The making of a spectacular two-woman show

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Creative?

I spend so much of my time thinking scientifically. My brain is filled with statistics and research ideas and methodology...which is great. It is what my brain needs to be filled with in order to succeed in graduate school and my eventual career. I need to think like a psychologist and a scientist, even if I want to someday be a consultant.

Furthermore, I LIKE thinking that way. It feels so productive and right. I am a problem solver, I like to figure things out. I love psychology. This is the right path for me.

But lately, I know something is missing. I know I need to be more creative in my everyday life, whether that means managing my time better to include sewing, knitting, writing, playwriting...I don't know. It seems to me like the creative process takes such a long time, and like I need to gear up for it.

What I really need to do is jump in. This summer will be amazing, I know it. I want us to write down everything we think might be good, without discussing the hell out of it first. I want to dive in and be unafraid of the product being bad. I want to get the creative juices flowing and feel whole again.

It's only a couple of months off. I feel it.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Also?

We're 25 now. Just for the record.

So it ain't boring

I saw A Child's History of Bombing last weekend, and it was a really cool two-person show. But lemme tell you. I realized how tedious it can be to have the same two people onstage the whole time (even wonderful people like Greg and Donovan), especially when they are telling stories and not acting/improvising huge scenes. So their production was definitely spiced up by the addition of video, SLIDES and burning some selected things in glass bowls. I vote that we steal these ideas mercilessly. It also worked because they switched "modes" a lot, between storytelling, speeches & facts from others, being really emotional, really excited, really serious, really funny. So. Just some thoughts. It's important, with our concept, to keep it interesting, I think. Also, we clearly have short attention spans, so we should cater to our own easily distracted selves and keep it movin'.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

New Plan

Holy moly. It has been over NINE MONTHS since we wrote anything here!

But Lindsay has been writing actual things for the play, and I...well, I haven't. But I should! I am thinking that maybe Linz and I can have coffee once a week down at school and maybe use that time strictly for play stuff. Or for catching up, because it feels like we hardly see each other anymore. Such is the craziness of life.

And there is a new plan: I will take one last summer away from an office job, and will instead wait tables, so I can focus on being creative. Focus on creating something. Linz will also work only minimally, so we will spend a lot of time together (easy, because all our other friends have jobs!) and write write write. I am sure that there will be days where we do more hanging out than writing, and days when we will barf at the sight of each other, but I hope that we can also write things down. Write EVERYTHING down. And in that giant summer-long freewriting will be the truth of our play. Of our lives.

Then we can move on. Editing, rewriting, finding a director, casting, finding a venue, putting it up. But for now, because all of those things cause me to hyperventilate a little, we'll just write. It is the first step, and the most important, and will be fun. I will MAKE it be fun, dammit!

I can't wait for summer.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Game On.

Yo, peeps. The play project is back on. We're working again, in the beginning stages at least, and feeling more optimistic. Woo!

Wish us luck.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

About last night

Class last night was really helpful; a few key things clicked into place. Teacher Jeff asked: "What are you trying to say, with this play?" We replied, that "it's hard but it's worth it..." One classmate commented, "What's the other side of the coin? Suicide?" And I was really confused for a second, but it did snap things into place. Now is the time when we're making so many choices, choices choices. Why did we choose this road instead of an easier one?

Also, Jeff told us to just start writing. That's probably the best advice we've gotten. Just get stuff out, and we can edit and make stuff pretty and rearrange and (like Deanna said) find meaning later. It'll come out organically, I have faith. We just gotta go.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

A life examined

"Personal narratives are only interesting and useful when there is some more universal meaning attached. Which means you have to examine your life, your prejudices, your actions first. If you still can’t make sense of something in your experience, why share it with a crowd? This isn’t therapy, this is art and performance, and improvised or not, you must think, or have thought, first about what you have to say. That sort of performance is better suited for that other confessional medium- the talk show. The audience comes for inspiration, enlightenment, not to analyze the performer. If the unexamined life is not worth living, it is certainly not worth staging. Unless there are flying chairs involved." -- Shannon Manning

Sunday, February 20, 2005

Crisis Averted

Linz and I talked out the issues at hand, and appear to have come to a resolution. That's right people, we're back on track!

Once again, we've modified the class homework to fit our own needs, and this week that means writing monologues. We had originally decided to work on the "running scenes" for class because they more closely match the screenplay/dialogue structure of most of our classmates. However, getting any decisions made or any work done was like pulling teeth.

So I suggested that, in order to get SOMETHING moving, we might should start with monologues. So that's what we're doing. Writing 5 monologues each for tomorrow night.

Hey, Linz, I just had an idea about the monologues. I'm thinking as I write, so it's really just the first inkling of a brainstorm. So we're currently looking at 2-minute monologues, right? Well, I'm working on one about "faking it," and I'm not sure there are 2 minutes worth of things to say about it. What if we considered doing shorter monologues, but maybe doing more of them in order to keep the length of the show?

I'm overtired and talking out of my ass. Does this make sense? Anyone? Bueller?

Thursday, February 17, 2005

What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Stronger

Or so we hope. Linz and I are having some troubled times, people. I think all the frustration with the process is finally coming to a head, and it sucks. I'm frustrated with myself, and frustrated with the process, and I'm taking it out on her. Totally shitty, I know.

Linz, if you want me to delete this post, I will.

I just wanted to say. . .I'm sorry. You apologized for being "nonhelpful and sort of mean," but I didn't apologize yet. I realized that last night. But I am. Sorry, that is. For being obstinate and bratty and also sort of mean. I'm a jerkface sometimes, as it turns out.

Love you, girlie. We may have further to melt down before we rebuild, but we will. Promise.

--Becca

Monday, February 14, 2005

We are writing

We are writing! We are. We are. We are. We are putting actual dialogue onto actual paper. It is semi-miraculous and very hard but very fun.

Another semi-autobiographical play by a 24 year-old

This one has a more serious subject. But it does have monologues, bits and video.

One review.

A write-up in the Vancouver Courier:
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Being Inside is based on Joseph Baker’s experience of having a father suffering from dementia and how it has affected his family.
Son’s labour of love comes to life
By Fiona Hughes

An average teen living in his own world, Joseph Baker didn’t take much notice when his dad started showing early signs of dementia. The 15-year-old Surrey resident had other things on his mind—school, friends and surviving the teen years.

"At the time, I didn’t give a damn," says Baker, now 24, whose written a play based on his family’s experience with the disease that runs at the Roundhouse Community Centre from Jan. 5 to 21.

"I wasn’t paying attention because it was just little things—like forgetting how to spell his name. Then it gradually progressed to getting up in the middle of the night and going over to the neighbours and asking them if they were going to take him to work. It wasn’t until I was 19 or 20, when the disease was far along, that I wanted to sit down and talk to him about things."

In 1995 after many years of tests, Baker’s father was finally diagnosed with Diffuse Lewey Body, a dementia with symptoms similar to Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. Thomas Baker, now 74 and a former priest and counsellor with two master’s degrees, has steadily declined in the last five years and has been unable to care for himself.

"I first wrote a poem about him. I grew up pretty fast because we spent a lot of time dealing with him and not dealing with me," he says. "But as painful as it is for me to watch my father dying of this disease, I don’t know how much pain he’s in."

Joseph says that as he faced the loss of his father, he was forced to come to terms with his own adolescent struggles and deal honestly with his emotions.

In the early stages of the disease, he was cared for at home by his wife Janice with help from a home-care worker. Eventually, after a year on a waiting list, he required 24-hour care and was placed in Delta View Hospital, where he still resides.

Watching his father decline physically and mentally has had a profound effect on Joseph, who wrote Being Inside while at Evergreen College in Olympia, Wash. where he graduated from last year.

"It explores what it means to be caught inside a personal tragedy where the cause and cure are unknown and the sentence is unrelentingly progressive and indeterminate," Joseph explains.

He and his brothers—22-year-old Jeremiah and 17-year-old Nathaneal—are much younger than most kids whose parents are living with dementia. Compounding his sadness is guilt. Joseph, raised a Catholic with a strong sense of family, left B.C. to study at Evergreen College while his family remained behind to care for his father. (With dual citizenship, Joseph had always dreamed of attending university in the U.S.)

"I felt bad about being so far away. My brother Jeremiah visits my dad every other day and has been supporting the family since he finished high school," he says. "The guilt is something I’m still dealing with."

As his senior thesis project at Evergreen, a unique, interdisciplinary college one hour south of Seattle, Joseph created Being Inside, which he describes as a "multi-media environmental theatre piece that maps the suffering that can sear and transform lives." Evergreen and its teaching philosophy played a key role in how the play developed. Begun as a poem, Being Inside eventually included video projections, music, dance, interviews and monologues.

"Evergreen is like a Montessori university—those are my words, not the college’s," he says laughing. "Going there changed my life. Their approach is very non-traditional, but it’s not weird hippy crap that no one can understand. I learned that theatre is a way to increase your vocabulary with your body."

Being Inside is based on his own experiences, but includes stories of other victims of dementia and their families, some of whom live at Delta View Hospital. Joseph insists the play has broad appeal and is not just for those who have a family member with dementia. He says the show is for adolescents dealing with the loss of a father or mother, for caregivers coping with heavy burdens and suffering, and for artists to experience an emerging and organic form of theatre.

"Ionly hope that people go home with questions and walk out with a better understanding of what it’s like for people going through the disease," he says. "But I want people to have their own experiences. I don’t want them to have my experience or my family’s experience."

The one person it’s really for, though, is his dad, which is why Being Inside is premiering in Vancouver after a trial run at Evergreen a few months ago.

"He’ll be at the opening, if his health permits it. How much of the show he’ll understand I don’t know but that’s why we’re opening here. I want him to be there."

Friday, February 11, 2005

One of our own

Playwright Arthur Miller died today, and -- I am not even kidding -- I felt a kinship. Because we're writing a play. I have maybe read one Arthur Miller play, ever. And truth be told, I didn't even know he was still alive in the first place.

Voila! Separation.

Lindsay and I have had some concern over the fact that our play is based on...ourselves. This means that when we put it up, everyone will know all our secrets! ACK! We're dooooooomed.

But then I was talking to a coworker yesterday about this very thing, and about how we aren't sure how to separate ourselves from our characters (Is just naming them something different ok? Would that even fool people? What other names work with "Desperado," anyway?), and she pointed out that at some point, it will happen naturally. She, being older and wiser, is probably right.

Someday (maybe soon) we will have something actually written down. The character development, for purposes of the play, will be complete and written down and mostly final. But Lindsay and I? Will keep on living our lives. We'll keep growing and learning and gaining perspective on our pasts. We will keep changing, but we'll leave the characters right where they are.

Voila! Separation. (We hope.)