As Roseanne Roseannadanna used to say, "it's always something."

Sometimes you write a play and although it seems like it has good-bordering-on-great possibilities, it languishes in the maybe-some-day file. The play at issue, "The Lemon", focuses on the trials and tribulations of a woman attempting to get help to remove her car, a "lemon"  stalled in a busy intersection blocking traffic.

A 15-minute comedy play-ette as I like to call my short but sweet stories, it has been tinkered with over the years including modifications to strengthen the flow of dialogue. The saga involves the use of a public pay phone and therein lies the problem.

In order to make my plays relevant, frequent updates are done, however - as frequently mentioned in my blogs, it's always the 'howevers' that get you in the end - this is a situation requiring a reappraisal of its viability.

Public pay phones are becoming a rarity and according to Wikipedia, "since 2007, the number of payphones in the United States in operation has declined by 48%. In July 2009, AT&T officially stopped supporting the Public Payphone service. Over 139,000 locations were sold in 2009."

In this play-ette, the main character (Penny) is attempting to convince the user of the pay phone to allow her to arrange for her "lemon" to be towed to a garage since her cell phone is dead. Here's what I mean:

PENNY
I don't believe this! How many more things can go wrong, today?

SOUND: car horns. PENNY looks off into the distance and makes an obscene gesture with hand

(cont'd. PENNY)  'Blow it out your nose, idiots! You'll get more out of that!' I don't believe it. Get a new cell phone and forget to charge it.

(aside to female in phone booth)

PENNY (owner of car/lemon)

'Scuse me - are you gonna be much longer?

FEMALE PHONE USER (FPU)
Do you mind? I'm almost finished. Why don't you use your cell phone?

PENNY
Duhhh! Don't you think I would if I could? Humor me for thirty seconds and perhaps you'll understand my dilemma. Over there in the middle of the intersection - see that car?

FPU
You mean the orange-colored wreck? You actually own that? I'd keep it to myself if I was you.

PENNY
I bought the rusting chunk of junk a week ago and it died on me, today. There's a sucker born every minute the dealer saw a big red "S" right here on my forehead. Desperation causes one to make questionable decisions

FPU
Okay. I looked at your car. Now can I finish my conversation? The more you interrupt, the longer it'll take

(FPU turns away - PENNY taps her on the back)

PENNY
Perhaps I'm not making myself clear. I'm not a violent person by nature - not at all - but you're pushing my buttons. Wait - I made a joke...get it? Public phone booth...push the buttons... In my personal angst, I still manage to find humor. I'm a survivor alright.
Gotta take things in my own hands...

(PENNY reaches over, disconnects and grabs the phone)

FPU
How dare you! You...you...crazy woman. Get away from me!

PENNY
How dare I? How dare I, you ask? How many times did I tell you that I had to make a desperate phone call but did you listen? Nooooooo! Your phone conversation took precedent over my needs, so I took things into my own hands in the true sense of the word. If you don't mind and even if you do, my phone call needs privacy so block your ears and turn away. Better still, go away

FPU
Excuse me? After the way you interrupted my conversation. I think not

PENNY
(rummaging through handbag)
Let's see here...where's my phone directory...course there's one on my cell if it was working... The handbag is so big, everything gets lost inside. Aha! So this is where my salami sandwich went. Phew! Would you mind tossing it into the trash over there?

FPU
I think not. Why don't you go  throw it in, yourself. It's a mere few feet away

PENNY
Surrrre - uh-huh... You think I'm an idiot?

FPU
The thought did cross my mind in addition to you being insane.

PENNY
I take one step away from here and you jump in and take control over the phone, again. I think not! I'll just put it back in my handbag and toss it when you're gone

FPU
That is truly disgusting. You're gonna contaminate the phone

PENNY
So then you better not use it. Let's see here - where's the number of my dealership. I should'a filed it under 'losers'. Here it is...


And so their repartee continues, the two attempting to gain and retain control over the phone. The issue is if the play is still relevant and/or if it can be updated and relevant for today's society. Still, when it's all done and written, I do like this short play...  As mentioned at the beginning, it's always something.

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Been adding to "Seeds" although not as often as I like or should. Progress is dependent upon sudden brain storms or those rare but very welcome "eureka!" moments that give clarification to the story line.

Somehow, and after reading over what currently exists, there seems to be - at least in my mind - that the direction the play is taking, is too predictable bordering on blech. The subject, an accidental meeting of two people in a park, one of whom seems to have what could be classified an unusual gravitation to pigeons, is interesting. However - as mentioned numerous times in this blog, it's always the 'howevers' in life that get you - it's too ordinary and needed a shake-up. So...

A new character has been added. Elwood P. Dowd had his rabbit, Harvey, and now Sylvia Perkins has joined his league with her friend of a feather, Mr. Bird, a pigeon.

Following yet another run in with Hal, a  park supervisor, who wants to maintain cleanliness and limit the appearance of pigeon poo in his territory, Julie feels a moral responsibility to help Sylvia. The two return to Julie's apartment and at the mention of the word "bath" and a failed attempt to remove Sylvia's weather-worn rain coat, Mr. Bird suddenly puts in an appearance, in a manner of speaking.  Maybe it'll work and maybe it won't - hav'ta see where this will take me, if anywhere.

Yet another snippet of dialogue from "Seeds." Julie attempts to convince Sylvia to stay for supper and warm up

You are such a joker, Mr. Bird!’ Mr. Bird wants to know what you think of his joke. It’s one of his best

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My muse paid me a visit this week and it's about time, too. It's been somewhat of a dry spell pursuing the continuing story of Julie, the park jogger, and her chance meeting with Sylvia, the ultimate pigeon lover. The story is slowly developing in an on-again, off-again fashion.

Yet another snippet:

An encounter with Hal the park supervisor, warns Sylvia that more significant steps will be taken if she refuses to cease and desist the feeding of her feathered friends.

 

Look at the time! Really gotta go. Don’t you just love these pretzels?

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Had one of those "eureka!" moments while working on my play this morning and not really a surprising revelation to writers.

Inspiration comes in moments.

Sometimes, too frequently as I've bemoaned in previous blog entries, a writer can sit in front of a computer staring at the white screen to the point of snow blindness, anticipating a flurry of ideas to flood in. For me, it's not usually the result of a lack of ideas but the inability to hone in on one interesting scenario that could be adapted into a play. Dozens of potential story ideas that didn't pan out are currently stored in the "save" file, which hopefully will be scrutinized and reviewed at a future date. Then there are those unfortunately rare occasions when you get that gut feeling that whatever you're writing is sheer genius.

"So given the upbeat mood, one assumes that "Seeds" is moving along?"

So far it's actually writing itself, in that the characters necessitate further exploration. The story focuses on two females whose paths cross in an unexpected way and place. Good Samaritan, Julie, steps out of her comfort zone and stops to intervene in what she believes to be a fellow individual in need of her help. She feels compelled to intrude in Sylvia's routine of feeding pigeons given the circumstances of their meeting up. Julie realizes that not everyone wants to be helped and that you can't help a person if they don't want to help themselves or see themselves requiring help. Therein lays her challenge and dilemma.

Another character has been introduced in the form of  Burt, who works for the park department. In his capacity as park supervisor and in spite of numerous verbal reprimands, he warns her (Sylvia) that he has been ordered to take stronger measures to discourage the presence of her flying friends. The challenge is how Sylvia will respond to Burt's threat and what steps will she take to ensure the safety of her feathered friends? How will this affect the friendship between Sylvia and Julie?

BURT

I was just warning Sylvia that she has to stop feeding the pigeons. It's not like I haven't told her a thousand times before, but I'm getting heat from the director to take more action, which she won't like

SYLVIA

I've tried to explain the situation to my friends, here, but they don't listen for whatever reason. Don't think they like you, Burt

JULIE

Never met a pigeon lover like Sylvia. Comes here every day to feed them. Why I don't know - that is to say, a person has to take a rest now and then to take care of themselves. I was telling her she's not dressed for this weather and needs warmer clothes. We're sharing a hot pretzel and coffee. Here's your pretzel, Sylvia

And so the dance continues...Sylvia defending her pigeons, Julie reaching out to help a fellow human being and developing a new friendship and Burt about to make his move.

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Been adding dialogue and fleshing out the characters in the extended version of "Pigeon Feed" a.k.a. For the Birds. Always amazed while in the writing process, how some plays (few and far between) write themselves and the characters almost dictate the direction they should take.

Meanwhile, here is a snippet from the opening of the play. The best way to describe it would be a comedy/drama, in that as in life, there are elements of comedy mixed with drama. Formatting is strictly to share this piece from the play.

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It's been an on-off situation but there has been some advancement in re-writing "Old Soldiers." The characters, first introduced in a short story a while ago, caught my imagination and over the years the quartet of senior service veterans have participated in many theatrical scenarios. However - it's always the 'howevers' in life that get you - somehow there has been a lack of direction as to how their story should play out.

The necessity or impetus for turning it into a play was to enter it the BBC International Radio Playwriting Competition a few years ago. The undertaking was made even more challenging since the medium of radio requires sound effects to accompany the dialogue, in place of visual movement. It was a challenge and in spite of a successful conversion, the play didn't win or receive recognition. Still, when it's all said and done or written, it was an interesting pursuit but probably something I will pass on in the future.

My philosophy in as far as rejections are concerned is to moan/groan and agonize the reason for them not recognizing genius when they read it, following which to forget about it for a while. This allows time for introspection and objectivity upon re-reading the play in preparation for the editing process.

To this end, some decisions have or are in the process of being made as to the story line. In the original version submitted to the BBC competition, there were physical transitions to various locales, which were plausible given the medium, whereas the story now takes place in one place being the pub or bar for the entire play.

- in the initial short story,  the main character, Joe McKenna had a dog, which has been added in the updated version - so far. The rationale behind including a dog is that as a lonely, elderly and cantankerous service veteran, the dog would be his reason for his existence.
- although most of the original characters remain, a few newcomers are joining the quartet: a food/drink inspector who comes to do a regular inspection of the bar premises, a small group of young punks who take an dislike to the old soldiers, especially Joe

Here is an abbreviated version of the synopsis, which supplies some background on the characters:

"As an ex-army man and soldier, eighty-eight year old Joe McKenna is a man of habit. A widower, he lives in a small apartment with his only companion, a 12 year old dog, Daisy. The aging process is taking its toll physically and emotionally, turning him into a bitter man full of resentment towards society and what he perceives to be life’s injustices. He is a lonely soul with too much time to think about the past and knowing that the future will leave him dependent on the kindness of others.

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Once again as has been the case on too many occasions, a rejection slip slipped in my email 'in' box. Somehow, in spite of nice, genteel words of apology by the theatre or whoever is in charge of the rejection notices, it doesn't get easier.

Really, given my former position as a freelance newspaper columnist/writer for many years, rejection slips aren't an unusual occurrence, but receiving playwriting-related rejections is a downer.

This time the recipient of the rebuff was one of my favorite short plays, "The Lemon." A short comedy, it focuses on the trials and tribulations of a woman attempting to contact a towing company in order to get her car removed, while trying to convince a public phone user to make the call.  In spite of the usual assurances that the theatre will keep the play for possible future use, it was a disheartening notice. Dejection, as any writer will attest, never gets easier.

Looking back, none of my plays have yet to be produced in spite of witty dialogue, interesting plots and good spelling and punctuation. Look - gotta look for positive points where I can find them! Had high hopes for "The Shrubs", which didn't materialize and my short plays came back home without a successful showing.

Today while skimming through potential submission opportunities, came across a notification that the deadline for the BBC International Radio Playwriting Competition is coming up at the end of January 2016. In the past on two occasions, attempts to convert a play and a short story into radio format met with rejection. I'm toying with the idea - that's as far as it's progressed - of trying to convert "The Lemon" into a radio play. Given the fast approaching deadline, starting a new play isn't practical and it would be a personal challenge to see what can be accomplished in a month. Who knows...

Meanwhile, old soldier Joe McKenna and his vet pals are still meeting at the neighborhood bar, waiting for a new direction from the playwright. This play keeps calling me back in spite of self-declarations to let it die in peace. But it won't. There is something about the characters and the story line that is compelling and begging to be told.

"We ain't gettin' any younger," they all keep reminding me.

Neither are any of us, guys. Neither are any of us... Read the rest of this post

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On November 11th, Remembrance Day, at the eleventh hour on the eleventh day of the eleventh month, we remember them.

"Old Soldiers" which started out as a short story, came about as a result of an interview with some old soldiers/veterans for a newspaper column that I was writing at the time. Was drawn back to the story over time and as is my habit, tweaked it over the years and somehow the main focus of the story, Joe McKenna, seemed to take on a life of his own, along with his service buddies. One of my many (big on this aspect) re-writes resulted in an attempt to turn it as a radio play that was  entered in the BBC International Playwriting Competition.  Needless to say it didn't win but thought I'd share the second scene in this blog. It's still in the editing process (so what else is new). Formatting went askew in places during cut-and-paste.

To set the stage so to speak, JOE MCKENNA is a disillusioned old veteran who saw action and is angry with the world. He and his buddies are relics from another era who are afflicted with a variety of debilitating conditions, and the death of one of them hits Joe particularly hard. He decides to make a personal statement to make his views known at a remembrance day service in a park and along the way fate steps in when he meets up with a young boy (TIM) and his mother.


SCENE: A PARK.

AT RISE: Joe McKenna is slowly making his way to where the Remembrance Day service is taking place in a park. His body racked with pain, he stops to sit down on a bench. A military band can be heard in the distance playing band music and the voice speaking through a loud speaker system.


JOE:                           Look at ‘em all! Sheep – a bunch of bloody sheep!

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Hate to see a straight line indicating nobody has dropped by my playwriting blog, as is the case presently. Actually, this is applicable to all my blogs. As writers, the purpose of sharing our thoughts via a blog is to reach the public in the hope that something we have written strike their fancy or that they see and read as interesting. A straight line means nobody finds the blog worthwhile enough to drop by. Don't like straight lines but it goes as it goes. Anyway...

Still sending out my plays and short play-ettes here, there and everywhere and hoping to hit pay-dirt. Wish I could report some progress but alas and alack, it's still a waiting game. I've to confess that I've been hesitant to enter my ten-minute plays in competitions where a submission fee is required - reading fee as it is called - and no financial compensation is offered. Any feedback on this? It's nice to think that our time writing the play, be it a short one, is worth a token payment.

Came across a theatre recently that was holding a competition for full 2-act plays but they would only accept snail-mail-in submissions. There is a part of me that understands their rationale since having to print up potentially usable plays costs money and most theatres are short of funds these days. If this is the case and at least in my mind, it would be easier then to read plays submitted electronically, no? At least in my case, my plays have been edited so many times that printing each copy would cost a fortune, and then there's the postage...

Amazing how easy it is to come up with complaints about the unfair system. I mean, who else you gonna blame? Oneself? Neh...

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In his playwriting blog, "The Producer's Perspective," Broadway producer, Ken Davenport, shared his thoughts and dispensed some advice to aspiring playwrights. In particular his contention that "new-er" playwrights over-write their plays.

This caught my attention and got me thinking about my own plays and whether they are over-written. Perhaps (speculation number gazillion) this could be yet another reason and rationalization why my plays have yet to see a stage.

Not just long, Ken shared in the blog, but too wordy (my interpretation). There is a tendency to write too much to ensure that the audience grasps what the playwright is attempting to put across.

The problem from my perspective is that it's difficult to know how much is too much.  I've strived to keep physical direction to a minimum and to focus upon the dialogue and more importantly, the story line. So if indeed I'm guilty of over-writing, it's difficult to ascertain if and where the edits should be made, having edited various parts incessantly over time.

Contributed my two-cents-worth to the topic in the form of a comment, "frequently, we never hear back again as to whether a play is over-written or whatever else is wrong." As I've frequently bemoaned and shared that the submission process more often than not results in never hearing anything back, period.

On one occasion and to a theatre's credit, part of its commitment to playwriting, a submission resulted in a complete analysis of the strengths and weaknesses of the play, including suggestions as to changes that would strengthen its overall quality. How refreshing.

In the end, it's a waiting game dependent upon hope that someone, somewhere, will see the potential. Perhaps - pure speculation (again) on my part - over-writing is involved or maybe it's a case of under-writing. Go know.

Meanwhile, here's the coordinates to sign up for Ken Davenport's blog: https://www.theproducersperspective.com/welcome-to-the-producers-perspective-forum

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Nothing really new to report but for anybody keeping up with the score so far - zero-zero - for the playwright.

Really (she wrote emphasizing the really) made a concerted effort to submit my literary gems (at least in my eyes they are) to various theatres and related opportunities. Received a response from perhaps one with the usual form letter: "Dear Playwright." At least an effort could have been made to address our kind by our given name. I mean, if I'm going to be given bad news, at least relate it personally to me. Don't you think?

Where was I now...oh yeah. 'Dear Playwright, given the huge response to our call for submissions, unfortunately your play will not be among this year's productions.' There is more blah-blah but in the end - who cares. Right? Guess I should be happy that at least I received a response, be it a negative one.

Once the brain acknowledges a rejection, the questions and doubts start popping up like:

- maybe I shouldn't have done re-write # 7,500
- maybe I'm deluding myself into believing I can write plays
- maybe I should adapt my title to "writer-of-plays-that-are-waiting-for-production"
- maybe I'm living in the wrong country
- maybe I'm using the wrong font - that has to be it. Right?
- what happens if I run out of theatres in which to submit?
- what happens if I'm submitting to the same theatres having forgotten to note the lucky recipients?

And so they continue, those insidious doubts that show up in the quiet of the night, filling the mind of the writer-of-plays-that-are-waiting-for- production with doubt and bewilderment. Know what I mean?

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A small sampling from a play written as a joint project, which started out as an add-to-the-story writing exercise with bits and pieces added over time. Like most of my plays, it's a comedy but with dramatic overtones.  Listed only the three main characters in this snippet.






BESS MALONE, 50’s, Widow































































































                        clothes litter the floor and a torn curtain hangs from a broken rod and
                        blackened pots and pans sit on top of the stove


Whoever you are, don’t even twitch or blink an eye. I got a shotgun [pointed directly at your heart so’s you might as well start sayin’ your prayers now

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As mentioned on numerous occasions in this blog, patience isn't one of my strong points. This usually doesn't work in my favor especially when it comes to waiting for updates/news regarding the fate of my plays. Many of them took cyber trips to numerous geographical locations around the globe in the hope that they would see a stage but so far, no response one way or the other.

According to the various playwriting related sites where this topic is discussed and digested, this is not a good sign but perhaps no definitive decision has been made as to their stage-a-bility. At least that's what I tell myself.

There is a pattern as to my follow up process, which includes avowing to myself that I will wait to receive "the word."

"Gotta give it time," I tell myself. "People don't respond because you want them to. Your plays are among hundreds, maybe thousands, that are submitted with dreams of production."

Patience today, patience tomorrow, inevitably, and when experiencing a particularly discouraging "why do I bother" or "maybe my plays suck" period, a follow-up e-mail is sent out. Usually, the end result is no response followed by a period of "why didn't I wait."

Upon reflection, perhaps a follow-up questionnaire to the submitted theatres would facilitate the process. Something to the effect:

Dear blah-blah (insert theatre name/producer/to whom it may concern),

Recently, (insert date that play was submitted), you were the lucky recipient of my play, blah-blah (insert name of play).

It has been (number of days/weeks/months/years/who remembers) since there has been any updates as to whether said play strikes your fancy. Perhaps the lack of communication on your part is a result of (pick one) a) stunning dialogue requiring further thought b) seeking a period of time in which to program the play to optimize audience participation  c) unable to open file.

When could a decision on its fate one way or the other be expected: a) days b) months c)years d) never (please circle one)

Yours forever in hope,

A. Playwright

It's worth a shot. Am I right?

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Somehow - perhaps it's the arrival of Spring and all that it promises - one anticipates updates as to the fate of one's (mine of course) literary send-outs. More specifically and to put it in simply and succinctly ('that's a lot of sss's, Eleanor'), will any of my plays see a stage this year.

Throughout the year minor dialogue changes were made, a few lines were eliminated or added but for the most part they were sent on their way based on the strength of the story line and characters, to seek their fate. Waiting to receive news about one's plays is comparable, at least for me, to sending your children out to seek their fortune in the jungle of life (feeling very philosophical today) for their own good, if not for the caregiver's good. So they're all "out there" and the wait for any updates is all-consuming wondering and hypothesizing what's happening at the 'other end', so to speak.

"How many more plays are left to be read?" a literary manager might ask a theatre producer and play readers while assessing the amount of plays still waiting to be read  "Seems like there are thousands more waiting to be read."

"We have to narrow it down to just a few promising plays, already," the literary manager will/could/might declare, while checking her/his cell phone for phone messages. "Time is marching on and we have to choose some potential money-makers for the coming season."

"I've come across a promising production," one of the readers could suggest, "although the playwright doesn't have any track record. The play, though, is really a good read."

"Nothing produced, anywhere, in the whole wide world?" the producer would ask of the reader.

"Not according to her biography and CV but really - she's good and this play is and an entertaining read  - really funny!" the reader would affirm.

"Could be problematic if she hasn't got a recognizable name that could sell tickets, though," the literary manager and/or producer would put forward.

"But it's a really good play," the reader would insist. "Why not give her a chance?"

"Not bankable," the literary manager and/or producer would answer, somewhat sadly (one would hope). "File away for future considerations."

Pure speculation on my part but one has to do something waiting for "the word". Then again, depending on what the word is, perhaps ignorance is bliss.

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Sitting down in front of the computer, chin in hand and thinking about playwriting. Again. Note the word, "thinking" but not the actual act of taking fingers to keyboard and producing some worthwhile dialogue. Still further delayed the process by going over finished plays and assessing whether they need fixing or editing, something I'm prone to do in both my writing and painting. Frequently, the end result is ruining any progress on whatever project I'm "fixing."

I'm an inordinate "fixer" of all my artistic undertakings, which really don't require further adjusting. Recently, I applied what I swore were the absolute final strokes to a black and white painting first started three years ago, which has been "fixed" over the years. Perhaps this will be the reality and then again, who knows.

In as far as my plays are concerned, some have been altered to the point where all objectivity has been  lost as to the strongest version. Most often, the changes are relegated to small dialogue adjustments or altering what appears to me to be a weak a scene. In the end, a decision has to be made which version is the best version to submit, followed by a period of self-doubt and whether my plays are actually produce-able. Perhaps this is a common pattern with writers in general in that the selection of the right words is paramount to the whole story line. In as far as dialogue is concerned, the character has to utter words and phrases that suit her/his mannerisms, personality and mien and therein lies the challenge.

Although the actual act of submitting plays is a positive move, there is also the self-doubt that creeps in  waiting for updates on their fate. Negative thoughts like:

- perhaps the wrong version was sent - whatever that is
- maybe I don't have what it takes to be a "real" playwright
- given the volume of experienced and produced playwrights, many of whom are familiar names to   
  the public and within the theatre community, do my literary gems stand a chance?

And so the uncertainty continues but something drives me to persevere. The possibility, whatever the odds that  there  is a theatre "out there" somewhere that will see something special in my plays is enough to keep me going and press on. Meanwhile, some fine tuning of the dialogue and changes to the story arc is required to Dead Writes. Really.

P.S.: just read that Larry David's new play, "Fish In the Dark" is a big hit on Broadway. It should only happen to me!  Mazel-tov, Larry...or Mr. David. Good to note that good comedy will always draw a crowd.

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Thought I'd share some thoughts about submission - of the literary type. As is the case with most playwrights, I'm continually searching the web for possible good fits for my literary babies. They really are like babies given the attention, work and copious amounts of love that go into their creation. As is the case with offspring who reach maturity, there is a point where one has to part with them for their own good - and mine.

Progress has been achieved in the submission process including a rejection letter accompanied by a wonderful critique and evaluation of the submitted play. Theatres that are open to unsolicited submissions must be the recipients of thousands of plays and understandably, responding to playwrights individually isn't practical. It's commendable, therefore, when a theatre takes the time to not only respond to a play submission but actually take the time in writing to point out the plays strengths and weaknesses and make suggestions as to changes that would strengthen the overall story line. Let's say that it was one of the nicest rejections received to date.

Some of my other plays were sent packing to try their luck and as yet there has been no response. As if the playwriting process isn't difficult enough, the waiting period to hear back one way or the other is equally if not more stressful. Frequently, there is no response, which in itself is an indication of their fate.

I'm now taking precautions to e-mail my plays to myself before sending them out to ensure that it is in a readable format for the recipients. This move came about after encountering a problem submitting a play electronically when converting one of the older files to the latest version. Checking to ensure the play was successfully sent, somehow the text ended up in the wrong visual format. After a period of ranting and raving and some hair pulling, literally and figuratively, I decided to re-send in spite of a nagging, internal voice telling me to hold off for a bit. Re-sent it, anyway, accompanied by a two-sentence explanation only to discover the next day upon re-examination that the text somehow had adjusted itself and was visually perfect. Also re-confirmed my belief to always heed that inner voice.

While waiting for news, I'm continuing working on "Dead Writes", a fantasy with some comedic tones combined with interesting moral messages and dilemmas for the characters. Definitely a challenge but one worth meeting. Then again, the act of writing plays is always a challenge, no matter what.

When asked the question of the time it takes to complete a play, I quote the line expressed by Edward Albee: "People often ask me how long it takes me to write a play, and I tell them 'all my life." And then some.

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Started writing this play a while back and have been slowly - accent on the slowly - adding-to and tweaking the play over time. Recently gave it yet another read and after deep thought and concentration, have finally come to what I believe and hope to be, a good ending. Still not finished, yet, but I've been making progress, which in itself is a good omen. Sometimes omens are all we have to propel us along.

I've shared bits and pieces of it here before but here is the latest incarnation. The cast list will most likely grow slightly. I've adapted it for this blog but the cutting and pasting isn't ideal. Comments welcome.

The story: Sometimes lessons in life come at a cost especially when the cost involves sacrifice on behalf of another.

CAST OF CHARACTERS










         


CHARLOTTE


'Scuse me…hello'? Could you tell me…? Wait a minute. Don't ignore me. You are so rude!’


Lemme be blunt like the real me: who's the corpse?


What is your problem? A name - that's all I want! It's not a lot to ask.  Fine. Suit yourself. I'll find out on my own…creep!
          

JOSIAH

 

CHARLOTTE

You could give a person a heart attack sneaking up like that. And I thought I looked bad in this outfit? If you don’t mind me saying, sir, you look like a bad case of indigestion after eating too many Halloween candies. I've been trying to find out what's going on but the guy over there is ignoring me. Some people just don’t have any manners

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

I get it now! This place is one of those new theme clubs and you're the bartender, right? Explains a lot especially the look. So – like - you doing Liberace? That would explain my dress, too. Go figure a funeral parlor would double as a club. So where’s the booze?

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

 

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

(Aside to mourners): ‘This is a surprise party, right? It's all a big joke. I should have known. Whose birthday is it? 'Ya don't hafta worry 'bout me giving it away!  Hello? I’m talking to you all!’

Weird. They're all ignoring me like I wasn’t here or something. Dumb…dumb…dumb. Ignorance, thy name is Charlotte! This is a "for real " funeral. That has'ta be it and this here is a real body in a real coffin! Okay –so – then - why am I here? Must be somebody I knew…

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

 

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

(backing away)

 

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

JANICE

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

He can't hear you

 

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

- sssh! Talk softer. We're gonna get kicked out and I'll never find out who's in the coffin

MINISTER

 

'She didn't have any, so move on!'

MINISTER

'Good riddance to bad rubbish!'

MINISTER

 

MINISTER

CHARLOTTE

MINISTER

 

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

JOSIAH

CHARLOTTE

 

JOSIAH

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…I'm onlythe grandmother. Why should you share a happy event with me? So, introduce me to your fiancey

































                       









         
           standing position, waving arms as he speaks






           her on the cheek but she pulls away

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Right now, people reading this are probably saying to themselves, "Eleanor hasn't given us any updates on her plays. I'd love to know how things are going with her." Okay - maybe the last sentence is a bit presumptuous on my part but maybe there are persons 'out there' who are curious.

Actually, I've been focusing a lot of my effort searching for a new literary address for my "babies." This includes cyber queries as to whether they would be welcome, to be followed by the actual execution (sounds so macabre) of hitting the 'send' key taking the plays on their cyber journeys. Waiting to receive news and/or updates on their suitability is stressful especially since theatres frequently restrict their responses to playwrights with plays in which they have an interest. It somehow doesn't seem logical to send a follow up if, say, there has been no response for a lengthy period of time. Then again, perhaps a reminder could be helpful:


"Dear blah-blah,

You might not remember me but five years ago (maybe more), I submitted my play to you/your theater/your literary manager. Having never heard back, I'm wondering if perhaps you never received it or somehow, it got deleted in your files (these things happen). Let me know if you'd like me to re-send the play and I'd be happy to oblige.

Yours in waiting,

Eleanor
(P.S. I'd very much appreciate it if you could advise me as to which play I sent you, since my cat did a dance on my keyboard and lost many of my files).


In as far as the plays themselves, I'm reviewing the content of "Retribution" with the intent of submitting it to an interesting competition. At the half-way point, I've made some minor changes but still very pleased with the overall content. The subject matter definitely isn't for everybody but the play itself  is a riveting drama.

Haven't read "Old Soldiers" since receiving the rejection advisement notice a few months ago. I had a gut feeling that it was on its way but it didn't make its reception any easier. A bit of ranting and raving occurred for a day or two followed by avowing to re-write. Thing is with rejection notices, rarely is there an accompanying explanation as to the reasons for the refusal, consequently there is always the nagging question as to why and what went wrong. In any case, time for a re-evaluation and the dastardly re-write(s) that will follow. It will require a complete overhaul having been written for radio and we'll have to see whether it's even feasible to turn it into a play. Some characters will have to be dropped in addition to scene changes and adaptations.

The newest playwriting project, "Storm Warning" is on the front burner. I've completed four scenes and I'm thinking some character sketches are required to define the purpose of everyone and where they fit into the story line.

One of my oldie but definitely good play, "Dead Writes" parts of which I've shared here in this blog, requires finishing. Actually, it needs a middle before it can be ended. A comedy, the play has been started and abandoned a number of times. Maybe not "abandoned" since this implies finality. Let's say - put to rest in cyber space for periods.  No particular reason other than I became distracted with other projects.

Finally, I'm toying with idea of writing a play based on a young teenage girl and her experiences growing up in the 1960's, while attending high school. Let's just say it's something I know about intimately. First though it back to work on Old Soldiers...maybe Dead Writes should be a priority since it's an older play...then again, Storm Warning is a fun challenge... Procrastination thy name is Eleanor.

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Perhaps it's the result of the ending of summer and the arrival of autumn, but it's play submission mode time. Somehow, the summer heat plus the sun shining down prompts the brain to enter into a state of lethargy, at least it does mine. All this is to say or write that now it's time to actively seek out homes for my literary 'babies."

Before the actual act of hitting the key that will send them off to parts unknown, they've been receiving a once-twice-and more evaluation for any necessary changes or modifications. Frequently, this assessment results in a re-examination of a/some play(s) followed by muttering of bad words, the end result of which is yet more revisions. Some of the plays have been updated to the point where it's difficult to recognize the original story line and conduct an objective assessment as to which version works best.

So where is all this sharing of inner angst and trepidation leading you may well be asking yourself. Came across a competition for a ten-minute play with the focus being "The Urban Jungle." A while back I wrote a piece entitled, "Waiting for Roach" featuring the end result of a meeting up of a young punk-mode adult male and a female senior citizen, which will work perfectly. The play-ette as I call short offerings, has never been submitted anywhere before having waited for the right occasion and right opportunity to share it with the world, or at least with the people running the competition.

In addition, I decided to share one of my favorite plays, "Neighbors" now re-named "The Shrubs" with a theatre. Upon reflection and somewhat interesting, this two-act play started out as a short 10-minute play as many of them do. After years of ignoring it for the most part, I was scanning over some of the file titles and this play jumped out at me. Somehow, in the shorter version, something seemed to be lacking and after reading it through, a story began to develop resulting in a re-working and its development into a full play. In any case, it has left home with my best wishes and hopes not to mention prayers, that others will enjoy the contents as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Meanwhile, my wedding play, "Make Me a Wedding" has also taken a few cyber trips. A comedy, this was my first endeavor in playwriting and my favorite but then I say that about all my plays. It was almost performed a while back but had to be abandoned due to a breakdown in the production. Let's just say that the undertaking was akin to "Noises Off" and leave it at that. To get back to the play, it elicits laughter every time I read it through and I do frequently. Here's hoping.

Last but certainly not least, my second-favorite play, "Gin: an Allegory for Playing the Game of Life" is still seeking new digs as they say. A comedy, the two-act play focuses on the long-time friendship of three women who discuss their lives and those of people their lives touch upon, during their weekly card game. When writing plays, I always envision the actors who would best suit the various roles and today decided that Barbra Streisand, "the" famous singer/actress would be ideal for the role of Becky. Barbra if you're reading this, the role is yours for the taking when it finds a new home.

It all starts with a dream and if you're gonna dream, you have to dream big. Barbra would understand.

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CHARLENE

 MITZI stands up with hands on hips, leans forward until her face  is directly in front of Brenda

MITZI

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