Having faith in (the fact that people will disobey) the system (when it is right to do so)

The good news is, I survived January. The bad news is, I am on day 19 of not having a day when I have not been in my office. But Saturday is soon and this Saturday, unlike the last two, I need not go into work. The problem with being busy and being honest about your business and being transparent about how that business sometimes makes you feel . . . sooner or later (like when you’ve worked a 61-hour week) someone is going to take something away from you, and when you work in theater and you like everything you are doing, no matter what is taken it is a personal loss. But more about that this later.

First Look. Our January of First Look was a success by all the measures we set for ourselves. Our playwrights were happy. Our students who participated in the workshops learned and grew a lot. Our 45-seat house was full or at least fullish for all 6 presentations. Could it have been smoother? Yes. Could some of the playwrights have used their time better? Sure. Did being the audience coordinator require more work than I expected? Absolutely.

But let me tell you when I got my payoff.

Friday night. 8:30. Second presentation of Christina Anderson’s Blacktop Sky, a play I am in love with and want to take back to U. City High and direct in the gym. For that same night, our students were invited to attend the dress rehearsal of a local opera, and the powers that be made it obligatory that they attend. At first it looked as though they weren’t going to be able to see Blacktop Sky at all, which infuriated me. Why would we prioritize ANYTHING over our own presentation of a play directed and performed by our own people, much less a play this good? But we moved our second performance to 8:30 so the students could see both. It was going to be tight, but they could just make it back. Friday night. 7:45. We learn the opera dress has started 30 minutes late. We freak out. Half our audience was to be comprised of our students. What do we do? Do we start the presentation without them and usher them in late? It should be said that we were in our tiny blackbox, and the disruption would have been substantial. So do we start the presentation 30 minutes late? But then what about the 20 punctual audience members?

I am not sure we ever came to a solution. We didn’t have to. 8:25 rolled around, and there were our students, soaking wet from the rain but otherwise in good spirits. They had left the unfinished opera to support their people. No one had told them to. They just did it, en masse. Because they knew it was right. And the show, which had been fine for the first presentation at 5:30, was infused with an energy and spirit that made it impossible to leave, which I was going to do. I was going to check names off my attendance sheet and be home to Rachel by 9:30. But I couldn’t. Moments like that don’t happen often, when the energy in the room is palpable and just keeps growing in intensity until the curtain comes down. They are not to be squandered.

That moment made the whole month worth the work. And I will still be saying that tomorrow, on day 20.

Possible posts to come:
What I have been asked to (“temporarily”) give up and how I’m coming to terms with it.
Two new writing projects: a hostel site-specific environment and Alice, a celebration of psychosis
How J. D. Salinger’s Nine Stories shaped my sophomore year of high school, and why I will revisit Teddy and Seymour throughout my life.

Submitting your play to a new-works festival: some hopefully helpful hints (PART 5; Final Meeting: After)

I meant to include this little tidbit in a past post but never got around to it:

What Does Doodling do?
JACKIE ANDRADE
School of Psychology, University of Plymouth, UK
SUMMARY
Doodling is a way of passing the time when bored by a lecture or telephone call. Does it improve or hinder attention to the primary task? To answer this question, 40 participants monitored a monotonous mock telephone message for the names of people coming to a party. Half of the group was randomly assigned to a ‘doodling’ condition where they shaded printed shapes while listening to the telephone call. The doodling group performed better on the monitoring task and recalled 29% more information on a surprise memory test. Unlike many dual task situations, doodling while working can be beneficial. Future research could test whether doodling aids cognitive performance by reducing daydreaming.
Copyright # 2009 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd.

So, dear playwright, when you see the doodle accompanying this post from tonight’s 6-hour meeting, please know that I now have our most popular almost-science backing up my claim that I was fully paying attention!

The angelfood cake was somewhat a success, though the strawberry sauce–which turned out to be an gelatinous goop–was not. The organizers of the festival asked us in email-passing to bring sweets if we wanted any, which of course meant we had 5 different cakes (some homemade!). We are a nice group, I would argue. Only a nice group would provide five cakes for a group of 17 or so.

Tonight was grand and exhausting. The structure: each play was given a 3 minute presentation and then a vote was taken and tallied. Then the ranking was posted on the wall. I was sad but not surprised to see my favorite fourth to the bottom. My presentation was inadequate, but it wouldn’t have mattered. It had too many strikes against it just because of the kind of play it is (which is a kind of play I do not usually personally fancy either!).  I have a friend in Chicago who knows a guy who does plays about the Midwest; I think this play fits. Hopefully it will have a life somewhere. I think it certainly deserves one.

Then the discussions began, and I am convinced that this is why this group of mostly returning-readers dedicates five months of their time to reading for this festival: five hours of conversation about the strengths and weaknesses of plays that everyone in the room is familiar with. Beginning with the highest ranked, we discussed the pros and cons of each for ten minutes, often disagreeing but never arguing. Those who had worked with the playwrights discussed how they work and cope with the revision process. Fascinating conversations about what plays need to have a life now occurred. Compromises were made, and decisions were swayed. At midnight we voted again and plays that had been ranked in the late teens had crawled there way into the top ten. It was heartwarming.

Someone in the group said that if there were more producers and money in the world, all these plays would be done, and he is right. All of these plays had supporters. Each one of the final 24 has the potential to grow into something amazing. . . or at least really strong and pleasing to a certain demographic.

The final decision of what plays will be workshopped and seen in next summer’s festival will be made from the tallies we created as a group tonight: the staff of the theater will take our votes into account as they weigh in other factors including cost and availability. This is the right balance that I did not predict in my last post. Our opinions have great weight, but are not final, because at some point practicality has to come into play. I think this is how it should be, and shows a lovely amount of respect and trust.

So I guess that means its over for me until next year! What am I to do with my evenings now? Well, after a post a few weeks ago when I suggested I might not have ever had the opportunity (i.e. pressure) to read Pride and Prejudice I received a few comments (i.e. pressure) from friends more cultured than I. So I guess I have a date with Miss Bennet and Mr. Darcy.

Submitting your play to a new-works festival: some hopefully helpful hints (PART 4; Final Meeting: Before)

When I finish this post I will get on my bike with my laptop and an angelfood cake in my backpack and ride to Safeway because, despite my taste for simplicity when it comes to sweets, Rachel informs me that most people do not like angelfood cake toppingless. This is why, I figure, the angelfood cake itself only cost $1.99, whereas the surrounding condiments–mostly various fruit toppings–cost more: angelfood cake is just the vehicle.

From Safeway I will head to the final meeting of our new play festival selection process. On my computer are stored 24 scripts with 24 reports attached to them, and a ranking sheet showcasing my preferences as they stood two days ago a 1 p.m.; today they have shifted slightly, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they shifted again tomorrow. The 5 I would have in the festival. Then my top 10. Then the 20 that I wouldn’t argue against. And then the final 4 that I would probably make a fuss over before they got in. We got an email an hour ago telling us which plays we will be “presenting” to the group. Of the two I am to chaperone, one was no surprise. I pushed it this far, and I doubt it has the support it would need to go forward. We’ll see how well my debate skills have kept in the storage unit of my mind since I last used them on the high school mock trial team.

The other play I am defending is even trickier: I don’t even remember putting it in my top 10, but there it sits: #6? I am trying to replay the logic exercises I went through Sunday morning to compose this list: this play is great, but there is no real reason for it now; that play has a great concept, but the execution is too shaky for me to put my confidence in the playwright; this play would make an amazing staged reading, but a play? If we include this piece, then that piece doesn’t fit. . . And yet I don’t remember why I passed other plays by for this one, and I do not have a lot of time to figure it out. I am not encouraged by a note in my script report that reads, “I find myself trying to talk myself into this play. My first reaction was not ‘wow’, or maybe even ‘yes’ but it was certainly ‘maybe.’”

I am not sure what tonight has in store. I would imagine the judges who care the most and like to argue the most are going to win spots for their favorites. Those who are quieter and more amenable will likely compromise. I wonder if we vote? I wonder how much sway the artistic director has. Part of me wonders if it would have been easier for the readers to have been dismissed after we narrowed it down to the final 24, and leave the final cut to the staff of the theater. Well, no, I don’t really wonder: I am sure it would be easier. So then, is the point of this final meeting more for us than for the playwrights? We will see. I am off to buy strawberry sauce and whip cream.