EXTRA CRITICUM

The Power of Monologue at this Unique Moment in History

When I decided to launch a nationwide monologue initiative I hoped that writers would be inspired by the call to take the lemons of pandemic shutdown and make some serious lemonade. I hoped. Maybe I'd say I even suspected that the 'Me & My Masks' prompt we used in our call for submissions to the 'Hear Me Out' New American Monologue Competition would inspire writers to write and send us their pieces.

Well... more than 350 submissions (from 43 U.S. States, Canada, South America, Europe, Asia and New Zealand) later, the verdict is in. Writers everywhere are ready willing and able to take hold of this unique historical moment and forge a viable path forward for making exciting theatre happen again, one talking head at a time.

And naturally, the infrastructure of this competition has been challenged by the overwhelming flood of entries. [Recently, I shared about the frustrations of having to say "no" to last-minute requests for "a few more minutes" past entry deadline.] Although I'd spent months inviting a hand-picked collection of seasoned actors, directors and writers from both stage and screen to serve on our National Circle of Judges, the circle was not going to be big enough to evaluate so many entries.

So I did what I've done since the beginning of this initiative. I reached out to some trusted leaders in the field, people like Gary Garrison, Kate Snodgrass, Faye Sholiton, Vicky Pittman, John Wooten, Paul Outlaw, Jeremy Dobrish, and Teresa Coleman Wash. And boy have they delivered!

Submission Deadlines When Life is Lived Online

Yesterday we closed the submissions window on the first annual 'Hear Me Out' New American Monologue Competition. And while I felt thrilled and humbled by the number of entries we received from writers in 43 U.S. States, Canada, Europe, South America and as far away as New Zealand, I have to admit I found it heartbreaking having to refuse what amounted to an avalanche of last-minute requests for special exceptions to our strict Noon deadline. 

First, I feel it important to explain our rationale for refusing to accept post-deadline submissions. I'm here to testify to the fact that for every one person who may send a request for special treatment after having run up against the submission gates swinging shut, there are always at least a dozen reticent folks who feel the same frustration and disappointment yet accept the result as simply an unfortunate fact of life, something to use as a lesson and hopefully avoid in the future. For those of us accustomed to taking "no" for an answer swiftly and and as quietly as possible, the idea that only those few who are quick to complain about spotty internet, incomplete social media posts, or competing life challenges would be let in feels cruel and unfair.

The only way to make a deadline meaningful is to stick to it, no matter how painful it may be.

And this brings me to my main point.