Still submitting and waiting for that first acceptance. I mean, I ain't gettin' any younger! Be that as it may...I'm back working on a play I started perhaps ten years ago with many edits and tinkering along the way. The more I read it - the more I realize that I really like it so I'm sharing the first ten or so pages with the world - or whoever happens to drop by. I should be so lucky!
Will provide updates as to its progress along the way. Meanwhile, enjoy. Feedback welcome.
DEAD WRITES
by Eleanor Tylbor
AT RISE: Funeral chapel. A group of people chat between themselves while waiting for the service to begin. A coffin is situated on an elevated stand in the middle of the room
FELICIA PEMBROOK, wearing a diaphanous dress, sits on the floor next to a coffin examining her surroundings. Slowly, she examines her body, touching her arms and legs
LIGHTING: Dim lighting, except for a coffin in the middle of the room, which is spot-lit with a white light.
SOUND: somber organ music.
FELICIA
What the hell… Really must'a tied one on last night. Weird though. No hangover like usual… No feelings, period
Staggering to a standing position she walks around the coffin, touching the surface while trying to peer inside. A somberly dressed male passes by, seemingly without noticing or acknowledging her presence
(cont’d) 'Scuse me…hello'?'
Man continues to ignore her, focusing and fixing the inside of the coffin
Is this a… for real funeral parlor? Shoot! What’s the matter with me? Uh duh! This is another of Phil’s jokes. Wait 'til I get him…
Man continues to ignore her
Don’t bother answering me or anything… Fine – your funeral. Hey - cracked a funeral joke! Anyway, I'll find out on my own!
A man (JOSIAH) enters and stands directly behind FELICIA.
He has white hair, is dressed in a white shirt and matching
white pants that glitter
JOSIAH
Perhaps I could be of assistance in some way?
FELICIA
Ho-ly shit. What do we have here? A human Christmas tree ornament
SOUND: thunderclap
JOSIAH
I beg your pardon? Were you talking to me?
FELICIA
Do you come with your own sound effects, too?
JOSIAH
We're quite witty, aren’t we? Just a suggestion here and take it for what’s it’s worth but your colorful use of language could prove to be problematic
FELICIA
Do tell! You an agent for the grammar police?
JOSIAH
Excuse me? Police?
FELICIA
Aha! A little nervous are we, when I mention “po-lice”? Perhaps you’ve dealt with them on occasion?
JOSIAH
In my business we deal with all types and police officers are very common where I work
FELICIA
Not surprised. You earn your living dressed like… that?
JOSIAH
Sorry?
FELICIA
I bet you are – and then some
Holds up her arm and exaggerates a very feminine walk
You know…Cher? Wigs? Makeup?
Looking around and speaking softly
Padded bra… panty hose. Does it ring a bell?
JOSIAH
(puzzled)
By: scriberess,
on 4/12/2008
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BARBIE, KEN & THE REST IN PLASTICVILLE
(the continuing saga of life among the plastic people)
by Eleanor Tylbor
Our story so far:
EXILED IN A WAREHOUSE DUE TO AN UNFORESEEN PRODUCT RECALL, THE PLASTICVILLE CREW WERE UNDER SEIGE BY A DEMOLITION COMPANY, SENT TO CLEAR OUT THE WAREHOUSE
BARBIE
(struggling to lift the lid of her box)
Somehow...we've...got...to...show...that...we're...here. Can't...move...this...top. If...only my...legs...would...bend...
G.I. JOE
Stop your moaning, soldier! You're part of the proudest fighting machine in the nation! Ten-shun!
BARBIE
Earth-to-G.I. Joe! Earth-to-G.I. Joe! Knock-knock! Anybody home?
G.I. JOE
Who's there? Anybody-home-who? Love 'em knock-knock jokes! Go on - tell me the punch line
BARBIE
No Joe - it's not a knock-knock joke. It's not funny one little bit! Like...we gotta find a way to tell those people we're here or else it's curtains for us
KEN
Surf's up! I hear it and the smell of salt water!
BARBIE
Ken...Ken...Ken... What you hear is the sound of heavy equipment and the smell of gasoline. Get a grip!
G.I. JOE
Yeah - get a life soldier sissy-boy! (sniffing) I just love the smell of gasoline in the morning! Hey soldiers - I think I got me an idea. I'm not quite sure yet but I feel something happening in my head. Wait a minute... Yeah - it's definitely an idea. Sometimes it's just dandruff but this time it's an idea...
KEN
Oh Gawd! We're gonna die!
(ALL THE BARBIES', KENS' AND GI JOE'S' IN THE BOXES, ECHO KEN'S WORDS)
BARBIES, KENS, GI JOES (TOGETHER): 'We're gonna diiiiie!'
G.I. JOE
(softly)
Ssssssh - quiet - everyone! The enemy is near! They think we can't hear them but I can. I've been trained to hear enemy talk. These aren't your run-of-the-mill, every-day, plastic ears, y'know! Keep your mouths shut and for gawd's sake - youze all, stop your snivelling! I can hear them... They're saying: 'Blow this place sky high!' I gotcha, you bastards! You ain't gonna get away with it! G.I. Joe is gonna blow us all to kingdom come! I got me one last grenade and...
BARBIE
No! Please! Listen to me, Joe! Babe! Soldier boy!
KEN
We're all gonna diiiiiie! I'm too young to die. I still got a lot of surfing to do!
KEN:(sung to: "Lot of Livin' to Do")
There are waves, just right for some surfing,
And I'm gonna get me a few,
Lots of curls waitin' in Hawaii,
Oh I got a lot of surfin' to doooooo!
BARBIE
Oh Ken - I love it when you sing! I almost forgot what a good voice you have
KEN
I know. Remember when I tried out for American Idol but they wouldn't let me sing to my surf board? Damn Simon! Damn Brits! What do they know about surfing? Oh babe! If only I could touch you! Remember how we used to watch the waves from your beach house, holding hands? The tips of our plastic fingers touching each other. It was magic! Waves came in...and then went out... Came in...and went out...
BARBIE
I get the picture. That seems like centuries ago! Oh why, oh why, must we deserve this fate?
G.I. JOE
Hey! As long as I got my one leg and arm - I'm gonna save us all! And don't forget I still got my teeth
KEN
...we don't have teeth, G.I....
G.I. JOE
Oh yeah. I knew that. Well...anyway. All I haf'ta do is pull this here string with my one good toe... And... Just a minute now...I'm almost there
BARBIE
No! Stop! You'll blow us all to bits!
G.I. JOE
Almost there...I got the end... just pull...
(SUDDENLY, THERE IS A HUGE BANG AND EXPLOSION. ALL THE BOXES AND THE LIDS FLY UP IN THE AIR)
KEN
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Surf's up!
BARBIE
(in mid-air)
My-my wardrobe! It's ruined! My life as a fashion icon is over! I am no longer the fashionista that everyone looks up to... The Bratts win in the end
G.I. JOE
Told you I'd get us outta here, babe! Look - there's my jeep down there! We're as good as free, babe!
(AS THEY SLOWLY FALL TO THE GROUND, ONE CAN ONLY SPECULATE AS TO WHERE THEY WILL END UP NEXT. WILL THEY BE FREE AGAIN OR ARE THEY FUGITIVES FROM JUSTICE?)
By: scriberess,
on 2/6/2008
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STRANGERS
(a silent play with no words spoken whatsoever)
By Eleanor Tylbor
GUY1 walks across the stage and is approached by GUY2.
GUY1 waves at GUY2 but GUY2 doesn't wave back.
GUY1 waves at GUY2 again, smiling.
GUY2 ignores him and turns his head sideways.
GUY1 rushes over to him and taps him on the shoulder, forcing GUY2 to acknowledge his presence
GUY2 turns to face him, pushes him backwards and attempts to rush away
GUY1 blocks his departure with an extended arm and moves his face close to GUY2's face, and points to his face
GUY2 backs up and attempts to flee
GUY1 chases after him but GUY2 moves too quickly.
GUY 1 drops his head and shakes it slowly and his shoulders droop indicating dejection
A FEMALE APPROACHES.
GUY1 lifts his head and focuses his attention on her. He scans her body with his eyes, taking in her figure. He smoothes his hair, fixes his shirt collar and adjusts his pants. She is reading while walking and he makes a point of bumping into her.
FEMALE, startled, drops book and takes step backward.
GUY1 smiles and bends over to pick up book. He glances at title and points at her - then at himself.
FEMALE grabs book out of his hand and attempts to move on, obviously leery of GUY1.
GUY1 extends his arm and touches her shoulder. She whirls around and hits him squarely across his face. He reels backwards and places his hand on his face, shaking his head in bewilderment and shrugs his shoulders
FEMALE removes her purse that is hanging on her shoulder and hits him on his shoulders - then focuses her attention on the book and moves on
GUY1 drops down on to the floor, drops his head and it's obvious by his heaving shoulders that he is sobbing. He shakes his head in frustration while pounding the floor with his fists.
He suddenly jumps up after spotting a CLOWN, who is puffing away on a cigarette. GUY1 jumps up and down in excitement, runs towards clown in an attempt to communicate with him
(END OF SCENE 1)
By: scriberess,
on 10/6/2007
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SUBMISSION OPPORTUNITY: AN ONGOING DIALOGUE WITH SELF
BY Eleanor Tylbor
PLAYWRIGHT
Oh look! The Blankety-Blank Theatre is asking playwrights for plays. Hmmmm...interesting... Wonder if they're accepting plays from outside the U.S. Probably not...
INNER VOICE
There you go again! Negative. Always negative! Maybe they are!
PLAYWRIGHT
Yeah... Could be. Neh. I mean, this is a well-known and substantial theatre. They have enough playwrights domestically
INNER VOICE
So? What does that have to do with anything?
PLAYWRIGHT
Nothing but somehow I have a feeling they don't
INNER VOICE
You and your dumb feelings! How many opportunities did you let slide by based on your "feelings"?
PLAYWRIGHT
Let me read the guidelines, here... Hmmm and mmm - course I'm right. All the people and judges involved are from the U.S. Why would they waste time reading a play from an un-American? I suppose it would be a similar situation if it were reversed. You know - a Canadian theatre holding a playwriting competition? 'Course I wouldn't know having never won...anything, anywhere, anyway at any time. Oh to see my work actually up on a stage!
INNER VOICE
It doesn't say anything one way or the other. Why don't you query them and find out at least?
PLAYWRIGHT
Yeah... I could... I suppose... Maybe... I guess it would be a good idea. Let's see if they have an e-mail address... Hmm... Says here they have a lot of people reading all the entries. Well - that just about screws me. Wonder if they specialize in drama...or comedy...
INNER VOICE
So query and find out!
PLAYWRIGHT
Know what? It really scares me that lots of people will be reading my play. People who don't even know me or anything about the history of my play! How can they judge the merit of my intellect?
INNER VOICE
Nobody in Canada knows anything about it - or you either, doofus!
PLAYWRIGHT
True... It's just the idea of strangers reading my play and passing judgment on it. 'Oh look', they probably say to each other. 'This is laughable! She calls herself a playwright?' I bet they do that! Have a good laugh at our expense!
INNER VOICE
You're creating barriers again!
PLAYWRIGHT
Perhaps...Let me read some more about this theatre. Just as I thought! I could end up having a reading and not a production!
INNER VOICE
So what's wrong with that?
PLAYWRIGHT
What do I have to gain from a mere reading? I want a production! No - I need a production! I could just as easy get a group together and have a reading of my play. I don't have to spend who knows how much on postage and wonder whether anybody even read it.
INNER VOICE
So do it! Stop complaining for heaven's sake and do something. Your play will never see the light of day by sitting at a computer reading theatre submission guidelines.
PLAYWRIGHT
I'm sick and tired of submitting and daring to hope that maybe - just maybe - the play will be produced! All the while waiting and waiting for news. Checking the mail and the Internet for some response and all the while doubt creeping in and over-taking hope. What else do playwrights have to live for but hope?
INNER VOICE
You're telling me this? Me who shares your anxieties?
PLAYWRIGHT
What happens though if I can't find anyone who wants to read?
INNER VOICE
What happens if you do find people who want to read? If you don't take the first step, you'll never know. Go for it!
PLAYWRIGHT
Oh look here... this looks like just the theatre I've been looking for. I got a good feeling about this one.
By: Kirsty,
on 6/14/2007
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By Kirsty OUP-UK
Yesterday you read an extract from Virginia Smith’s new book Clean: A History of Personal Hygiene and Purity. For today’s post she has kindly agreed to answer a few questions about her work.
OUP: How did you come to write a book on personal hygiene? (more…)
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By: Kirsty,
on 6/13/2007
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I’m happy to confess here and now that I’m a girl who likes her mascara, and it’s a rare day that I appear in public without it. So, imagine my delight when our new book Clean came along. In it the author, Virginia Smith, explores the development of our obsession with personal hygiene, cosmetics, grooming, and purity. In the first of three posts, I’m happy to present the below short extract from the first chapter of the book.
Dirt is only matter out-of-place and is neither ‘good’ nor ‘bad’. Nature does not care what we think, or how we respond, to matter in all its forms. But as a species we do care, very deeply, about our own survival. A dense mass of human history clusters around the belief that dirt is ‘bad’, and that dirt-removal (cleansing) is always ‘good’. The old Anglo-Saxon word ‘clean’ was used in a wide variety of situations: it was often blatantly human-centred or self-serving in a way we might call ‘moral’; but it was also used more objectively as a technical term, to measure or judge material things relative to other things. It was thoroughly comprehensive, and unquestioned.
Preceding all human cultural history however – certainly before any human history of personal hygiene – were billions of years of wholly a-moral species development. The exact date one enters this endless time-line is almost irrelevant; what we are really looking for are the time-spans or periods when things speed up, which in the case of homo sapiens was somewhere between c.100,000-25,0000 BCE, followed by another burst of development after c.5000 BCE. Throughout this long period of animal species development, all of our persistent, over-riding, and highly demanding bio-physical needs were evolving and adapting, and providing the basic infrastructure for the later, very human-centred, psychology, technology and sociology of cleanliness.
It is difficult not to use ancient language when describing the egotistical processes of human physiology – routinely described as 
the ‘fight’ for life – and in particular, our endless battle against poisonous dirt. Much of this battle is carried out below the level of consciousness. Most of the time our old animal bodies are in a constant state of defence and renewal, but we feel or know nothing about it; and the processes are virtually unstoppable. We can no more stop evacuating than we can stop eating or breathing – stale breath, of course, is also an expellation of waste matter. Ancient scientists were strongly focussed on the detailed technology of these supposedly poisonous bodily ‘evacuations’; and modern science also uses similarly careful technical terminology when describing bodily ‘variation’, ‘elimination’, ‘toxicity’ or ‘waste products’. In either language, old or new, inner (and outer) bodily ‘cleansing’ is ultimately connected to the more profound principle of ‘wholesomeness’ within the general system of homeostasis that balances and sustains all bodily functions.
Further extracts from other chapters of Clean can be found on Virginia Smith’s website.
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