I Interview Playwrights Part 138: Stacey Luftig

Stacey Luftig

Hometown: Metuchen, NJ

Current Town: New York, NY

Q:  Tell me about your operetta that's being workshopped soon.

A:  Actually, it’s not a workshop—we're getting a full production in Portland, Oregon, with a 35-piece orchestra! Story of an Hour is based on a short story by 19th century writer Kate Chopin, who is probably best known for her novel The Awakening. I wrote the libretto and Michael Valenti composed the score.

I'm so happy Michael asked me to work on this project. His music is lush, and the story is both stark and subtle. Josephine must tell Louise, her sister, that Louise's husband has died in a train crash. When she hears this, Louise goes through a surprising emotional transformation—an awakening, really—that ends in a shocking way.

Chopin’s tale is just three pages long, so we expanded it by developing the relationship between the sisters. We also created a specific time and setting. That's because the operetta, while it stands alone, is also part of a three-act evening called A Christmas Trilogy, and each act takes place on Christmas eve, in the same mansion in Bath, England. Act I is an opera set in the 1700s, with a libretto adapted by Michael from a 17th-century play. Act II—our piece—is an operetta set in the 1800s. And Act III, set in the 1900s, is a musical comedy, with book and lyrics by Joe DiPietro, and music, of course, by Michael. So it's one set, four actors, three centuries, three styles of music theater.

Q:  How is writing a musical or opera different from writing a straight play as it relates to your working process?

A:  As a playwright, I'm completely in charge. Which is great…and kind of scary. But having a collaborator means having a co-creator, critic, and cheerleader right there with me during the dreamy, vulnerable parts of the process that as a playwright I have to face alone. Plus, it means I have someone else who’s as jazzed about the project as I am, someone to please, someone to argue with. All very useful.

Q:  What else are you working on?

A:  I'm writing lyrics to an original musical set in Ghana. This time I have two collaborators—Jennie Redling is writing book, and Phillip Palmer is composing the music. Jennie lives nearby, but Phillip is now living in South Africa. So that means lots of MIDI files, PDFs, and Skype instead of sitting in front of a baby grand and turning the pages. The story is about a 16-year-old girl from a small village who wants to become a teacher, and it involves sexual slavery and AIDS. Which may sound a little depressing. Yet the show is actually high energy, filled with joy and humor, not to mention great music and a powerful story. I’m excited to be immersing myself in a culture and in rhythms so different from my own.

Q:  Tell me, if you will, a story from your childhood that explains who you are as a writer or as a person.

A:  My dad wrote for television and theater. He loved what he did. That alone was influential. When I was twelve, Dad was writing, directing, and producing a kids' program for NBC called The Everything Show. He asked my sister and me to read his scripts and tell him what we thought. (He paid us a dollar a week for the privilege, too.) He said to us, "My friends will tell me, 'Sure Don, great, it's great.' I count on my family to tell me the truth."

I took this responsibility very seriously. I saw my ideas and suggestions make their way to the show—my ideas, on TV! After that, I always assumed I'd end up living in New York, writing scripts. Recently, I had two scripts of my own produced for a kids’ TV show. I wish Dad could have seen them.

And when someone asks me to edit his or her script, I still see it as an honor.

Q:  What kind of theater excites you?

A:  Almost anything if it's done really well. One of my all-time favorite pieces is Love's Fowl, which is an opera for adults about Chicken Little, sung in Italian, with subtitles, and performed entirely with tiny puppets built on top of clothespins. It's hilarious, and oddly moving. I also love intense, spare productions of classics, like David Cromer's take on Our Town. Then again, big, bold, stylized theater with huge production values—like the opening sequence of The Lion King—well, that just sends me. Stop me now—I could go on and on.

Q:  What advice do you have for playwrights just starting out?

A:  If you're not already an actor, take an acting class. See and read every kind of theater you can, even if you think it's not a style that interests you. Find a good playwriting teacher. Finally, allow yourself to write terrible first drafts. You can always fix them. And they may not be so terrible after all.

Q:  Plugs, please:

A:  Story of an Hour, music by Michael Valenti, premieres May 22 in Portland, Oregon: http://portlandchamberorchestra.org/wordpress/buy-tickets/american-feast.

Understood Betsy, a family musical, with music by Mary Feinsinger and additional music by Robert Elhai, opens July 9 in Columbia, Missouri.

I Interview Playwrights Part 137: Vincent Delaney

Vincent Delaney

Hometown: Minneapolis

Current Town: Seattle

Q:  You got a couple things coming up in New York this summer. Can you tell me about Ampersand and T or C?

A:  Both plays were spawned by relationship terror. Ampersand is a comedy about husbands and wives cloning each other. It’s a three hander, so a fun workout for actors, playing multiple versions of themselves.

The style is brutal farce, with more than a touch of Feydeau: fast pace, surprises, mistaken identity, lots of humiliation and quick exits.

I’d say the play asks two questions: how far will we go to be married? And if I sleep with your clone, is it really cheating?

T or C is stylistically at the opposite end of the spectrum, but is also based in terror. It’s about the parents of a school shooter, meeting up in the New Mexico desert a year after the crime. Sheridan wants to hide, his wife Jane tracks him down.

The third character is Soledad, a local teen who’s a gifted poker player, in every sense of the word. Her relationship with Sheridan ends up being wickedly undefined but also funny.

This play asks, can we ever really know our children? And if not, what does that make us?

Q:  What else are you working on?

A:  Working on two more comedies. One is called Three Screams, about the people who keep inexplicably stealing Edvard Munch’s Scream. It’s about obsession, jealousy, and artists.

The other is about a playwright who fakes his own death in order to finally get produced, then works incognito as a stage hand on the production. He has to watch as everything gets rewritten, and he can’t step in. When the rewritten play is a big hit, I think he kills himself for real. Not sure about that ending yet.

Q:  If I came to Seattle tomorrow, what shows or companies would you suggest I check out?

A:  Most exciting theatre in Seattle is happening at Seattle Public Theatre and New Century Theatre Company. Two nimble, lean companies that are all about the actors and the text.

Q:  If you could change one thing about theater, what would it be?

A:  Take the money out of the equation. Regionals should do five times as many plays each season, run each one for two weeks maximum, and build a community to rival film and television. I have no idea how that could happen.

Q:  What kind of theater excites you?

A:  Danger and complexity. Characters that can’t be summed up. Scripts that point us in odd directions and make no effort to offer solutions. Breathless poetry that is never about itself, but keeps rushing forward. Small spaces where the seats feel like they’re part of the set.

Q:  What advice do you have for playwrights just starting out?

A: Always assume the audience is smarter than you are. Leave a play for a month and come back to it. Have some really physical hobbies.

Q:  Plugs, please:

A:  In addition to NCTC and Seattle Public, I adore the Workhaus Collective in Minneapolis, the Virtual Theatre Project, and Florida Stage. These companies exist for plays and playwrights.

Exciting new directors: Hayley Finn, Makaela Pollock, Meredith McDonough.

Exciting established directors: Lou Tyrell, Rita Giomi, Joel Sass, Ben McGovern.

If you need a dramaturg: Liz Engelman, Sarah Slight, Polly Carl.

Smart actors who love new plays: Sally Wingert, Josh Foldy, MJ Siebert, Sarah Malkin.

I Interview Playwrights Part 136: Kathryn Walat

Kate Walat

Hometown: A small town in Massachusetts

Current Town: New York

Q:  Tell me about this opera of Paul's Case you're adapting.

A:  “Paul’s Case” is a short story by Willa Cather, about a high school boy in 1906 Pittsburgh, whose father pulls him out of school when he spends too much time hanging around the opera house, and makes him get a job at a financial office. One day Paul steals all the money, takes the night train to New York, and blows it all on a weekend at the Waldorf Astoria—and then jumps in front of a train. It’s a great story, perfect for opera. I’m co-writing the libretto with composer Gregory Spears, who is also a good friend, so it’s fun that the collaboration grew out of that friendship and it helps that we know each other’s work well. And opera is a very cool medium: more poetic and spare than playwriting, but with similar questions of characters development and dramatic structure.

Q:  What else are you working on?

A:  I’ve recently finished a first draft of a new play entitled GREEDY, set in New York during the heat of last summer, partly about the fall-out of the financial crisis. It deals with greed and desire and loss both in personal ways, for the four characters, but also in terms of our nation. One of the characters looks like Barak Obama; there’s also bits of Strindberg’s MISS JULIE mixed in. And there’s a band—I think—I haven’t exactly figured out how that fits in, but even before working on the opera, I’ve been very interested in music and how it works with non-musical theater. My previous play CREATION also deals with music, but more in terms of structure and rhythm and theme, rather than being written into the script or production.

Q:  Tell me, if you will, a story from your childhood that explains who you are as a writer or as a person.

A:  When I was young, maybe 5 or 6 (so young I barely remember it), my family and I were visiting a farm, and we were part of a group of people being shown around the dairy barn. The farmer giving the tour asked if anyone wanted to try milking a cow, and everyone was surprised when I immediately raised my hand—no one else in the group did—and I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into, but I was like: of course I want to try this. I was so small that I wasn’t really being able to do it (you actually have to squeeze and pull pretty vigorously to get the milk to come), but my parents say that it was then that they knew I was going to be an adventurous child. I think as a writer, or with starting a new play, you don’t ever really know what you’re getting yourself into, but in a sort of primal way, you just want to do it.

Q:  What is the purpose of theater?

A:  I don’t know that it has to have a purpose. It’s art—it’s entertainment. I do like how theater is fantasy and reality at the same time; it can make people feel and think and connect with other people. For playwrights in particular, I think it’s also an intense way of sharing part of your self with an audience.

Q:  What kind of theater excites you?

A:  Right now I’m excited about seeing plays that use theatricality and structure in interesting ways. That’s something that always jazzes me as I write too. And it also sets playwriting apart from, say, writing for television or film, where the medium has more prescribed forms. Something that has been fun about working on the opera is that I don’t really know what I’m doing, so I’m exploring new theatrical possibilities, seeing what you can do once you add music. But at core, I’m most interested in plays that I can connect to on an emotional level—usually through the characters. To me, it’s about people, both theater and making theater.

Q:  What advice do you have for playwrights just starting out?

A:  Write a lot. See and read a lot of plays. And meet a lot of people, because it will feed you artistically, and so that you can collaborate with them. Also, listen to your instincts, in terms of your plays and your career; take the time to know yourself as an artist and person, and that will make the work better and getting there more interesting.

Coming Up Next

A reading of Incendiary

That's the one about the female fire chief/arsonist who falls in love with the detective investigating her fires.  In case you missed the readings at Ars Nova or South Coast Rep or LAByrinth or the workshop production at Juilliard.

April 5 at 7pm at Jimmy’s no 43

http://www.stu42.com/

A reading of My Base and Scurvy Heart

A brand new play about pirates I will hear for the first time that day.  I still have a great deal of this play to write.

April 15 at 4pm at 59E59

http://primarystages.org/readings

A production of Nerve in Philadelphia

April 8-May 2

http://www.azukatheatre.org/

Also have you seen my new rocking website?  www.adamszymkowicz.com

Have you bought your copy of Pretty Theft yet?

http://www.amazon.com/Pretty-Theft-Adam-Szymkowicz/dp/0573697213/ref=cm_lmf_tit_5

Have you seen my 135 and counting interviews with playwrights?

(below)

I Interview Playwrights Part 135: Paul Mullin

Paul Mullin

Hometown: Baltimore

Current Town: Seattle

Q:  What are you working on now?

A:  I’m sort of half working on a play about consciousness. As soon as I say that I can hear someone saying, “But aren’t all plays about consciousness?” And the answer is, yes, they are; but this one would be literally about philosophical and scientific explorations of consciousness, which have sort of failed miserably over the last several decades. Or I should probably say, they failed brilliantly, since while they haven’t brought us any closer to explaining how consciousness works or even really what it is, they have succeeded in framing some mind-blowing questions. I want to find a way of dramatizing those questions and make an audience’s collective head spin the way mine has spun researching the subject.

Last year I finished a farce and it was the hardest thing I have ever written. So I’m not sure I really have the energy required to tackle a full-length play. That’s why I say I’m only half-writing it.

I am also currently involved in a community-wide effort to advance locally grown plays in Seattle and through that effort help bring the city to its rightful standing as a world class theatre town. I have begun a series of essays on the subject and am posting them at my blog called Just Wrought. (paulmullin.org)

Q:  Tell me, if you will, a story from your childhood that explains who you are as a writer or as a person.

A:  Well as the youngest of a moderately large Irish Catholic family I got to watch my brother and sisters play parts in the church musicals that I was too young to join. I loved it. I also remember as a kid that I felt a particular thrill when I used my toy type writer to bang out short scripts that I dreamed we would perform in our basement. Later I loved seeing my sisters play roles in their junior high school productions. I still believe my sister Margaret’s performance of Gollum in THE HOBBIT is the best portrayal of that character ever. My sister Mary was one of the dwarves and I remember playing with the wooden sword that I believe my brother made for her in my step dad’s woodshop. My whole family loved shows and show business, but compared to my siblings I joined the game late, since it wasn’t until the 10th grade that I first got on stage as Puck in A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM. Being on stage felt natural, powerful. I scored an acting scholarship to the University of Maryland, and within months of being there, I started working on my first full-length play, PHILOSOPHES, which my brother still maintains is my best. Maybe that’s because back then, I didn’t have a computer of my own, so whenever I had finished writing out a play longhand in some spiral bound notebook, I would catch a ride up to Baltimore county and spend an entire weekend at his apartment typing the play into his computer so I could then print out a proper script. He probably feels a strong ownership over the plays that were first typed on his computer.

Q:  On your blog you seem (as most every playwright I've ever met seems) unhappy with the role of the playwright in today's theater. If you could change one thing, what would it be?

A:  We need to rescue the role of playwright from that of supplicant. The very language around the process has grown poisonous. We are asked to “submit” our plays. We shouldn’t be submitting anything. We should be leading, not begging a relatively newly minted caste of artistic administrators whose job seems to be to watch what all the other artistic administrators are doing and hew as closely to that as possible. I would reverse the trend of placing artistic directors and directors at the top of the decision-making hierarchy and return playwrights to their rightful places as the premiere progenitors of plays.

Q:  What kind of theater excites you?

A:  I catch a huge thrill when I sense that the audience is galvanized by the ephemerality of the experience. When they experience not only the thrill of the performed story, but the understanding that what they are witnessing will never be witnessed in exactly the same way again. I love theatre that exploits this. Conversely, I am deeply bored by theatre that merely attempts to offer offer craft in place of heart, or stories better suited to a flat screen or the pages of a book. I love theatre where the audience gets that they are responsible finally for putting it together, where passivity is banished and replaced by engagement and community. So you could say my favorite kind of theatre is community theatre.

Q:  What advice do you have for playwrights just starting out?

A:  Work hard. Expect no success on terms other than your own. Ever.

Do not expect to make a living but do it any way. What if William Carlos Williams had whined about having to be a doctor for forty years? Well, actually, he did on occasion whine about it, but we got many amazing poems from him anyway, and the fact that he brought over two thousand babies into the world isn’t anything to shake a stick at either. (So fuck that traitor Ezra Pound.)

Understand the tradition you have joined. Never cede your place in the hierarchy. Directors did not come into existence until the 19th Century. Artistic directors not until the 20th. Only actors outrank you in seniority in the tradition. So treat them with respect. In fact, act on stage as often as you can, but at least once in a while, whether you are comfortable doing it or not.

Q:  Any plugs?:

A:  If you have a theatre that has any technical chops, consider doing my farce, Gossamer Grudges, because farce will kick your theatre artist ass as like a spin class in a sauna.

Keep an eye peeled for the next edition of Seattle’s Living Newspaper: The New New News. The last one we did about the death of the print version of The Seattle Post-Intelligencer got lots of national attention, both locally and nationally (here’s a link to story about It’s Not in the P-I on NPR’s On The Media: http://www.onthemedia.org/episodes/2009/11/20/segments/144826.)

And lastly, know that Seattle’s exploding. We will lead theatre where it needs to go. This is not empty rhetoric. I eat empty rhetoric for breakfast. Really. Ask around. Anyone who knows me will tell you I actually do. It’s not very nutritious, but it’s fun, like Fruit Loops.

I Interview Playwrights Part 134: Kirsten Greenidge

Kirsten Greenidge

Hometown: Arlington, MA

Current Town: West Medford, MA

Q:  What are you working on right now?

A:  Currently I am working on a play called THE LUCK OF THE IRISH, which was originally commissioned by South Coast, but it passed on it. It's been recommissioned by the Huntington Theatre Company here in Boston and I am thrilled--and grateful to Lisa Timmel and Peter Dubois and Charles Haugland at the Huntington-- about that. I am also working on a short adaptation of a Brothers Grimm fairytale for a theatre company here called CompanyOne, as well as a commission from La Jolla called MILK LIKE SUGAR.

Q:  What was it like to be playwright in residence at Woolly Mammoth?

A:  I loved living in DC and going in to Woolly every day. The experience was only odd because one of the grant's guidelines was that the playwright had to spend a set number of hours at the theatre itself. Most plays aren't written this way. You write your play, a theatre is into it, they have you do a reading or workshop and if they still like it and have money and have a slot, they produce it, and THAT is when you lurk around the theatre. Instead, I was being asked to be in the theatre each day which was wonderful on paper--as in AHHH the PLAYWRIGHT is here with us--but a little strange for me because I found it very hard to write there. At first my desk was in the main office with everyone, but then I asked to have my desk in the basement, in the green room. This was much better, but not very inspirational. I would go in to the theatre from 10-6, travel back out to Oakton, Virginia where I was living, and then write at night. I tried to see as much theatre as I could, but I was pretty strict with myself about writing and reading every day, even if the pages were crappy, so basically I was in front of a computer all day, every day the whole six months I was there. If I was not in front of a computer I was reading scripts for Woolly and I absolutely loved this part of my time there. I wish I could do it with every theatre. I am quite proud I got to point to Noah Haidle's play VIGILS and say DO THIS! And the next season, there it was. I'm not naive enough to think it was all my doing, but I do remember coming in with two or three of his plays and saying to Howard and the rest of the readers "Woolly has to know this writer." Howard was really committed to reading all the work that was coming in, so he devised a kind of insane reading schedule where a bunch of us read a play a day every day, then came in each week and reported on them. I got to meet Rebecca Taichman this way and that relationship has been wonderful. In addition to all that, I liked sitting in on rehearsals of other new plays being done there. I love watching rehearsals because for a playwright they are kind of these secret things. You only go to yours and see how yours work, and to be honest, mine don't always go the way I would like, or how I'd hoped. So I like to see how other people work and by going to rehearsals that aren't mine, I can relax and breathe in the process in a way I can't if I am rewriting and nervous the thing is gonna sink like its got a thousand holes.

Q:  Can you tell me about your grad school experience?

A:  I went to Iowa. The first year I applied I got rejected from everywhere but the second year I reapplied to Iowa because it had said "We like you but you're too young, you need more experience." So I thought, well, I will reapply for the next few years and maybe in six they will let me in. It took only a year. I was so convinced I had to go there, I didn't even realize it was a three year program. I also needed health insurance and they had a good plan with all those university hospitals around there. I loved it (both the program and the coverage). I can't imagine going anywhere else. There were times I was lonely, cause basically Iowa City is in the middle of nowhere, if you are used to say Boston, but I got a ton of writing done and I think there is a cohesiveness to the writers there in terms of personal bonding because it is so isolated. One huge obstacle though was having enough actors of color to do my work who were able to embrace plays that were not Realist dramas. That was hard. But to this day I consider my Iowa friends to be some of the best writers and best theatre people I know.

Q:  Tell me, if you will, a story from your childhood that explains who you are as a writer or as a person.

A:  I used to be a gymnast. My friend, playwright David Adjmi, says all my gymnastics training helps with my writing because I can be disciplined and can sometimes let failures spur me on. I remember when I was eight I began to get kinda good at gymnastics and I started winning things. One day my coach was trying to get us to do dismounts off the beam. They were not hard, she just wanted us to stick them a certain way. She knew I could do it the way she was asking, and I knew I could do it the way she was asking. So she asked me to do it and I was very proud, and I got up there and did it, and kinda fell on purpose. I have no idea why. She excused everyone and had me go over to her and she said "Why'd you do that?" And I said "I don't know" and she said "You're good, you're one of the best on this team, but you give up easily. You don't always try hard enough. You can't do that or you won't be the best anymore." Or something to that effect. I was mortified. I was terribly embarrassed. But I got it. And it is something I think of often, even if I don't practice it. I can be a lazy writer. I hate traveling. I like rewriting but have to psych myself up to do it. Instead of printing stuff and proofreading it I will make excuses like I have to go to Staples and buy more ink and paper before I touch a word. I hate the phone so I am horrible at setting up meetings and keeping in touch and I self sabotage a lot. When I feel myself slacking, I think of my eight year old self doing stupid stuff to get attention when I should have been doing the work to get better. It's the same now. I need to remind myself to hunker down and do the damn thing, or else what is the point? If I really want to "fall on purpose" I should just get a day job with health insurance and stop all this crazy playwrighting stuff right now.

Q:  What kind of theater excites you?

A:  I am an easy audience member. I love a good story. I also like to laugh. I actually don't see very much theatre so I just get excited to see something, no matter what it is. But I particularly love plays that make me lean forward, that challenge me to look inside myself, even if what my inside self is thinking is "I wish I'd written that."

Q:  What advice do you have for playwrights just starting out?

A:  Keep writing no matter how often you get rejected. Embrace the work. It will always be there, unlike the praise or the criticism.

Q:  Plugs, please:

A:  Mmm....Next up is the GRIMM adaptation here in Boston this July. Then will be BOSSA NOVA at Yale Rep, and then MILK LIKE SUGAR next summer...just enough to keep this new mama hopping.

Peter Bellamy's portraits

http://pswbportaiture.blogspot.com/

Playwrights and others

I Interview Playwrights Part 133: Derek Ahonen

Derek Ahonen

Hometown:  Chicago

Current Town: New York City

Q:  Tell me about your show Happy In The Poorhouse now playing.

A:  It's a huge Coney Island love story with loose women, meek men, and a belly full of dreamers, optimists, gangsters, and MMA fighters. It's really a throw back play our company wanted to do out of love for works like, THE HOUSE OF BLUE LEAVES and A HATFUL OF RAIN. It's a big love letter to another era but it's set in the current day. Both press and audience are responding very strongly to it in ways we never expected. I guess there's a lot of untapped need for more plays like this. It's been an amazing run so far!

Q:  What else are you working on?

A:  My play, AMERISSIAH, is opening in June at the same space with a lot of familiar faces. I'm also directing that baby. It's a beast of a play that after HAPPY IN THE POORHOUSE I feel like i need to physically get myself in way better shape to direct it. But it's also very fun and explores the boundaries of people with Messiah Complexes.

Q:  Your theater company is called the Amoralists. Are you all amoral?

A:  No! We all have a very strong moral infrastructure and we love people more than anybody else we know. That's why we're called the Amoralists, because we love humans too much to trivialize their complexities in our work. Hey man, the pedophile, abusive drunk, prostitute, police officer, and man-hating lesbian all have wants, needs, and childhoods full of unfulfilled dreams like anybody else. I leave the teaching of morality to the Priests. I'm for the teaching of humanity baby!

Q:  Tell me, if you will, a story from your childhood that explains who you are as a writer or as a person.

A:  My mother was a Children's Theatre Director and she put me in all of her plays as a kid... God bless her. I loved being on stage, but what i really loved was being in a theatre with a bunch of people all working together for a unified goal. I loved just sitting backstage and seeing everyone get along and crack jokes. People need extended families. I write about families and the individual's primitive need to connect and feel appreciated. All my characters would be super happy if a theatre company took them in and told them they were special.

Q:  What kind of theater excites you?

A:  First, it has to be funny. I don't like anything that goes more than a few minutes without a laugh. Second, it has to have emotional substance. I hate irony and too cool for school shit. Fucking feel something ya bitch! Third, it has to move. I can sit through a 5 hour play that moves like a racehorse ten times easier than a 20 minute one act that moves like a snail in the dirt. Outside of those three things, i'll go on any journey a team of artists wants to take me on. Oh yeah... and i love great acting. I like talented and skilled wounded people playing normal wounded people.

Q:  What advice do you have for playwrights just starting out?

A:  Write stuff you want to see. That's it. This business if full of empty promises and useless smiles. Just write shit you can read on the subway that makes you feel like your life is worth a damn. Also, listen to actors during the rehearsal process. Always trust them when they want to dirty their character. Never trust them when they want to clean up their character.

Q:  Plugs, please:

A:  I don't have them yet. I'm the only one in my company not losing my hair. 

I Interview Playwrights Part 132: Francine Volpe

Francine Volpe



Hometown:   Queens. Home of the badass. Joey Ramone, Donald Trump, Johnny Thunders, John McEnroe, Salt N Pepa, and Bob and Harvey Weinstein.

Current Town:   Brooklyn. About two and a half miles from where I grew up.

Q:  What are you working on now?

A:  Turgor. It’s the rigidity that gives a plant its shape. A backbone, if you will. The play is about Larissa, a young-ish woman with a special needs child. She goes on a date, her first in a long time, and has a teenage boy babysit the little girl.

We learn that the boy is the son of Larissa’s former counselor - a man rumored to be a cad and with whom Larissa was infatuated with as a teenager.  The next day, Larissa confronts the boy, claiming that her autistic child communicated to her, non-verbally, that she was molested.  The boy’s father, her former counselor, then shows up to talk Larissa out of pressing charges.

During the course of the play one should change their mind about what happened during the night in question and whether the mess is the fault of the angry teenager, his emotionally irresponsible father, Larissa’s one-night stand who turns out to have a murky past, or Larissa herself who may or may not suffer from a form of Munchhausen’s.

The play is called Turgor, because I think when you behave in a way that is immature (and by immature I mean evil) I think it feels like you are protecting who you are. And you are. You are protecting yourself from changing. So, for example, a man will justify cheating on his spouse because he had to “listen to his heart”. Or a woman will drive her family into the ground with some form of addiction and later explain that her domestic life just wasn’t “who she was”. I’ve been around enough two-year-olds to know that grabbing another kid’s toy must feel like a matter of life or death to them. I don’t think they negotiate between wanting to please their mother and wanting the toy. I think it is between wanting to please their mother and wanting to retain a semblance of autonomy, a sense of self.

Hopefully audiences will vacillate with Larissa between the feeling that she must be unbending against forces that conspire to destroy her and the fear that her rigidity, her unwillingness to grow is, and has always been, the source of her anguish.

Q:  You were the Lit Mgr for the very cool Off Broadway theater Studio Dante. What was that like?

A:  It was a privilege. An invaluable experience. For a long time I was the only staff member so I got to be involved in all aspects of bringing a play to fruition from development through opening night which informed my own work tremendously. We only produced new plays so there was a hell of a learning curve. Plus Victoria and Michael Imperioli (The Artistic Directors of SD) are the two most generous people I know. I learned from them.

Q:  What else are you up to? Are you teaching?

A:  I am teaching. I teach playwriting and screenwriting at Space On White (a very pleasant studio). I’m especially excited about the screenwriting classes. Every week I ask students to watch a brilliant film and a bad film. In class I show samples from the great film to demonstrate technique. Then I show comparable samples from the bad film. This demonstration makes it very difficult to write bad dialogue or flimsy characters.

Q:  What kind of theater excites you?

A:  Plays that demonstrate what we don’t have the vocabulary to explain.

Q:  What advice do you have for playwrights just starting out?

A:  Learn how to write an old-fashioned story. I spent a decade working very hard to avoid this step. That was a mistake.  Also, love your peers. Be as generous and supportive to the playwrights around you as you possibly can. When things go badly for you they’re the only ones who return your phone calls.

I Interview Playwrights Part 131: Julie Marie Myatt

Julie Marie Myatt

Hometown:
I don't really have a hometown. My dad was in the Marine Corps, so I moved around the country growing up. The apartment I live in now is the longest I've ever lived in one space: 6 years.

Current Town:
Los Angeles. Los Feliz neighborhood. It's a great place to live.

Q:  What are you working on now?

A:  I'm working on a new play commission for the Roundabout Theatre.

Q:  Tell me about The Ted Schmitt Award and the play you won it with.

A:  The Ted Schmitt Award is given by the Los Angeles Drama Critics Circle for what they considered an "outstanding new play." They kindly gave it to me for my play, THE HAPPY ONES that was commissioned by and premiered at South Coast Repertory in October.

Q:  Tell me, if you will, a story from your childhood that explains who you are as a writer or as a person.

A:  Hmm...let's see..I think rather than one story, I have a series of images...and the most common or clear image is me sitting in the back seat of the car with my sister, and my parents up front, and we are moving to some new place...we'd probably been to McDonalds for lunch (that was special then) and eaten it in the car, as my dad always had to stay on schedule...and the car was quiet. My sister would be reading something. My dad would be smoking. My mother would be cleaning up all our lunch trash we handed her...and I would be staring out the window...This quiet seemed to last for hours, as we all became good at creating our own private space in that car. I would never read or doing anything else but stare out my window. I'd watch every farm, every kid on a bike, every old woman on a porch, every dog or horse on the run, every road sign and tractor, every field of corn, every lake or mountain...I studied the landscape of this country, mile by mile...and I think that collection of images, has became the palette for my life as a writer.

Q:  If you could change one thing about theater, what would it be?

A:  The price.

Q:  What kind of theater excites you?

A:  The kind of of theater that makes me forget where I am and opens up my chest. I want to be transformed by an emotional experience.

Q:  What advice do you have for playwrights just starting out?

A:  Read everything. Not just plays. Read novels. Read a lot of poetry. The imagery and conservation of language in poetry, is wonderful for playwriting. And keep writing, no matter what. Trust your voice is worth being heard.