Hello all!
I want to point you all to my blog's new location at my website!
Check out http://clleyva.wordpress.com for new entries!
Best to you all,
Chris
1/18/2009
10/21/2008
Methods
Since I'm back, I thought I would title my new blog entries with single words just like my favorite guilty pleasure, Smallville. We'll see just how long that lasts...
Since coming back to The Brothers Caramillo, I feel like I've tried everything to ignite things and get to the heart of the rewrite. As stated in my last post, I found a theme song; I've spent hours drawing diagrams on my dry erase board, using different colors for each of the three brothers; and I've written notes upon notes in my moleskine, trying to understand the characters and the plot and the philosophical and theological implications that come from each decision I make...
I figure there's no one technique, no one method. I'm trying a method casserole. Or a method Jell-O mold with fruit and pecans like my mom used to make... Point is, I'm trying everything.
Recently, I looked to a method that my friend and fellow playwright Anton Jones uses. He creates a separate document for each scene of his play and then combines them when he has a completed "draft." (Note: This was a method he used when we were at the University of Iowa, so I don't know if he still uses it to this day. Anton, do you still use this method?)
While I didn't create complete, separate documents for the play, I used Final Draft to chop up the play into easily digestible scenes. But, Chris, you may ask, how is this different from what Final Draft does anyway? Good question. What I did was combine Anton's scene separation with creating French Scenes from my process as a director. French Scenes are created when different characters enter or exit a scene. So, basically, I chopped up the play further than simply scenes, into entrances and exits. This created a large and very unwieldy document, however, when you're only concerned with rewriting a particular chunk or morsel of dramatic action, it's easy to give yourself a sense of accomplishment. Today, in fact, I collapsed four French Scenes into "Act 1, Scene 2," or as I label it in my scripts now: "1.2".
What other methods do you use to set up structure or make things more manageable? How do you troubleshoot? Am I going overboard here? Let me know!
Since coming back to The Brothers Caramillo, I feel like I've tried everything to ignite things and get to the heart of the rewrite. As stated in my last post, I found a theme song; I've spent hours drawing diagrams on my dry erase board, using different colors for each of the three brothers; and I've written notes upon notes in my moleskine, trying to understand the characters and the plot and the philosophical and theological implications that come from each decision I make...
I figure there's no one technique, no one method. I'm trying a method casserole. Or a method Jell-O mold with fruit and pecans like my mom used to make... Point is, I'm trying everything.
Recently, I looked to a method that my friend and fellow playwright Anton Jones uses. He creates a separate document for each scene of his play and then combines them when he has a completed "draft." (Note: This was a method he used when we were at the University of Iowa, so I don't know if he still uses it to this day. Anton, do you still use this method?)
While I didn't create complete, separate documents for the play, I used Final Draft to chop up the play into easily digestible scenes. But, Chris, you may ask, how is this different from what Final Draft does anyway? Good question. What I did was combine Anton's scene separation with creating French Scenes from my process as a director. French Scenes are created when different characters enter or exit a scene. So, basically, I chopped up the play further than simply scenes, into entrances and exits. This created a large and very unwieldy document, however, when you're only concerned with rewriting a particular chunk or morsel of dramatic action, it's easy to give yourself a sense of accomplishment. Today, in fact, I collapsed four French Scenes into "Act 1, Scene 2," or as I label it in my scripts now: "1.2".
What other methods do you use to set up structure or make things more manageable? How do you troubleshoot? Am I going overboard here? Let me know!
10/14/2008
Return
After a long absence for personal trips and such, I've returned to blog-land to document further evolutions of my plays, at this time, The Brothers Caramillo. Yes, yes, I'm still working on this Brothers Karamazov adaptation that began two years ago during the first National Playwriting Month (the third annual NaPlWriMo begins on November 1st). Back then, the play was called Goody, Goody and was more of an adaptation of Brecht's Good Person of Setzuan, but evolved as I was reading Dostoyevsky's story about three brothers, their father, and the philosophical conversations that go directly to the heart of their struggles.
Lately, my work on Brothers C has been ripping the play apart, literally, hacking and cutting and slicing with my precision scalpel, or spacepen. I've been looking for things that ring false, that are missing that sense of character or truth and moments that were simply creating as ways for me, the writer, to push the characters from point a to point b. I use the word "push" quite deliberately. I feel that a play works best when you feel the breath of the characters propelling them forward, or even the fickle finger of fate factoring in there somewhere. However, I feel that feeling the fingers of a "literary" puppetmaster can kill drama. There's a difference. One has its fingers on the pulses and fates of the characters, while the other merely has its fingers on the keys of a keyboard. One has true power, while the other apes it.
I've been excising my false fingerprints from the play and have been allowing the characters to live. One of the main epiphanies that told me that a new approach to the play would be required was allowing the play's description to finally sink in. I called the play a "fast & loose adaptation," but in reading the play, I realized that the play was neither fast nor loose. It was stilted and slow and methodical. Dostoyevsky's original moved quicker than my play, and that's saying something!
So, in trying to find the quickness, the vibrancy, the looseness, and the pulse of the play, I searched out a theme song for my play. Why? Well, I needed a visceral experience that would allow me into the true world of the play, and what is more visceral that music? After searching for the theme song in soundtracks varying from The Motorcycle Diaries, Frida, Battlestar Galactica, I found the theme song by accident when I felt the need to watch Tarantino's Kill Bill Vol. 2. In the special features there was a live performance by Chingon, director Robert Rodriquez' band, rocking out a traditional mariachi song Malaguena Salerosa. This song, with its undercurrents of Mexican folk, sprinklings of rock, a near-Brian May peal of the electric guitar, and its dynamic changes made this the theme song that defined the world of The Brothers Caramillo.
I've spent plenty of time taking bits of fat and skin and muscle from the play, breaking its bones, and looking, not for a spine, but for the beating heart, and now that there's a song that can act as a direct link between my heart and the play's, I feel much more prepared to continue.
Lately, my work on Brothers C has been ripping the play apart, literally, hacking and cutting and slicing with my precision scalpel, or spacepen. I've been looking for things that ring false, that are missing that sense of character or truth and moments that were simply creating as ways for me, the writer, to push the characters from point a to point b. I use the word "push" quite deliberately. I feel that a play works best when you feel the breath of the characters propelling them forward, or even the fickle finger of fate factoring in there somewhere. However, I feel that feeling the fingers of a "literary" puppetmaster can kill drama. There's a difference. One has its fingers on the pulses and fates of the characters, while the other merely has its fingers on the keys of a keyboard. One has true power, while the other apes it.
I've been excising my false fingerprints from the play and have been allowing the characters to live. One of the main epiphanies that told me that a new approach to the play would be required was allowing the play's description to finally sink in. I called the play a "fast & loose adaptation," but in reading the play, I realized that the play was neither fast nor loose. It was stilted and slow and methodical. Dostoyevsky's original moved quicker than my play, and that's saying something!
So, in trying to find the quickness, the vibrancy, the looseness, and the pulse of the play, I searched out a theme song for my play. Why? Well, I needed a visceral experience that would allow me into the true world of the play, and what is more visceral that music? After searching for the theme song in soundtracks varying from The Motorcycle Diaries, Frida, Battlestar Galactica, I found the theme song by accident when I felt the need to watch Tarantino's Kill Bill Vol. 2. In the special features there was a live performance by Chingon, director Robert Rodriquez' band, rocking out a traditional mariachi song Malaguena Salerosa. This song, with its undercurrents of Mexican folk, sprinklings of rock, a near-Brian May peal of the electric guitar, and its dynamic changes made this the theme song that defined the world of The Brothers Caramillo.
I've spent plenty of time taking bits of fat and skin and muscle from the play, breaking its bones, and looking, not for a spine, but for the beating heart, and now that there's a song that can act as a direct link between my heart and the play's, I feel much more prepared to continue.
6/25/2008
Catalyst
Right now, I'm importing the video from the recent production of All Grace onto the computer in preparation for editing and creating a DVD. I look over at the screen every so often and catch a glimpse of a moment and remember what it was like to see this play come to life in its new form. My mind fills with laughing at rehearsals and making tiny flicks with my pen, scratching out words and crossing out lines as the words hit my ears. "Save those changes for later," I thought. By the end of the four weeks of rehearsal, I had lines and notes on every page, symbols and markings to remind me how to move monologues, where there was a moment missing, where the play could take a breath, where I wasn't letting the characters just "be," where my words were getting in the way of the characters' words.
The Saturday before last, while my wife, Rachael, was in Scotland for a music/dance conference, I spent a good three hours at my office (Cup O Joe), putting those changes into the script, and finding new discoveries as I relived the play page by page. It was one of the best rewriting sessions I've had in a long time, mostly because it wasn't extreme. I had the form of the play; this was merely shaping and focusing. I surprised myself a few days later when I actually wrote letters and sent samples of the play to five different theatres. I felt so confident in the changes, in the experience the actors and audience had, that I just pushed myself to get the play out there. It wasn't until a couple of days later that I began to second guess myself. "Are the first fifteen pages of the play strong enough to make an impression?" "If I were them, would I ask to read the rest of the play?"
I sent mental messages to the literary departments: "It gets better! The good stuff is later in the play! Give it a chance! It's good! I swear! Just ask to read the rest of it and you'll see!"
* * *
While All Grace continues to import, I've been passing the time away doing rewrites on the book for the musical The Conquest of Don Pedro. I'd been putting off rewrites because I wasn't in the right mindset or headspace to work on the play... Haven't been in the right headspace to do much of anything lately, but that's beside the point...
Yesterday, I was doing some thinking about projects that I had put on the back burner while I've been attempting to get my life in line (job, house, yard, etc.). One of those prrojects was, obviously, Don Pedro. Emotionally, I didn't want to jump into rewrites, but mentally I knew that I had to get it done otherwise the project would go on for another five years. Yes, I've been working on this musical for five years... At least... When I started working on the musical, I had just written my "first" play Dialogues with Lars. Now, after perhaps 7 years and 10 plays later, I'm still working on it. Part of what's been difficult has been the change in my voice as a writer. When I first started, I had only just begun to dig into defining my voice and just in the past two years of being out of graduate school, my writing has shifted and changed. What this has done is keep us focused on rewriting and rewriting the first act. Thankfully, we've moved on to the second act, though the first act could use some polishing... God, will it ever be done?
* * *
The Saturday before last, while my wife, Rachael, was in Scotland for a music/dance conference, I spent a good three hours at my office (Cup O Joe), putting those changes into the script, and finding new discoveries as I relived the play page by page. It was one of the best rewriting sessions I've had in a long time, mostly because it wasn't extreme. I had the form of the play; this was merely shaping and focusing. I surprised myself a few days later when I actually wrote letters and sent samples of the play to five different theatres. I felt so confident in the changes, in the experience the actors and audience had, that I just pushed myself to get the play out there. It wasn't until a couple of days later that I began to second guess myself. "Are the first fifteen pages of the play strong enough to make an impression?" "If I were them, would I ask to read the rest of the play?"
I sent mental messages to the literary departments: "It gets better! The good stuff is later in the play! Give it a chance! It's good! I swear! Just ask to read the rest of it and you'll see!"
* * *
While All Grace continues to import, I've been passing the time away doing rewrites on the book for the musical The Conquest of Don Pedro. I'd been putting off rewrites because I wasn't in the right mindset or headspace to work on the play... Haven't been in the right headspace to do much of anything lately, but that's beside the point...
Yesterday, I was doing some thinking about projects that I had put on the back burner while I've been attempting to get my life in line (job, house, yard, etc.). One of those prrojects was, obviously, Don Pedro. Emotionally, I didn't want to jump into rewrites, but mentally I knew that I had to get it done otherwise the project would go on for another five years. Yes, I've been working on this musical for five years... At least... When I started working on the musical, I had just written my "first" play Dialogues with Lars. Now, after perhaps 7 years and 10 plays later, I'm still working on it. Part of what's been difficult has been the change in my voice as a writer. When I first started, I had only just begun to dig into defining my voice and just in the past two years of being out of graduate school, my writing has shifted and changed. What this has done is keep us focused on rewriting and rewriting the first act. Thankfully, we've moved on to the second act, though the first act could use some polishing... God, will it ever be done?
* * *
6/10/2008
All Grace Thoughts
A couple weekends ago, I witnessed the Columbus, Ohio premiere of All Grace at Broad Street United Methodist Church. Over six weeks, I rewrote the play, cast the play, and directed the production. I put out notices and calls for actors to several different schools and theatres in the area, and ended up hearing mostly from female actors. I tried to get in touch with the two male actors that contacted me, but never could. So, I ended up with seven women for four female roles and no men for four male roles... What to do? Do an all-female production.
It took me a few days to come to grips with the possibility of Jacques Lipchitz and Father Couturier being played by young women, but the necessity of the production and the fire to see the new revisions onstage made the decision for me. And now that I've seen the play with an all-female cast, it's hard for me to imagine it any other way.
It took me a few days to come to grips with the possibility of Jacques Lipchitz and Father Couturier being played by young women, but the necessity of the production and the fire to see the new revisions onstage made the decision for me. And now that I've seen the play with an all-female cast, it's hard for me to imagine it any other way.
5/28/2008
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...
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...
5/23/2008
Traveling
I'm in the Columbus Airport, waiting to get on my flight to Omaha, NE for the Great Plains Theatre Conference. My play The Brothers Caramillo; Eulogy for a Piece of Sh*t will have a reading on Tuesday morning. I'm nervous. Anxious. This will mark the first time I'll've heard the play and there'll be an audience there. I haven't even read the play since I submitted it. It'll be a little like having lunch with an old friend, catching up, picking through our memories, finding the familiarities, learning secrets that hadn't been told before.
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