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1100 Playwright Interviews

1100 Playwright Interviews A Sean Abley Rob Ackerman E.E. Adams Johnna Adams Liz Duffy Adams Tony Adams David Adjmi Keith Josef Adkins Nicc...

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Aug 30, 2005

new scene--first draft

(Alice looks through a microscope. FRED enters wearing a labcoat. He probably has a moustache.) FRED Hi Alice.

ALICE (not looking up) Fred. FRED What are ya looking at? ALICE My sister’s husband. FRED Is this your current project? ALICE (Coming up from the microscope.) What can I do for you, Fred? FRED Well, I was thinking—are you, um . . .. I was going to eat something tonight and maybe drink and I thought if you weren’t doing anything . . . ALICE I’m sorry Fred but I already have a date tonight, but if you want to add your name to the chalkboard of suitors on the wall, I may be able to fit you in sometime next month. FRED (looking at chalkboard.) That would be— ALICE I mean if you’re serious. FRED There’s a lot of names. ALICE If you’re not serious— FRED Oh, I am. There’s just something about you. ALICE What you speak of, I think, Fred is a coldness I have managed to cultivate towards the majority of men. Because I give off the air of not caring about you and because I speak to you and others brusquely, because I am short and dismissive with you, you think there must be something about me. I get many dates because of this. Perhaps you think I am like this all the time, but I am not. It disappears when I go home. It is not anything true. Because when I go home I am under a different spell. Not unlike the way you are under mine. Do you understand? FRED I think I love you. ALICE All right, well, add your name to the chalkboard and leave me a sample of your genetic material and we’ll see what comes of it. I promise not to erase your name prematurely. FRED Thank you. ALICE Now please go. I have to look at this some more. FRED Thank you. (Exit FRED. ALICE goes back to her microscope.)

Aug 29, 2005

Floyd B, Franny M and I were having lunch on Sat after a fringe show and Floyd turned to look up from his smoked sausage and said to me, “You’ll blog about this, won’t you?” I said nothing and he said. “Please be kind.” Franny just smiled. Larry said something completely different and unrelated yesterday as we were eating dinner in the east village after the second consecutive fringe show. But I won’t repeat it. You had to be there. K brought home a bunch of instruments like she was starting a band. I wonder if she’s starting a band. I told her I want to play the sax she brought, and I do. I do want to learn to play it. --------------------------------- August Wilson is dying. What must it be like to know you’re dying and to know no one can do anything about it? Is he rushing to write a new play in the months he has left? What does one do with those months? We’ll miss him.

Aug 25, 2005

The Writing Game and The Waiting Game

Sometimes even the Crying Game. Sometimes the day in day out working at the day job, coming home and trying to write, waiting for the inevitable rejections to come in gets to be too much. But there doesn't seem to be another way.

Aug 24, 2005

O’ young little theatre company Far away from here Do you want to do my plays? Would you like to drink a beer? I want to get my words on Inside of your black box Morning after we’d have breakfast A bagel and some lox You’d remember it till the day you die The night you did my show The throbbing pulse of polite applause Like a geyser in mid flow And afterwards we have some drinks And talk about our genius So clear that night to one and all Wish everyone could have seen us

Hope

Read this inspiring article by Oskar Eustis about what he wants to do at the Public.

Aug 23, 2005

Fly to Arizona to see my short play

Second Annual Lesbian Shorts Theater Festival! The Bloody Unicorn Theater Company will present LESBIAN SHORTS II, their second annual festival of lesbian-themed original one-act plays, this September at the Temple of Music and Art in Tucson, AZ. This year's shows include "What If I Don't", by Rebekah Lopata, "Paris", by Lyralen Kaye, "Save", by Adam Szymkowicz, "A Lover's Quarrel, A Parent/Child Conflict, And A High Speed Car Chase All Neatly Resolved In Under Fifteen Minutes (Just Like In Real Life)", by Matthew Hanson, and "Lemonade", by Ginger Lazarus. It stars Allison Rose, Teresa Simon, Martie van der Voort, Sara Thompson, and Sara Lafontain. There will also be performances by Midriff Crisis, Tucson's leading tribal bellydance troupe. The festival runs from September 2 through September 11 at the Cabaret Theater of the Temple of Music and Art, 330 S. Scott Ave. in Tucson. The shows will be presented Fridays at 7:30 PM, and Saturdays and Sundays at both 2:30 PM and 7:30 PM, and all plays will be presented at each performance. Tickets are $14 and can be reserved by contacting bloodyunicorntheater@yahoo.com or calling (520) 990-3628. More information is available at www.bloodyunicorn.com.

Aug 22, 2005

Discuss

From an email that Larry Kunofsky wrote to me reprinted with his permission: I think that there's been a growth spurt in American Playwriting in the last ten years or so. It seems to me that Angels in America and even, perhaps to a smaller degree, Three Tall Women, helped energize the medium. When each of these plays won the Pulitzer, one year after the other, it seemed – at least to me - to be more significant than what the Pulitzer committee had been recognizing in Drama for years. I think these two plays and the cultural dent they made helped create avenues for political and aesthetic explorations in the theatre that had not previously been in the mainstream (to the extent that theatre can be mainstream in this country). It seems to me that real artistic expression kind of evaporated, for the most part, in American Theatre since the late 60's. Absurdism was embraced by all the "serious" playwrights of that era to the extent that it got really old really fast, creating a self-marginalizing effect, keeping American Theatre in a kind of museum-piece mode. It was stifling in the same way that "kitchen-sink-realism" suffocated theatre a decade before. The novel was a far more important medium throughout this time, and in the 70's, it seemed that cinema became the most "important' American art form. The 70's and early-to-mid 80's-era theatre was dominated by strong personalities such as Mamet and Shepard, but they abandoned theatre for film to a profound degree, and the late 80's and early 90's seemed to me to be a Dark Age for theatre, probably due to NEA-fallout and the Recession. It became increasingly improbable to expect serious artistic expression from commercial theatre throughout this time. I think now people are writing plays with no real expectation of commercial success, which is terrible for the most part, of course, but creates a kind of hopeful by-product, in that it actually separates the irrepressibly real playwrights from the hacks. 13P, I think, will prove to be an extremely important artistic and political phenomena in that it reflects in microcosm the serious playwrights are putting out there against the grain of - if not in direct opposition to - commercial or developmental theatre. I can only hope that similar groups will pop up in the near future. I also feel that a lot of the more interesting work that keeps springing up seems not to belong to any kind of "school" of writing and that original and individual kinds of theatre seems to emerge more strongly and distinctly currently than it has in recent memory. I also suspect that American universities strengthened their playwriting programs in the time since I left school. This is certainly true of graduate programs. From Chris Durang's time as a student up until very recently, Yale was pretty much it. But I think that even undergrad playwriting programs became a lot more relevant of late. I actually think that the importance recently placed on grad programs in the career and artistic development of playwrights is somewhat destructive. It prevents playwrights from poorer economic backgrounds from finding a career track, and probably confines original artistic expression, churning out a cookie-cutter mold of playwrights in much the same way that places like Iowa churned out one Raymond Carver-esque fiction writer after another for decades. Regional theatres have stopped discovering new talent independent from grad schools long ago. But in the short-term, the rise of the Playwriting MFA has produced a lot of interesting playwrights. Anecdotally, I hardly knew any other serious-minded playwrights when I was in school, but about five years after graduating, I seemed to encounter an inordinate amount of serious and seriously talented playwrights who were just a few years younger than me. I acknowledge that this could largely be a product of my own limited experience, but I've always kept my eye out for the real deal, and I remember a time where I mostly couldn't find it. And now it's all over the place. Does this make sense? l Adam’s Note: Larry is a 35 yr old playwright who has lived in NY all his life

The Missouri Girl

films for monday

I would like to recommend two great rentals. First you need to see My Dinner with Andre. I saw this maybe 10 years ago and it made a slight impression on me. This time around I was impressed with how well it holds together and how much there really is in there. If you're struggling with how to live your life like many of us, you need to see this film again. (especially if you're an artist.) Secondly, may I suggest Dirty Filthy Love, about a guy who has Tourette's and OCD. The English know how to make a good film. Not that it's perfect, but it is charming yet harsh and has an edge that hollywood can never get to. Definitely worth a look.

Aug 19, 2005

Burying what there is

The gravedigger was adept with the shovel and pick, with the backhoe too and the bulldozer and the spoon. The poet, wife of the gravedigger, mother of three, was haunted by images she could not control. So she kept with her at all times the tiniest pad and would throw on the pages these waking nightmares. When she came down with pneumonia, it was said, she got sick because, while away from home, she had lost her pad and when she couldn't find it, she began to run and simply couldn't stop. She couldn't stop that is until she collapsed on a stranger's doorstep outside of town. When the poet died, there was a usual funeral, but the gravedigger sick with grief could not dig her grave. A substitute gravedigger had to be found--someone not so adept with the shovel and the pick . . . and the backhoe.
Ripley's post linking to very funny article about intelligent design.

whew

The fine people at the place I got into –see post below-- are allowing me to start their program when I finish Juilliard. That way, someone else can have my slot but then I still get to do it in a year or two. That’s really very nice of them. They didn’t have to do that for me. I feel much better about the whole thing—because I didn’t want to give up an opportunity but I didn’t want to hog support when I was already going to be supported by the colossus that is Juilliard.
For all you dialogue lovers: Overheard in New York And now pictures from the winter.

Aug 18, 2005

Tightly to my bosom

All of a sudden I'm getting support. I'm not used to being supported, accepted. Hell, I'm a playwright. Rejection is constant and predictable so when I'm not rejected, it's a shock. It's almost as hard to accept as the rejections. I just got into something and I'm not sure they'll let me do it because I'm going into Juilliard and if they do let me do it should I feel guilty for having too much support? It's so hard to get support that when it comes I grab it with both hands and hold it tightly to my bosom. That's right. I said bosom.

Aug 17, 2005

Too Ate

It's my birthday. I am young, perhaps, by comparison to most people I know, but I feel old. Should I have done more? Should I have written more? Achieved more? Who can say? I better get cracking. I saw some of the Teen Choice Awards last night. That made me feel old. And male. It should be called the Screaming Fourteen Year Old Girl Awards. All the young movie stars sort of look generically the same. And all the girls act the same. They aren't allowed to have personalities or be funny. They are only allowed to look good. It worries me. But perhaps that is simply an old man worry.

Read my plays

www.adamszymkowicz.com

Aug 16, 2005

Mostly Stolen pictures

I know how people like pictures and now that it has become easy to do so, I will put pictures on here. Yippeee! These are some feet from the Columbia website--perhaps some jumpers. because of the suicide desire. Hard to say. This is our view from the offices of Columbia. Yes, we see that everyday...in our helicopters on the way to work.

Aug 15, 2005

She looks up from her microscope at the frizzy-haired man in the lab coat beside her. "I'm sorry, Fred, but I already have a date for tonight. If you want to add your name to the chalkboard on the wall, I can try to squeeze you in sometime next month. It's the best I can do." He says nothing. Looks at the chalkboard. She goes back to her microscope.

From Uncle Vanya

SONIA. What can we do? We must live our lives. [A pause] Yes, we shall live, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through the long procession of days before us, and through the long evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials that fate imposes on us; we shall work for others without rest, both now and when we are old; and when our last hour comes we shall meet it humbly, and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have suffered and wept, that our life was bitter, and God will have pity on us. Ah, then dear, dear Uncle, we shall see that bright and beautiful life; we shall rejoice and look back upon our sorrow here; a tender smile--and--we shall rest. I have faith, Uncle, fervent, passionate faith. [SONIA kneels down before her uncle and lays her head on his hands. She speaks in a weary voice] We shall rest. [TELEGIN plays softly on the guitar] We shall rest. We shall hear the angels. We shall see heaven shining like a jewel. We shall see all evil and all our pain sink away in the great compassion that shall enfold the world. Our life will be as peaceful and tender and sweet as a caress. I have faith; I have faith. [She wipes away her tears] My poor, poor Uncle Vanya, you are crying! [Weeping] You have never known what happiness was, but wait, Uncle Vanya, wait! We shall rest. [She embraces him] We shall rest. [The WATCHMAN'S rattle is heard in the garden; TELEGIN plays softly; MME. VOITSKAYA writes something on the margin of her pamphlet; MARINA knits her stocking] We shall rest. It's a good way to end a play or maybe this: SHAMRAEFF. Here is the stuffed sea-gull I was telling you about. [He takes the sea-gull out of the cupboard] You told me to have it done. TRIGORIN. [looking at the bird] I don't remember a thing about it, not a thing. [A shot is heard. Every one jumps.] ARKADINA. [Frightened] What was that? DORN. Nothing at all; probably one of my medicine bottles has blown up. Don't worry. [He goes out through the door on the right, and comes back in a few moments] It is as I thought, a flask of ether has exploded. [He sings] "Spellbound once more I stand before thee." ARKADINA. [Sitting down at the table] Heavens! I was really frightened. That noise reminded me of-- [She covers her face with her hands] Everything is black before my eyes. DORN. [Looking through the pages of a magazine, to TRIGORIN] There was an article from America in this magazine about two months ago that I wanted to ask you about, among other things. [He leads TRIGORIN to the front of the stage] I am very much interested in this question. [He lowers his voice and whispers] You must take Madame Arkadina away from here; what I wanted to say was, that Constantine has shot himself. The curtain falls. The tone of it. I love the tone.

Aug 12, 2005

Friday Everyone is Disgruntled

Tap tap at me with your negativity. Spread it thick over the place you imagine my face to be. It's not my problem, this thing you wrestle. Don't make me soak it in. I will skid over the wet place you made, skate by it, float over it, walk around it. When I was little, I was angry like you. I had little fists that wanted to hurt. I had a heart that cried when my fists made contact. I had lungs that heaved with my child tears. Now I am old and I am disgruntled. I don't need your grunting to fill up my misery. ---------------------------------- I have no idea how I will manage to see all the fringe shows I plan to/want to see. It is almost entirely impossible. Please know if I don't get to your show, I tried. Oh God how I tried.

Aug 11, 2005

Google and Orgasms

See recent Mike Daisey Posts about the potential power of google and the actual power of orgasms.

A reading (not my own)

Where will you be this August 17th? I have many eyewitness accounts of what I was doing 28 years ago on August 17th. But this year I will be here. Hope you will be here too. New Georges presents a mini-workshop of... ALL THE GIRLS LOVE BOBBY KENNEDY a new play by Kristen Palmer directed by Sarah Cameron Sunde featuring: Elizabeth Tidy Amelia Zirin-Brown Travis York Todd D'amour Deron Bos Matthew Knowland Gracie has been dreaming of Bobby and he's been dreaming back to her while the world changes around them on a college campus in rural Missouri in the spring of 1968. A play about young love, idealism and Robert F. Kennedy. Wednesday, August 17 7pm New Georges' The Room 520 8th Ave. 3rd floor (between 36 & 37th)

Aug 10, 2005

Class is in Session (but not for me yet)

School has started up again and all the fresh faced youths are intent on becoming newly minted journalists. I watch throngs of them stream up the steps chatting and effusing as I wait silently for the elevator to carry me to my wall-less cubicle on the 7th floor of this ivory tower. I am old and bearded and can only watch their excitement with nostalgia. I almost forget that I will attend an ivory tower of my own soon. Albeit part-time. I will still come here every day and the fresh faced interviewers-to-be will see me as an office drone. Which is, of course, what I am.

Aug 8, 2005

Blogging is like theatre

Because you never know who will see what you put up. Because anyone could see it, but probably only a few people actually will. That's all I got. Anyone else?

Blogroll Please

Please welcome Bog Face and the Palace of the Spitting Frog to the blogroll. The Palace is a wonderful place to stay and a Jenn is a really good person and host. If you ever get an opportunity to stay at the Palace of the Spitting Frog(s), I highly recommend it. Bog Face kicked my ass at basketball yesterday. As did FW and T-Dawg. I suck at basketball. But I am relatively good at drinking PBR at the Yacht Club which was where we headed when we got tired of the baseball players trying to hit us out of the basketball court. Gary met us not at the court but at the club. Many people did not make either the club or the court. You know who you are, you non-participators and giver-uppers. Hope you can make it next time.

Aug 5, 2005

Blogging For the Sake of the Children

BOBBIE Good fiction is no different than non-fiction. It’s just a shift of the adjectives, a replacement of the specifics. You put a tarp over something and when you take it off, it has changed. It’s not magic. It’s just that you notice what you didn’t notice before. With that in mind, please know that I’m telling you the truth. The man clears his head on the subway. He lets himself be rocked by the motion, goes slack in the lurches. He is a spectator. Attracted by this color, struck dumb by this shape, astounded by this shade of skin. The man doesn’t speak but sometimes there is excessive eye contact and a lot of looking at the ground. The man never follows through. He always slinks away when the doors open. He is nursing a depression. (Taking out a handgun, looking down the barrel.) I clear my head by looking down the barrel of a forty-five. It used to be a flare gun, then a bee bee gun. Then it was this but unloaded. Now I have to load it or the mind won’t clear. I’m afraid of what the next step might be. I am terribly good at following through. You might say, that like the man, I am depressed. If you had no sense of proportion, you might say we are the same. School starts up a month (or so) from now. I'm so excited I can hardly stay upright. Tonight is the last night of Nerve at 13th Street Rep. I'm sure I'll see you all there. www.adamszymkowicz.com
So I have this short play Soup I wrote when I was 21 during winter break basically in one sitting. It's been online for years. So far it has been produced in London at a college and in Lithuania at a college. Some high school in Australia wanted to do it but one of the parents got ahold of the script and made a fuss and the show was shut down. Someone from the Netherlands recently contacted me asking to translate the play and perform it. And now some kids in Romania want to do a short film version. In some ways this is my most successful short play beacause it gets done with no effort on my part (although I haven't made a dime on it). Now I ask you, why can't I get a production in the U.S.? Am I just not trying hard enough? But more importantly, why is it only Soup that gets attention from college students in far flung countries? I have other plays online. Better plays (in my opinion). Why don't they want to do one of them? I'm speaking to you now all you college kids in Bulgaria and France and Nepal and Luxembourg. Go here. Read something other than Soup. I'll pretend like I'm not secretly thrilled when I receive your request in broken English to do said play for free. And we'll all be happy.

Aug 4, 2005

STRESSED

At work they gave me a stack of projects upon my return. Gone are the good old days when I could relax. Starting to write a new play tentatively titled Food for Fish: A Novel in a Bottle. It's about men and women and how they are different and the same and how they get along. Maybe there should be something about that in the title. It was nice and cool in seattle. Seventy, eighty degrees. Sunny almost the whole time--which they say is rare. And mountains. I didn't grow up around mountains or water but I could see how they could be missed. P.S. Can anyone recommend a good novella or two written in first person?--I'm studying to write a one-person show. www.adamszymkowicz.com

Aug 1, 2005

Jetlag and Duck Itch

I may be too tired to say anything intelligent yet. I am still in Seattle and there are many wonderful things here. The Seattle folks are great. The wedding was great. The views here are spectacular although it is touristy down by the waterfront and there are lots of homeless people here--a disproportionate amount it seems. And there are a lot of nice fountains and seagulls but it still smells like piss or fish sometimes. And I saw a couple of bums beating each other up on the pavement yesterday. In short--it's still a city, though really a nice city to live in. If NY theatre wasn't such a beacon . . . but alas. The mountains. I could look for hours at the snow-capped mountains over the water. Anyone ever hear of duck itch before? Apparently I narrowly escaped it.