minneapolis in 2006 and the box ended up in our basement. On a summer day in 2010, I sat on the floor of our basement and read several of the scripts. I though, "This script isn't horrible." I sent The Gospel Singer to my sister, asking her what she thought. I partially revised the script… and then my wife and I moved to Beaver County, Pennsylvania. The scripts were "lost" again until late 2012.
Vowing not to forget old scripts again, in early 2013, I sat down and started typing them into Final Draft. While I was revising The Gospel Singer, I received an email announcing "In the Raw." My wife told me to send the script to Bricolage, so I did.
You can say the play took nine years to revise, or you could say it took three months, spread out over nine years. Maybe I should do something with the other scripts in the box, too. But, I have other ideas to get onto paper….
5) If you could eat your play, would you like how it tastes?
At least it isn't bitter. I have a sweet tooth.
Playwright's Notes
I have already pondered what people will ask when they first read this or see it produced. No, on the surface you couldn't ask for a stranger proponent of faith. I'm agnostic, or something like that. Then again, I'm also not gay, black, a Southerner, or a singer of any skill — ask anyone unfortunate enough to hear me try.
Writers should explore what they don't know. Being outside a story gives me more reason to research themes. I learn a lot talking to other people and trying to tell their stories as best I can. It is fascinating to me that few people think their experiences are interesting or could teach lessons to a wider audience. Granted, writers get to fill-in what they don't know with whatever they fancy.
This play is about faith. Not really the faith in a higher power, which I leave to theologians and philosophers for now, but faith in yourself and what you must do to be true to yourself. If you aren't true to yourself, no other faith matters.
About the Playwright (original version, from 2004)
(I always write an "about" — and then few people see it because I stash the writing into a box.)We are assured C. S. Wyatt exists. Rumor has it there is photographic evidence he roams Central California, looking for inspiration. Many suspect this quest is a thinly veiled effort to avoid editing, that painful process of recognizing he makes a lot of mistakes when typing. At least he ventures beyond his home office and into sunlight, regardless of the reason.
The Gospel Singer is Wyatt's nineteenth attack upon the dramatic form. For some reason, he attempts to make a statement with each script. This is a more plausible explanation for his reclusive manner.
C. S. Wyatt is a member of the Dramatists Guild of America, Inc., the Alliance of Los Angeles Playwrights, and the Visalia Community Players. The Players are authorized to present his works for fundraising purposes.
Monday, April 8, 2013
The Gospel Singer (or, Religion is a Drag)
Saturday night, my wife and I attended the "B.U.S. 8" (Bricolage Urban Scrawl) fundraiser at Pittsburgh's New Hazlett Theater. The event supports the Bricolage Production Company's theater season. The theater, and its lobby, were packed with people. It was great to see the level of community support for new, original theater in the Pittsburgh area.
The atmosphere was wonderfully supportive. Often, writing is a lonely and frustrating process. To have a theater community celebrate writers, directors, actors, and tech crews equally was encouraging.
One of my plays, The Gospel Singer (or, Religion is a Drag), was selected for Bricolage's "In the Raw" play festival. The dramaturg working with me said Bricolage received more than 80 script submissions; only three new works were selected. A Raisin in the Sun, by Lorraine Hansberry, and A Streetcar Named Desire, by Tennessee Williams, are the classic plays to be featured during the festival. There's something a bit intimidating about having one of your plays listed alongside two of the greatest works in American theatrical history. (Tangent: The 1961 film version of A Raisin in the Sun is even better than the more famous Streetcar adaptation. Watch it.)
The Gospel Singer will be performed "In the Raw" on May 19 and 20, at the Bricolage Theater in downtown Pittsburgh, PA. Here's the kicker: The price of admission is whatever you will generously contribute to Bricolage. If you'd like to learn more about "In the Raw" (including The Gospel Singer), visit:
http://www.bricolagepgh.org/events/gospel-singer
The atmosphere was wonderfully supportive. Often, writing is a lonely and frustrating process. To have a theater community celebrate writers, directors, actors, and tech crews equally was encouraging.
One of my plays, The Gospel Singer (or, Religion is a Drag), was selected for Bricolage's "In the Raw" play festival. The dramaturg working with me said Bricolage received more than 80 script submissions; only three new works were selected. A Raisin in the Sun, by Lorraine Hansberry, and A Streetcar Named Desire, by Tennessee Williams, are the classic plays to be featured during the festival. There's something a bit intimidating about having one of your plays listed alongside two of the greatest works in American theatrical history. (Tangent: The 1961 film version of A Raisin in the Sun is even better than the more famous Streetcar adaptation. Watch it.)
The Gospel Singer will be performed "In the Raw" on May 19 and 20, at the Bricolage Theater in downtown Pittsburgh, PA. Here's the kicker: The price of admission is whatever you will generously contribute to Bricolage. If you'd like to learn more about "In the Raw" (including The Gospel Singer), visit:
http://www.bricolagepgh.org/events/gospel-singer
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