my first premiere

Last night was the premiere of my play "Cleaver" at the Renaissance Guild in San Antonio, TX. OMG, ya'll. Words cannot describe how proud I am! During the introduction, the MC said "What can I say about this play? It's quirky, it's different...and in keeping with the theme of new beginnings, sometimes new beginnings have a way of finding you- and not in a good way". That made me nervous because when she said "what can I say about..." I thought it was a slam, but I miscalculated (as is my wont).

The actors were incredible! The guy who played the father "Ross" delivered the lines so beautifully; he had the audience rolling. Oh yes, they were laughing. Complete strangers were laughing at something that I'd written. I can't begin to tell you how validating that felt. The "Cleaver" gets the award for best actor, though. HANDS DOWN. He had that laugh and the cough that was just comic genius. The funny thing was that I wrote in the cough, but not the maniacal laugh. The combination of the two was perfect.

The director must have had a direct pipeline into my mind because he directed it so very well. After the show, he was very gracious and wonderful. Not at all your regular "theatre person". During the Q&A at the end, I believe I held my own although I probably could have answered some questions better. But I was under flood lights and worried if my feet were ashy in my cute sandals.

After the Q&A was the weirdest, though. Ya'll, people were coming up to me telling me how great it was. People who weren't related to me were telling me how they loved it- the actors, fellow writers, lots of people! I got phone numbers, email addresses, business cards and even invites to collaborate on future projects. My head is still spinning from all the love.

I need to pick up a paper this morning to see if there's a review (last year there was). But even if there is no review, it won't change the way I feel. Baby, I'm a star.

the new house and other catch-ups

Okay- so our first offer wasn't accepted by the Greedy Guss' in Dallas, but it wasn't a problem. We put in an offer on the second house and it was accepted within a couple of hours! So, we close in the early part of next month. In the meantime, I'm trying to keep focused on writing and marketing my writing. It's difficult when the business of moving continues to happen around you, but I keep telling myself that these hectic days are almost behind me.

I never did get back to Bad Joke, you know. That play will continue to taunt me until well after my Golden Globe and Oscar. Hey, maybe I'll get famous like Stephen King and sell the draft on eBay. :-)

Mighty Epiphany

While poring over my disco play, I had an epiphany. See, in writing this play, I had a nebulous idea that involved a lot of smaller theme particles orbiting these four characters. Ayway, I was so enamored by the ten minute play format (I had just discovered this format for myself, mind) that I was trying to shoe-horn the entire story- themes, particles and all- into ten minutes with minimal regard paid to character development. As a result, as my sister noted, Chip's character remained unexplored. As I continued reading my "Elements of Playwriting" book (if you write plays, you need this book), I noticed that Dot and Chip's "relationship" didn't arc. That is, they didn't begin at odds with each other and travel along the same relationship line like the Senator and Sparkle.

So, I've scrapped the idea of trying to fit it into a neat ten minutes and focused on exploring Dot and Chip as a unit. I mean, the framework for their relationship was there, but it was me not willing and/or able to flesh it out on the page. So, I wrote out my notes and need to get onto my computer (dead battery and all) to make the revisions.

Can't remember if I told you this, but I'm going to write a coffee shop play for the Los Angeles contest. I fully do not expect to win. It's like that whole Night Gallery/ Rod Serling play (I didn't get into that one, either). You don't expect to win, but it's a fun writing prompt And if I win, well, it's another play in my repetoire, right?

Gotta go and get started on the coffee play...

redundancy breeds contempt

There comes a time in every parent's life when they realize they are no longer needed by their children. Usually this happens sometime between the license to drive and the license to wed. Mine happened somewhere between ages 7 and 8.

I had no idea that I had been made redundant (as the English put it) until we went on a family walk. My son brought up the Death Penalty as his chosen topic of conversation. He and my husband talked at length about this cheery subject until at the end, my husband asks, "So how do you know about the Death Penalty"? Instead of the bastard saying "My loving, intelligent mother", he just hooked a thumb at me as if to say "That old broad". My husband says, "Mom's a wealth of information". And my little bastard rolls his eyes and says "Yeah, but she doesn't know anything about Black Holes". While Little Bastard and Big Bastard launched into a conversation about black holes, space and all things "cool", I was left wondering "What DO I know?" The answer? Nothing that my son cares about.

This morning, I woke up angry. Since the packers have taken 90% of our personal belongings, I'm sleeping on an air mattress in the middle of a very chilly living room. Anyway, I woke up angry and congested only to hear my husband and his loving son going over his homework from the night before. Pa-Leeze! We all know you're bucking for Parent of the Freaking Year, no need to rub it in my allergy-reddened face, all right? Nowadays, my son goes to his dad for everything and I'm left out in the cold. Well, fuck em both. They can have their perfect little life without me. I would say "See how far they get", but apparently they've gotten this far without my help. I know when I'm not wanted. I know when I've been made redundant. This is me, stuffing my personal effects and all the cool shit I don't know into a cardboard box and heading for the elevators for the last time.

the baddest joke

Here we are today: The greedy sons of b*tches didn't take our first offer. As it turns out, they believe they can get more for the house than what we were offering. I understand this. As a licensed agent, I understand that sellers are still feeling themselves when they're less than 30 days on the market. Never fear, though. We've already written an offer on our backup property and it will be delivered today.

Yesterday was my first day away from the office and it was fantastic! The whole day was spent writing, watching old DVR shows and playing DS. Today my replacement text'd me four times with stupid questions. Lemme tell ya- he's the one they hired to do my job (and at a 10% increase, no less!), so he can sit in the hot seat and figure the shit out himself. I'm chillin'.

I never got around to Bad Joke yesterday. "Bad Joke" is a play about what happens when a group of plumbers, along with the bartender, are stranded by a midwestern snowstorm and find out that they are sleeping with each other's wives. The "bad joke" is that they're all in costume from a Halloween party. At the beginning, a rabbi, priest and Indian Chief walk into the bar. Then the light blows out and they have to change the light ("how many plumbers does it take to change a lightbulb?"). At the end, a man dressed as a horse walks in and asks the bartender "Why the long face?" It's cheesy and probably the reason I haven't finished it.

My husband just came in and asked me if I wanted to go to the gym. I think he knows I'm getting chunky and soft like a cookie (hey, chocolate chip nookie!), but doesn't want to say anything for fear of offense. Well, ha! You may as well say it, Plucky, 'cuz I'm offended already.

live from Dallas...it's Saturday night!

Yesterday was pretty uneventful- the last day at work, took me out to lunch, went home, yadda-ya. The real fun began this morning when my husband and I got up at the ass-crack of dawn to fly down to Dallas to find the home and put an offer in. We found a home and will make the offer tomorrow. Unfortunately, the house has only been on the market for 12 days, so they may not take our lowball-but-not-quite-insulting offer. I'll let you know tomorrow.

While on the plane, I finished the first draft of my priest play. Right now it's being called "Confession Session" but you'd better believe that's gonna change. I personally don't like that title, but I needed a title under which to save the file. I was feeling pretty cocky, too- fleshed out the main character, humanized the priest and everything. We got back to the hotel and I pulled out my laptop all ready to be productive when I realize that I left my thumb drive with the file at home. Grrr! I'm still awake, so I guess I'll work on Bad Joke. Oh yes, Bad Joke is still floating out there unfinished and mocking me. Bad Joke. Ha! There was never a more appropriate title for a piece.

Well, tomorrow is writing up an offer in the morning and city exploration for the rest of the afternoon. I'll let you know how it all turns out.

nude ravings

So earlier this morning (it's 6:22am now), I checked my email and- lo and behold! -I received confirmation from New Mexico that I do indeed suck and hadn't made the cut to the final round. In a fit of anger, I stripped off every stitch of clothing (robe) and planted myself on the toilet, naked and pissed, never to get up. Although, I've been here for ten minutes and I'm starting to get bored. ResoIved: I might get up after I squeeze out a poo, but as for now, I'm staying put. I cannot decide if my toilet stance is an act of defiance, some kind of performance art/pout or just plain laziness...

Last night I worked a little on my "Psyc" spec script. True to form, I fell right asleep at the keyboard, but it was fun waking up this morning and reading what I'd written. Not necessarily funny, but wildly entertaining.

Today is my second to last day at work, so I'm volunteering for our annual golf tourney just to get out of the office. I've got eighteen more hours at this job and then I'm free. Free to do what I want/ any old time!

Back to writing news, today is my meeting with the plantation folks about the script. I'm curious to see what they'll say. Although, the shit is already written and I'm none too keen to re-write. I also received an email from my local theatre bastards. As it turns out, they are soliciting scripts for their weekend of One-Acts this year! Well, since the ol' "Potty Mouth" didn't make it in New Mexico, I'm gonna try my luck in good ol' Asspit, USA. All I can do is try, right?

Did I say luv? I meant a stiff pole up the hole

Today the winners for the New Mexico contest (not the finalist, the honest-to-Job winners) were supposed to be notified, but guess who hasn't been emailed? That's right. Your friendly neighborhood chocolate toad in the hole. Yup. No love for the Potty Mouth. I'm feeling sorry for myself, but not just because I didn't get into this festival. Hell, I've only been accepted into one festival so far, so I'm no stranger to rejection. What scares me is that I have peaked.

The idea of peaking scares the shit out of me. It's much worse than being eaten alive by a giant octopus. When you're in the water and you see that humungous head lurching toward you, you pretty much know it's curtains. But when you achieve a little creative success, the victory is short. The next few hours, days, years even, are spent hustling for that next success. Because you know in the back of your mind that if you don't hustle for that next break, it's not going to come and you're going to be fifty years old sitting on an upturned bucket talking about how you used to be the shit. I don't want a bucket. I want a career.

This year has been fantastic. It's only May and I've had a short film produced, having my first stage play premiere in two weeks and wrote the script for the living theatre/plantation project. I admit, things could be worse. But what if this is it? It's a pretty varied body of work, but is it enough? I can't live knowing that I could have/should have done more. I guess the bigger question is: CAN I do more? Am I capable? I really, really hope so. I hope I haven't hit my ceiling. Not before "Damn Tracy" hits the air.

Sidebar: I'm watching the Celtics play the Cavaliers and Kevin Garnett looks like Mr. Hanky. A big giant black turd in a headband. Hidey-ho!

Potty Mouth gets luv from New Mexico

What a way to start the morning! I log into my yahoo, all prepped to delete all the emails promising me a full head of hair and/or a longer penis, when I see this:

"It is with great pleasure that I am able to convey to you our organization's congratulations on your script, "Potty Mouth", being chosen as one of the finalists for the annual short play festival, "The Seven: Something Left Unsaid".

This year 420 scripts have been received from 41 states and 6 countries.

The final scripts are now being sent to our jurors around the country. We will be receiving their results and notifying the winning Seven on May 14th.

In the meantime, please forward a bio, headshot, and any other information you feel is pertinent to your play to this e-mail address. We will be in heavy festival promotion mode beginning next week and this requested information is vital.

Once again, a very heartful CONGRATULATIONS from all of us here at FUSION.
We wish you the best of luck in the final jury process.

Kind Regards,

dg"


Yay! Finalist, ya'll! You can't beat that with a stick, right? Even if I don't make it to the winner's circle, my play stuck out from 420 others. I'm glowing right now. Positively glowing.

time goes on with or without you

At present, I'm laying in bed trying desperately not to face the day. I have too much stuff to do today, from getting a pedicure to finishing packing (the movers show up tomorrow morning). But there's a part of me that says if I just lay here and bang away at the keyboard, then somehow time will slow up or even stop to fit my needs. If only that were true. No matter if I drag myself to the salon, if I lay here avoiding life, time will go on. I'm learning- slowly but surely- that Time is like the German S Bahn. It will pull from the platform exactly as scheduled, regardless if you're in your seat or not. It's your choice to be prepared or not.

To that end, ladies and gentlemen, I'm gonna face the day. I don't want to, but the only thing worse than facing a day you're dreading is facing the consequences of avoiding that day.

If this doesn't make sense, no worries. It's one of those blogs I'm purely writing for self.