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Keyword: ‘NEOMFA Playwright Festival’

Interview–Edward Albee

February 20th, 2008 No comments

I just finished reading the interview by Carol Rocamora of Edward Albee in last month’s American Theatre. There is, of course, very little I can say that is critical of Albee, after all, he’s a god. I can think of no greater movie-watching joy than that of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf staring Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. Such ruthless, terrible beauty is seldom seen. But, I thought I’d take some time to comment on some of what I read and some of the things that struck me.

Probably the greatest single thing that struck me from Albee was his statement that he doesn’t write drafts. He says, “No, I think you should write the entire play down the first time, and then fix it with a few touches here and there. You shouldn’t write it down until you think you have the whole play. Playwrights get in terrible trouble when they write a play too soon, and then hope that it finds its shape.” So, Albee lets the play swirl and swirl around in his head. As he comments, “A play begins as an idea translated from the unconscious to the conscious. You’ve been thinking about it a long time and creating it a long time before you’re even aware of it.” Now, there are some plays that I’ve written that I simply cannot imagine writing in one shot. Not even a question of one shot–that is, writing all in one sitting. That would require an exceptional stamina that I don’t think I have. I’ve written a play, not in one sitting, but as near to one sitting as I could muster–maybe a couple of days. But the play was a skeleton. It was bone thin. Air whipped through the ribcages and rattled the untethered jaw bone. I had to go back and “flesh” it out. Put some fat and skin on that sucker. Then I had to rework it after that. But, this is not to say that I don’t find merit in what Albee says. It is more than a simple abstraction. I know well what he means by “get in terrible trouble” and “hope that it finds its shape.” I’ve written plays where I have attempted to jigsaw out an ending and screw it on to the main part of the play I started, but didn’t finish right away.

I was struck by other things as well. First, I was struck by the fact that the “search of family and identity” is so important to him. I’m reviewing in my mind the plays I’ve read, and I haven’t even read his Pulitzer Prize plays…mostly his early ones. I can see in The American Dream and, of course, Who’s Afraid, the focus on family. And certainly in Zoo Story the concern with identity. I guess I’m surprised because my most recent play was very concerned with identity, too. Though, I’ve noticed a lot of religious and mythological creep in my plays–which is why I’m probably such a fan of Shepard. I was very surprised by Albee’s flat commentary on his adoptive parents. Clearly, he’s bitter about that and I can really see it now, in reflection, in thinking about what he said in this interview and the characterization of the mother and father in The American Dream. Further, that “identical twins” is a “theme that has haunted Albee since childhood.” Not because he had a twin that died early on in his life…but because he invented a twin for himself due to his being ignored by his adoptive parents.

I was curious about his foundation and will have to take a look at what that’s about and what it has to offer.

Albee commented that he would never extend a play to make it fit an “evening of theatre” nor would he intentionally shorten it for such an external reason. And then he described how he was workshopping a play of his in preparation for a performance, a three act play, and decided that it was running long and wasn’t working so he just cut the second act. Just cut a whole act. That is either great confidence or an amazing disrespect for what you’ve written. He made it almost sound flippant. Though, upon reflection, I doubt very much it was rashly decided.

It was refreshing to hear him state that “None of my 200 characters is me; all come through me, but I hope the have sufficient individuality.” Then, curiously, “I like to think my plays will not only heal me but also possibly others, that they have enough universality, that the writing of them is not a private act.” My plays will not only heal me… The plays somehow fill a void in him…make him complete. And, of course, to explore.

There are other things that are fascinating, from his interest in directing, to his belief that directing makes his understanding of playwriting greater, his belief in the possibility that all his plays add up to one big play, that non-profit theatres work best because they take risks and chances, the belief that big theaters and for-profit theaters are escapist and pander (one of the things I am always in disbelief of is when I attend Stratford Festival plays and plays at the Shaw Festival how many people–including my mother, aunts, etc., attend musicals), and finally, his shot at MFA programs: which of course, I’m throughly in. However, I think it depends on the program and what that program intends, as I’ve mentioned before, such as in my talk with Theatrically Speaking. The MFA program I’m in at CSU is more focused on writing, workshopping, and getting into theaters–and Mike Geither, whose praises I cannot sing enough, is a fiercely dedicated proponent of this and works tirelessly to get young playwrights into theaters and has been instrumental in my own involvement in convergence-continuuum.

A good, general interview of Albee. Worth a look if you’re a fan.

Staged Reading

October 18th, 2007 No comments

I have a staged reading coming up on November 7th at Cleveland Public Theatre and I’m trying to get a sense of how I should feel about this. A part of me is excited and proud. Part of me is highly skeptical.

Four years ago I entered the Masters program at Cleveland State University not really knowing what I wanted to do. I was a medical librarian at Rainbow Babies and Children’s Hospital. I was a webmaster and manager of video teleconferencing. I was to appearances successful and very busy. But something wasn’t right and I looked back to the interests that my ‘true’ self had. I always remark on the quote by Joseph Campbell that has become somewhat cliche by now, that each of us should follow his/her bliss. [amazon_link id=”0060926171″ target=”_blank” ]Campbell[/amazon_link] said that people try to change the world by moving the pieces around–this is just, this is unjust; this is not equal; this person makes too much money; this person doesn’t make enough; this is evil, etc. But Campbell firmly stated that moving the pieces around doesn’t lead to a world that is vital; that any world is a living world regardless of how the pieces are arranged. To be truly happy in this world you must do what it is that makes you happy. If you do this, and it is never easy to do it, you will become energized and vital. You will come alive. And he said that ‘a vital person vitalizes’ the world. One vital person makes the world resonate and live. Think what a world of people vitalized would do. This is by way of saying that I was anything but vitalized at the time. I felt like I did when I was on the playground in third or fourth grade and looked off to the horizon and wished devoutly that I was any place but on a playground in third/fourth grade.

A year after entering the master’s program at CSU (so, three years ago) I decided that I wanted to write plays. So, I picked up a book and started reading how to do it. A year later, I was in the NEOMFA program on a playwriting track and had already had a play staged. Then it was another play. Then I was working on a play with a group of playwrights for the Ingenuity Festival. And now I’ve got a staged reading.

Things have moved fast and I guess I should be proud. Four years ago I was unsure what I wanted to accomplish, and now I’ve got a reading at a theater I could barely comprehend in 2003; let alone be heard in.

In 2003, I had the first act of a play that I had written in 1995 stuffed in a drawer or a box. In 2007, I have nine finished plays and a solid idea for the tenth and a strong feeling of momentum moving me toward a solid path. So, why am I trying to convince myself? I feel, sometimes, that I am too old. I look at Shepard who was successful by 21 or so. Then I think, what do I have to say? A librarian working in a university with a pregnant wife, a daughter, three cats, two cars and a mortgage. Who am I to talk about the mysteries of life? Who am I to dramatize anything at all? And on a more personal level, what is this voice that keeps trying to burst out from my head and scrawl itself all over lined pages and computer screens? Is it my true voice? Is it the devil? Is it a fraud? Should I trust it or should I even listen to it?

I’ve been through the play development process before; several times. I should be used to it. But somehow, now, it seems to be on another level. I feel that I am no longer in the realm of students, but in the realm of professionals–people who are committed and dedicated. People whose time I am wasting if my stuff is no good. That my smirking inner voice (the other inner voice) needs to shut up, pay attention, and have some respect for the sacred path I’m walking onto.

I’m reminded of the post from Intermission that I discussed earlier. My in laws will be coming to this reading. What do they think of all this? Is their son-in-law just wasting his time? Is it a nice little hobby that he has? Is this even a fair characterization? What is serious in this world? What should be taken seriously and what derided? There are young men and women dying each day in a foreign land for an ideal that is as ineffable as a puff of air and yet as strong and binding as coils of steel wire. And I worry about a staged reading or my future success as a playwright. Is this valid? Is it indulgent?

The only leg I can find to stand on, again, is that formed by the words of [amazon_link id=”1577315936″ target=”_blank” ]Joseph Campbell[/amazon_link]. His insistence that each of us must live the life that makes us feel alive: vital.

This is sacred. This is important. Perhaps the only thing there is. And in this, I can find consolation.