Forward

I had my reading of The Brothers Caramillo at the Great Plains Theatre Conference yesterday, which went well. I gained a lot of insight into the "sound" of the play, noticing moments when characters voices changed, when moments of the play stalled, where things felt somewhat artificial and awkward. The script needs to be tightened. It needs to be sliced with a fine scalpel. It doesn't need major rewrites, just a nip here and a tuck there. The same can be said for All Grace. I'm heading towards the production on June 8th with an all-female cast, which, while created simply out of necessity, does allow me to look at the characters separate from my original perceptions of them. It's actually a very interesting experience, and I think the play might benefit from an all-female cast in future productions. In fact, I might pitch it that way as well, give some strong women actresses some juicy parts. I have to beef up the role of Yulla, however... She's one of the only ones that doesn't have as much meat.

At the theatre conference, the audience is invited to respond on blue sheets of paper. Here's one of my favorite comments:

"You mentioned this was originally a novel about Russians, (was it your novel?); why did it change to Latinos? Why not keep it in Russia? Also, my husband hates it when he can't understand lines spoken in other languages in plays, movies, books, etc..."

If you are reading this, fair responder, no, it was not my novel about Russians. It was Sr. Fyodor Dostoevsky's novel about Russians. I changed it to Latinos because I don't know anything about Russians.

Speaking of Latinos... The other day in the lunch line, I was behind an older gentleman. As we neared the food, we saw that it was a taco bar and enchiladas. As he was being served, he told the woman, "You got the wrong country." He moved to the tacos, "I had food better than this in India." Then, as he spooned some pico de gallo onto his plate, "What the hell is this stuff?"

I blurted, "It's pico de gallo."

"And what the hell is that? You don't even speak the language, how the hell would you know?"

"How would you know I don't speak the language?!"

If he hadn't walked away, I would've mopped the floor with him. I wanted to go to his play reading today to make a scene, but I decided against it...