Walk The Walk #5

I’m on page 25 of my show and it’s really taking shape. I have decided to have a slightly unusual writing class right on stage. Hey, that’s a pun, Write on Stage. Might be a good title too. The Posse is going to be my class but they are there (in the show) to learn some life lessons. In order to connect with the lessons they are going to be writing-on-the-fly. I had wanted to give audience members small pads of paper and have them jot a few things down throughout the show. Two weeks ago when I last met with my director, John, he had all these issues about having the audience interaction really work. John showed me that there was much less likelihood of the audience participation than I cared to think. He gave me several good reasons why I needed to re-consider this.

This is the value of a director in this writing stage of the game–they’re discerning. They don’t say yes when they are not sure; and, they say basic things over and over like: What is it you want to show the audience that you’ve learned? (Jeez he’s said that to me about 20 times at this point. That’s almost once for every page of script.)

When you’re creating something it’s embarrassing. I should say it’s humbling. But the truth is that you feel lost, blind, awkward–pick your word–and to stay in that place requires a certain amount of stamina and hope. You are exposed and you are also capable of failing. You have a life that requires your attention and other projects come swooping in and derail your efforts. So when you show people the work you need them to be straight with you but in a real basic way. Plus you require kindness. Lots and lots of kindness. When you’re creating something kindness is like rocket fuel. (I worry on my death bed that this single thing will haunt me. That I will shudder at the sobering recognition that I have not been nearly kind enough.) It’s only when a collaborater can be detached and yet still care, that you have any hope of hearing them.

Comments

[cc]

I'm thinking of taking a writing class, a major one, and if the instructors are not kind I'm marching in and asking for my money back. And: you are kind, have been, to me.

[Mick]

Your kindness as a writing facilitator / instructor is IN your candor, your critique, your exploration and suggestions. Critique and criticism exists (at least for Ursula LeGuin's Watcher at the Gate), ultimately because the critic doesn't wish to see us fail.
I don't know if this is where you're going, but it's what comes to mind.
Cheers, Mick

[Robb Mitchell]

Recently, a longtime writer a member of our Workshop here in Minnesota said to me he had to quit going to script group. I asked why and he said, "I can't stand being around writers anymore."

And here I will start to paraphrase but basically he said, they are self-dulgent, self-absorbed, egotistical combined with low self esteem out of a fear of failure. And while it might seem contradictory to be egotistical and have low self-esteem, it really isn't when you think about it.

Releasing all his pent up feelings after plodding through five pages at a time, weekly or bi-weekly of all the egotists who feel they have something important to say about themselves and their perceptions of the world year after year for 10 years, he was throwing in the towell.

"i can't stand them, they give me the creeps, maybe because I have so many of those same characteristics," he lamented. "I'd much rahter hear the stories of auto mechanics, barbers, bartenders, or teachers every week -- their five pages from their lives -- than listen to self-absorbed writers whose major concern is whether to use a period or a comma."

I guess I related to his comments somewhat. And when you mentioned you were bringing a writing group on the stage during your show, I kind of cringed and thought, Ouch, be careful with the medicine you pass out.

But then, I also thought, any story can be interesting if it is told well. And I agree with Mick, for you Nancy, the magic is in your candor and the joy of the jounrey in your exploration.