Solo Journey--3.5 weeks left...

...and I am still trying to decide what to perform. I've come up with an idea I love though, which is to perform 3 vignettes and weave them through the show. The other three performers are doing a solid 15 to 20 minute piece, and while I could do that, I like the idea of doing a 5 minute piece before  each of their spots weaving their characters into each of my vignettes. For example, S is doing a powerful monologue about a mobster who is in torment (based on S's real life stuff). He owns a bar near an airport. I could mention the bar in my piece, like:
"I had a long layover so I escaped the airport and went to this club down the street, owned by this old-school mobster looking guy..." After my vignette, Steve would come on and open a larger window into the life of this mobster I just touched upon.

R actually has a Guinea pig in his piece. I could mention seeing a guy with a pet carrier holding a guinea pig, of all things, at the airport. R comes on and opens a window into the life of this man with a guinea pig, etc.


I don't know what A's doing yet, but easy to put her into a scene. What I love about this idea is that it would create a tapestry of stories all intertwined and connected.

We'll see if my peeps go for it!

Here's a vignette I may use:

Narrator: I get up at 3:45 am to catch a flight from SJC to Montana for business.  After security, I head to the women’s room to put myself together. They’ve added mood lighting which makes it harder to see. Bleary eyed and squinting into the mirror, I’m trying to put eyeliner on in a straight line when a woman enters, and sighs loudly.

She's got this dark mane of windblown hair. She’s staring right at me, .

Narrator: Yeah?

Woman: Too early

 Narrator: No kidding

Narrator: She has that ageless beauty Asian women have. She could be thirty, she could be sixty. She’s wearing a bunch of layers—scarf, coat, skirt. She’s wearing  coffee colored pantyhose and open toed sandals, a style typically reserved for elderly women or foreigners.

There’s tons of counter space at SJC this time of morning. I mean, like 10 sinks with space at either end.

She lines up right next to me, like two inches away and starts piling her hair atop her head

Woman: Where you going?

Narrator: Seattle. Then on to Montana

Woman: Like me. We travel together

Narrator : Oh, you too? (Take out a mascara wand and stifle a yawn)

Woman: You tired. You sleep on the plane

Narrator: That’s my plan

Narrator: She’s two inches away, and while it’s invasive, it’s also comforting because how many times have I stood this close to other women-- my sister, girlfriends or my daughters, put on make-up laughing, talking or just being together in companionable silence? ( finish up )

Narrator: Well, safe flight!

Woman: (laughs) Safe flight for me mean safe flight for you too!

Narrator: (laughs) True…

Narrator : And I’m back in the glaring lights and bustle of the airport, timeless like my new friend. It might be now, it might be fifty years ago. I board a packed plane—big--, 6 seats to each row.  I find my assigned seat, close my eyes, open them again when I hear a stir of activity. It’s her. The same woman, now impeccably dressed, wedging what she can into the overhead before she finds her seat in the middle. Right next to me.

Narrator: Well, isn’t this a coincidence

Narrator : There are no coincidences, says my Native American friend. I know all kinds of people who would read something into this. I mean, this is Santa Cruz, right? Is there anyone who hasn’t at least heard of the Celestine Prophesies?

Maybe she’s an angel. Maybe she has a message for you.

(Note: The following will be edited, but captures what I want to convey)

Narrator : I am less a believer than a non-believer in this but I cannot take that leap of unfaith that rules out the possibility of magic on earth that rules out the possibility of a spiritual element bustling just under the surface of the real world. And something about travel, not the arriving, but the actual travel—airplanes, airports makes it seem more possible somehow. Maybe it’s inhaling the recirculated  air saturated with floating particles of hope and promise that the destination of all of these people holds. Sunset on a tropical beach, a signed contract after a presentation , lingering kiss of a long-lost love,.

As coincidences go though, I’m not entirely thrilled with this one.  Because we’ve connected now, this woman and I.  I feel obligated to be a good companion for the next two hours But I’m tired and I’ve got 7 hours of travel ahead of me before I have to meet with a group of hostile nurses.

Narrator : Do you live in Seattle?

Woman: (Nods and puts her finger to her lips) Shhhh.  You tired. You sleep now.

Narrator: The message will have to wait. The plane taxis forward and I fall asleep to the sound of her chatting with the woman on her right. About life in Canada where her neighbors worry because she’s so tiny they can’t see her when the snow rises above five feet. I drift back in and they’re still chatting. About Vietnam where she has an estate to settle as the eldest of six siblings

I drift out. Wake up just before we land. She’s looking at me intently.

Woman: You sleep good, huh. You tired.

Narrator: Yes. Did I snore?

I sometimes do on planes. Awake with a snort which is such an embarrassing and intimate thing to do among strangers

Woman: No. You worry too much. Don’t worry!

Narrator: I help her reach her bags and that’s it. No message.

Six hours later I arrive at my hotel early. I look at my bed, at the fluffy white pillows and cool, crisp sheets. I should review my notes on the training. I should…

Woman’s voice: Shhhhh. You  tired. You sleep now. Don’t worry.

I climb between the sheets fall asleep and dream of a windblown angel so tiny she almost disappears when the clouds rise up to meet the sun.

Solo Journey Days...whatever to whatever...

I had a brother-in-law who used to have conversations with others that consisted mostly of him asking questions of himself, which he would then answer:
"Did I make it to my daughter's medical appointment?"
"No I did not."
"Have I been working my ass off for this family?'
"Yes I have."
"Do I get credit for working my ass off for this family?"
"No I do not."
Thus the past-tense reference to the man.

In the same spirit, however:
"Have I remotely stuck to my original (bi-polar episode induced) schedule?"
 "No I have not."
 "Have I done anything at all in the past week?"
"Yes, I have."
"Am I starting my typical freak-out?"
"Affirmative."

OK, that sort of questioning only takes you so far.


I have been writing and have made some progress, but not as far along as I wanted to be. I've had a lot of (paid) work thrown my way which means more travel and less time, but also means more material. 


I went to improv at the Fun Institute last week. It was amazing.There's a quote by someone about the more you live, the bigger your world becomes. Attending improv made me aware of yet another incredible, supportive community of people who get together once a week (at least) to play and create art ON THE SPOT. That's one of the magical aspects of improv. The same heart-filled moments that take your breath away during a solo-show are created in-the-moment.
In The Moment being the operative element. Being present. 
I left feeling happy and euphoric and proud for facing my fears. Also feeling like I'd discovered more members of my tribe--one of whom made it her job to encourage me to jump with her into each exercise. She was experienced and a member of a performing troupe of improvisers, so the fact that she spent time on a newbie was incredibly generous.
Another thing: Being on stage with supportive (mostly) strangers in the audience, made the idea of creating and performing a solo-piece seem less daunting. 

Spent  the weekend with a good friend. We shared our work, hiked, walked and shared some more. Writing with her made time fly.

So I have a month as of tomorrow. 


Time to rock and roll!

"Am I scared?"
"Yes I am."
"Does life begin at the end of your comfort zone?"
"Yes, according to Neale Donald Walsh, it does."

Solo Journey Days 4 and 5

Off to care for my sick daughter and her family tonight. Will write (next to a sleeping kindergartner) when I get there, but not a lot of time now.
Worked with Steve and Rick of More Like Laurie for about four hours yesterday.
It was so great to bounce ideas off of one another. Love what they're doing and got some really great ideas from both of them on what I'm working on. May take the piece in a new direction as a result which is exciting. Left Steve's feeling inspired and supported.
Missed Miss Alex who's in Chicago at the moment, writing away!
Improv tomorrow!

Here's a quote left on an email from Dixie of The Fun Institute which is just so...Dixie:

"I've always been crazy but it's kept me from going insane."

                        -Waylon Jennings

 

Solo Journey Days Two and Three

Yep. Doing it!

Just allowing myself to meander while I write has taken an enormous amount of stress off. I mean, I know this. That's what the whole "Moodling" idea is about, yet  I keep saddling myself with this idea that "real" writers have a structured practice where they sit down, focus and write. They only stop to add hot water to their tea, or get another cup of coffee. But even then, they are formulating sentences in their minds that they capture as soon as they return to the keyboard, which they do eagerly and without delay.
Some do, I'm sure.
I'm not one of them.

It is impossible to discourage the real writers - they don't give a damn what you say, they're going to write.--Sinclair Lewis

Real writers are those who want to write, need to write, have to write.--Robert Penn Warren
 

The real writer is one who really writes. Talent is an invention like phlogiston after the fact of fire. Work is its own cure. You have to like it better than being loved.--Marge Piercy

Yes and also...Whatever.
Who decides what a real writer does or doesn't do?

A word is not the same with one writer as with another.  One tears it from his guts.  The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket.  ~Charles Peguy

Speaking of stories:

Act three of This American Life was gut-wrenching today.
Find it Here


Back to the script!

Solo Journey Day One

 "A writer is working when he's staring out of the window." Burton Rascoe

So....

Woke up sick. No vocal exercises, no work-out, but I wrote for two and a half hours. OK, that doesn't mean actually wrote non-stop. My writing goes like this:

1. Write a sentence
2. Fact check on Google
3. While fact checking, research whether or not Gloria Allred is representing John Travolta's accusers and whether or not more accusers have come forward
4. Tweak a sentence
5. Stare at the page
6. Wish my ex-stepdaughter "Happy Birthday" on Facebook
7. Make some tea
8. Give myself a small lecture on my lack of focus
9. Stare at the page
10. Rewrite a critical moment in the middle of the piece
11. Read it aloud
12. Research sound cues for the critical moment which include an audio of a human heartbeat
13. Consider a Native American drumbeat as well as a heartbeat
14. Listen to and download samples of both
15. Eat some blueberries
16. Eat some almonds
17. Make a genius move on Words With Friends
18. Stare at the page
19. Rewrite the ending to include revelations I had the day after my first performance
20. Read aloud
21. Feel satisfied
22. Feel unsure
23. Email Shalom, Ellen Bass's assistant and beg to rejoin my old writing group
24. Take out a sentence
25. And so on

I've decided to accept that this is my process (see quote at top of page). What's important is that I've set aside time and actually faced the page.

More things that help: 

Snap Judgement: Storytelling with a Beat 

Download weekly podcast on i-tunes

( check out episode #217 Drama Momma here) 

Told live in Oakland

WTF with Marc Maron

(also available on i-tunes) 

At first I thought this guy, Marc Maron, was just an obnoxious ranter, but he does some really in-depth interviews with performers that cut right to the heart of things.

 I am now an unapologetic Fuckaneer. 

Solo Journey Prep

My plan for the next forty days is this:

Completely revamp my life

The problem is, I come up with this exact same plan every week. And I get excited because-- imagine how much I could accomplish, if, like my friend E-- I schedule every bit of my day and follow the schedule to the letter.
At least that's what I thought E did. She emailed me once, in advance of a visit to ask when and where and for how long. She apologized for being so structured, but said that was the only way she could function.
I wrote her today to ask for advice on exactly how to be like her.
She wondered if I had mixed her up with someone else.
"I constantly feel behind," she said.
It cracked her up that I thought she was someone who could teach me about organization.

The truth is, I know a ton about scheduling and organizing and I do it very well in my business life. But when it's me holding myself accountable to...me, I'm a slacker. 

Which is part of the reason I'm blogging.

What I'm going to try, starting tomorrow is to dedicate a minimum of 2.5 hours daily to the solo-pieces I'll be performing in July.  I'm not talking nose-to-the-grindstone all of the time. 30 minutes of that will be doing vocal exercises as I get ready for work, or do housework, or drive (avoiding the staccato exercises that can make me light-headed). I really like Ariella Vaccarino . Let me know if there are other downloadable Mp3s you'd recommend.

45 minutes will be combined with my daily walk/run where I'll also be listening to a current recording of the piece I'm working on (I record the entire piece in a monotonous voice so that when performing I don't fall into a groove and recite the script rather than feel it ((Ann Randolph's advice)). I carry a little recorder to note ideas that come to me while I work out. I'm sure I look completely nuts running and talking to myself, slowing down every-so-often to speak into a handheld device, but I live in the Santa Cruz Mountains next to a woman who posts signs warning people that the DEA is recording the license plate numbers on everyone who drives past her house, and an old man who lurks behind trees with a shotgun aimed at anyone who walks their dog off-leash, sooo I'm in good company).

That leaves an hour and fifteen minutes to write and move through the piece. This time, instead of writing until it's 'perfect' and then adding movement, I'm going to write on my feet. 

In addition, I'm going to go to take drop-in improv classes at The Fun Institute  which are terrifying and fun and will make me very brave.

AND

Rehearse with my troupe starting this Sunday.

AND

Work with a director in two weeks when I should be off-book.

Here's something else that helps:

In order to be a great artist you have to be willing to be a bad one -- Julie Cameron The Artist's Way

(Thanks, K!)

Tomorrow is day one. See you then.

xo

Solo Journey

So many cobwebs on this page it's hard to find a space to write!
It's been a while. I've been busy. I wrote and performed a 20 minute piece at The Marsh a couple of weeks ago. 

In the time leading up to the show I went all kinds of crazy.

There were a lot of reasons behind the craziness. I had to let my writing group go awhile. And my solo performing group has disbanded for now. And I worked with the very brilliant David Ford who is amazing and gifted and ...quiet and a little intimidating for me.

I realized I'm kind of a basket case without my core support family of artists. I realized I still need hand-holding and outside validation and reassurance. I realized I freak out more than I actually work on my "art" (in quotes, not because it's not really my art, but calling it "my art" sounds pretentious).

This time I didn't have a clear idea of the meaning of the piece--for me personally or for my audience. Because I was so stressed and insecure I circled around the meaning without really closing in on  it until the day before the show. The day after the show I closed in a little more.

The piece I ended up doing was serious without much comic relief. One of the characters I portrayed was very much like me and I had find to ways in which we were different, blow them up without making a caricature of her.

I kept editing and writing and editing and writing and didn't do as much rehearsing as I should have because editing and writing are much less creepy and terrifying than acting alone in my living room. Than filming myself acting alone in my living room. Than watching myself on film acting alone in my living room.

The performance went well. I got lots of good feedback from strangers and my family and  from my lovely group of supportive friends--many of whom are performers accompanying me on this journey.
And from David who accused me of being way too much of a perfectionist when I told him I hadn't nailed one of the characters.

The whole perfectionism thing has worn out its welcome. Seriously. This is what's at the root of my craziness and fear.
Here's what helped me:

This quote (passed along just yesterday by Xiaojuan Shu--an up-and-coming solo-artist whose work I love):
"Talent is a long patience and originality an effort of will and observation."--Flaubert

And this, by the fabulous Ira Glass
http://vimeo.com/24715531 

And this, from Eric Fischbien, a performer I've yet to meet or see in person. He posted this on FB in response  to a question about how people deal with pre-show jitters, butterflies:

"I really internalized that as a performer you must accept that you cannot deliver a great play if you are not willing to go out and deliver something less than perfect, less than it will eventually be. I thought of artists who I love, and some of the lesser things they have done and realized that if in the event it doesn't get quite the reception I was hoping for, that it's all part of a process. Really embrace that, and then step out on stage and have some fun!"

Some great stuff, right?

So here's the deal:

I have about six weeks to finish writing a new piece and to get it on its feet for the Santa Cruz Fringe Festival. 

I know I can I do it but I want to do it without the anguish. 

I know I can't eliminate all of the suffering. I also know that some of the chaos and craziness is actually good and part of how art is born. 

But I want madness in moderation. 

I have a plan I'll share with you tomorrow.

Sweet Dreams!