EXTRA CRITICUM

Flour, water, yeast. Never Lose Sight of the Essential Ingredients.

We're in the home stretch of a Kickstarter campaign to raise 2/3 of the production budget for my play, What We Get to Keep. And, frankly, it freaks me out. I've never had this sort of a public, social media driven metaphorical gun to my producer head before. I ran a non-profit for a decade. I raised hundreds of thousands from investors for two indie films. There were always rules around who we could ask, how we could ask, how much we could raise.

But you know what was never the case til now?

It was never all happening out in public online with every dollar raised tracked, announced, applauded (or not) online for all to see day and night until one day me, my project and all my collaborators would be shoved into one of two columns:

SUCCESS                     OR              `    FAILURE

I  keep trying to remind myself of one of the most important lessons learned during the pandemic shutdown.

Juggling has its place. But for artists the risks are great.

The other day I had to have a conversation I've had many times before. And yet, as I answered the phone I dreaded the call because in this instance it was coming from an old friend, an actor I've worked with many times, someone I love and enjoy and have nothing but good will toward. Still, he was calling to tell me that another project, one he sees as somehow bigger or more career-enhancing would potentially disrupt his participation in a collaboration with me that was already underway. 

They Tell Us to Say Yes to Everything. But Should We?

He was asking for compromise, for me to adjust our production schedule to allow him to say yes to both rather than no to the other project.

We've all been there. You're working on what you're working on when out of the blue some shiny new opportunity presents itself, seductively calling to you to drop what you've been doing and turn your attention to this other thing, this newer thing, this shinier thing which you start to suspect may just be the ticket you've been waiting for: that one transformative project. The catalyst for taking your career to a whole other level.

The only problem with this thinking is that careers don't work that way. 

The Myth of that One Golden Opportunity... it's a myth.

What Do You Most Need From Your Next Script Reader?

You Need Them to Forget They're Reading.

You want the reader of your next new thing to almost forget they're reading a script and embark on an emotional journey with your characters as defined by your structure. Of course it's true. Reading a script in silence will never carry us to the emotional highs and lows of lives in conflict portrayed by actors while we sit cloaked in darkness.

Nevertheless, experience tells us that professional gatekeepers are only going to advocate to their colleagues on behalf of work that moves them.

No one stirs up the courage to knock on the studio head's door for a moment propelled by an intellectual notion. No. We find it in ourselves to suggest to colleagues "this script must be produced"solely as a result of our having been moved.

The Next Best Thing to Being There

For anyone who's ever submitted an original screenplay or stage play to a writing competition or a producing entity you know that the few days just before you hit SEND and the following weeks or months of waiting can be kind of excruciating. There will always be little things you worry about getting just right and elements of your storytelling that you hope will appreciated by the reader(s).

A Thousand Cuts Death by Social Media (06-08-23)

 
What changes when we ignore the impulse to post?

To access all the previously published posts in this weekly series, click the Social Media category in the right hand column. NB: Posts that appear to be fine

 

Last week I shared one striking observation from the first 7 days of 2018 when as an experiment I decided to completely abstain from Facebook. That when the impulse to post to social media is not immediately attended to, the thoughts we just let lie have a way of expanding, collecting connected ideas and developing into stuff of far greater significance and impact.

But as I asked last week: Why should we care?

There are at least two angles from which you might consider the question of posting to social media vs. keeping your thoughts to yourself at the initial moment you first notice them.

1. The Impact on the Thoughts Themselves.
2. The Impact on Your Thinking in General.

A Thousand Cuts Death by Social Media (06-01-23)

Beginning June 1, 2023 (and continuing with a new entry posted here each Thursday) I will be publishing a long and winding essay building an argument (brick by tiny brick) for a global decoupling from social media. It is my conviction that our very survival depends on it. And  this series is my earnest attempt to convince you as well. I want to be absolutely transparent. I have no skin in this game, no business relationships of any kind with any of the platforms. Although this first set of entries begins with Facebook, this is not an argument against Facebook specifically but against every single platform that appeals to our human need for connection and exploits that need without concern for the detritus and misery it leaves in its wake. If you find these arguments persuasive I hope you'll keep coming back for more, feeling free to post your thoughts in the comments and share the posts with your friends. It is not lost on me: the irony of asking for help sharing via the platforms a clarion call for all of humanity to reject these very platforms. But tell me, how else is guy with an idea and no marketing budget to get the word out? In the end, long after you and I have said our last goodbye, I'm sure of this: word of mouth will always be the most powerful way for ideas to spread: when one person looks another in the eye and says: "Trust me." Thanks. - RT

A Thousand Cuts Death by Social Media:
Intro to the Experiment

 

Jennifer Garner Social Media Controversy Should Be Heard as an Alarm. A Mass DeCoupling is Long Overdue

My InBox lit up with this eye-catching headline from Medium yesterday::

Jennifer Garner Can Fuck Right Off

Normalize Calling Out Child Abuse Even When Hot People Do It

The piece goes on to attack Jennifer Garner for the recent revelation that she does not allow any of her three children to be on social media. The author labels Garner's embargo as "child abuse" which I think is a bit over-the-top. I mean, even if you disagree with the parenting choice, it feels like calling it "child abuse" is a stretch.

By this logic, would we then call Mormon parents who forbid their children from drinking alcohol and caffeine child abusers by virtue of the fact that they've cut their kids out of a life experience commonly shared by everyone else they'll meet when they go to college? Is the parent who decides that their kid will not be joining all the other kids on a Spring Break trip to Florida because she doesn't want her children to set foot in that state also a child abuser?

Name America's No. 1 Underwriter of the Arts

At last night's session of this year's Self-Production Boot Camp (for members of the Dramatists Guild of America), I posed a loaded question I never tire of asking because the responses I get always offer new insights into the current state of our culture.

We were in the middle of a session on fundraising when I interrupted the flow to pose a question that I don't think enough of us have ever even considered. 

Who is the greatest subsidizer of the Arts in the United States?

The Zoom room echoed with the sounds of stunned (stumped) silence. So, put another way:

From which sector does the mother lode of Arts underwriting come from?

One of the things that's most thrilling about teaching Self-Production Boot Camp is that I get to swim in the current of where the newest work is taking shape these days. The motivated, focused and endlessly inventive creative artists who are drawn to even consider the possibility that they could (or maybe even should?) produce their next new work give me hope for a better future. 

And so when Wednesday comes around I always look forward to those 90 minutes when I get to absorb as much of their optimism and ambition as I wish.

Dear Creative Soul: Look Beyond Your Own Next Thing

Dear Artists:

When was the last time you showed up to take your place in the audience?

In the Spring of 2020, we were in crisis. And by "we," I could mean everyone cause everyone was. But in this context the "we" I'm referring to specifically are playwrights and solo performers. As the pandemic descended on us all, I created Hear Me Out Monologues with my eye squarely on two goals:

1. To provide a means by which the people who write plays might not lose touch with their audience during pandemic lockdown.
2. To provide theater lovers and theater makers with an online community where we could be reminded of our core values.

And today, we're continuing the mission online because we found unexpected riches to be mined from this unique thing we call the Zoom Black Box Theater. For example, connections across time zones from as far as New Zealand to Alaska to London to Tel Aviv and back again have been made between writers, performers and audiences. And we've all gained a more nuanced appreciation of what it means to see and hear stories unfold in the presence of a live audience, an audience unmuted that we can see and hear. 

I've personally grown as an artist, at least in part, as I've learned to value my own role as an audience member. The most powerful work I've produced as a writer or performer can be directly linked to lessons I've learned watching, listening and responding to the work of others in our Hear Me Out Black Box. 

And I know this is true for so many of you.

Still, it saddens me how for some out there, old habits die hard.

There are some who only show up on nights that they themselves have work of their own to present.

The artist who shows up only to hear his own voice performed is like the human being in conversation who is silent only while waiting for his next opportunity to speak. 

To be in dialogue with a community, an artist needs to want to listen -- to the audience, to other artists, to the world at large.

When was the last time you showed up thrilled to be a member of an audience?

If you can't recall when, it might be time to make a change.

Promise me you'll hit PAUSE before ending another relationship.

Tell the truth. 

Within the past 6-9 months how many times has a close friend or family member irritated you to the point that you thought it might just be time to be done with them?

If I'm honest, I'd say I've had that feeling a handful of times over the past year. 

And chances are if I sat quietly and closed my eyes to really make an inventory, the actual number might be quite a bit higher.

I was walking with an old friend today and we got to talking -- as one does, or should, in the presence of a loved one -- and he reported a recent series of interactions with a family member that had pissed him off so much he wondered when, if ever, he'd pick up the phone again.

At the end of the 30 min. walk we both agreed that writing anyone off for their callous behavior, self-absorption, insensitivity, etc. etc. at this unique moment might not be wise.

Bottom line?

CoVid has fucked with all of us, specifically with our ability to self-modulate.

Now would be a time for us all to hit PAUSE before ending any relationships. Because, honestly, I don't know about you but lately I find myself feeling like certain social interactions are my first bike ride without training wheels. I feel a bit wobbly, unsure of my balance and bracing for an imminent fall.

Let's all take a deep breath, close our eyes and force ourselves to give each other just a little more wiggle room... for a little bit longer.

When I make my mental inventory of the folks who did something to seriously piss me off I'm so grateful NOT to have followed my impulse to sever ties. Cause nine times out of ten, there's something I really love or value deeply there. And life is better with than without. 

Peace & Love, as my pal Merle Perkins likes to say. Peace & Love. :)

And here's some music to match this sentiment, courtesy of harpist-singer-songwriter Patrice Haan.

01 We Must Be Arrows (feat. David Morris & Arrow Choir)

 

Don't ever let me hear you say: "Oh I leave those details to the experts."

Too many artists are passive about stuff that matters to their bottom line.

I recently learned of a friend's book launch and I wanted to go to show my support and buy a book. (By the way, when you do go to a book signing, not buying a book is kind of tacky. IMHO. Just sayin')

I hopped on over to the website of the sponsoring org and found...

oh wait, it must be here somewhere...

Wait a sec. 

Not one word about my friend's book launch, which is in less than 3 weeks. 

Then I clicked on the calendar page and it was empty even though I know for a fact the organization has events all month long every single month of the year.

Taylor Swift Ticketmaster Controversy Points to a Dangerous Thing No One is Talking About: The Slow Narrowing of Our Culture

 

 

The Six Most Likely Reasons Your Excellent Piece of Writing Did Not Take Home a Prize

Anyone who's ever been anywhere near a writing competition of any kind -- be it as a contestant, an audience member or a judge -- knows the sad fact that it's almost inevitable that really terrific work will somehow fail to capture the adoring attention of enough judges in just the right way and will be overlooked. 

I was curious  to take a closer look at this year's entries to the Hear Me Out Monologue Competition, specifically to examine the pieces that were really great pieces of writing that somehow failed to accumulate the high scores needed to advance to the finalist round. Specifically I wondered if I might be able to identify some patterns, common flaws which were working against some really terrific writing getting its proper due.

What I found may surprise you. It certainly did me. 

For any writer preparing work to submit to a seriously competitive opportunity of any kind, these 6 flaws could make the difference between taking home the gold and barely seeing the light of day. 

I suggest you copy this list and hang it somewhere in your workspace as a reminder so that every time you’re prepping a submission, you take some time to try and eliminate these obstacles.

I like to think of these as six guests you really don't want crashing your party cause they will work against your ambition for your submission by distracting the judges from the power and brilliance of what you've created. Show them the door and your chances of success will greatly improve.

We’ll count down from 6 to 1, saving the most important one for last.

#6: Typos and punctuation problems

It may not seem like in the grand scheme of things your brilliant powerfully moving work should be penalized for the odd misplaced comma or incorrect use or their, there or they’re. But here’s the thing. I know our judges are trying to look directly into the heart of each monologue, to understand its central character, to feel its pulse and not intentionally penalize you for typos. But we’re human. And if there are enough misspellings, incorrect or confusing uses of punctuation or incomprehensible sentences, the effect is this. The reader of the piece has to work harder to feel it as they read from start to finish. They may have to stop, go back a couple lines to figure out your intention. And when that happens, guess what? Their emotional investment in your piece suffers. 

#5: Layout on the page

Let’s imagine there’s a major explosion in the middle of your monologue. How you decide to place that interruption on the page is going to make a difference in how your reader spots it as the major interruption it is or whether they potentially miss it entirely.

Also, it may strike you as absolutely trivial but I was surprised to discover that submissions with hard-to-read fonts or inconsistent line spacing or line breaks tended to get lower scores. Now I know this is unconscious on the part of the judges because I am so specific about how the pieces are to be judged. Still human beings are not computers (thank god) and anything that makes it a little harder or more complicated for me as the reader to imagine and hear and see the monologue from start to finish is competing with your chance to grab a judge where they live -- to make an emotional impression. 

We may sound rather intellectual sitting in the restaurant discussing the show we all just saw together but make no mistake as it is unfolding in the theatre and we are sitting in the dark, it is an emotional experience. We're not thinking our way through your story, we're feeling our way through it. And every little interruption to provide a footnote or reveal the need for one is an interruption in my emotional journey with your characters through the story you're telling. 

#4: The Last Line

There were several gorgeous monologues this year that felt unfinished or incomplete because although the writer had a beautifully wrought idea that really kept us engaged, it felt as though they had not figured out how the ending should feel for the audience.

Any piece of theatre (or literature for that matter) can end in a number of ways. Think about your favorite pop songs. Some end with a bang. Some peter out. Some end with a hiccup. These choices make a world of difference in how an audience is going to feel about the overall piece and your choice should be carefully aimed at the emotional content of what preceded it. It’s human nature that no matter how you end your piece, we are going to use that end as a final lens through which to revisit the piece in its entirety. Choose the wrong type of end and you risk potentially getting in the way of your audience appreciating the depth and gravitas of the whole piece. Or on the other hand, sometimes an  ending too formal and sharp can risk throwing a lighthearted charm piece into unwanted (and unhelpful) comparison to other pieces with more natural heft. The last line also does something else in monologue that’s extremely important. And that is it signals to the audience something about the main character’s likely future beyond where we leave them. Last lines can hint at hope for some much needed change. Or they can confirm our worst fears about this person and the world that lies ahead of them. 

 

The problem is clear: Social Media is Antisocial. It is not prosocial.

First I left Facebook. Then you convinced me that my bottom line depended on my return. Now I'm leaving Twitter.

Here's the inconvenient truth. Social media is fundamentally antisocial. And by that I mean the very architecture of social media does not support prosocial behavior. And when society is under threat of collapse, we all need (now more than ever) to find ways to access those parts of ourselves inclined toward acting in support of the needs of others first. 

My mother, Nechama Tec, embarked on the first comprehensive study of the Polish Catholics who risked their lives to save Jews during the Holocaust. In her first book on the subject, When Light Pierced the Darkness, she uncovered some surprising traits shared by most of the hundreds of Righteous Christians she interviewed. Turns out the usual categories by which sociologists would first embark on a comparative analysis of large groups such as religiosity, social strata, gender, etc. seem to have been largely inconsequential. Instead, she found some less obvious deeper qualitative traits that were shared by a majority of these individuals. And one of them was a pre-war established habit of prosocial behavior. 

Stop to offer help to someone who appears to be lost, dig into your pockets for some spare change to offer to a homeless person on the street, rearrange your schedule to help a friend who's being discharged from the hospital...

The people who habitually (easily, casually, even unconsciously) consider the needs of others important and interesting just might save us all when the shit hits the fan.

Social media encourages us to look inward, not outward. And it does this for one simple reason. 

It's public.

"Where do I fit?" And Other Questions Writers Ask in the Wake of What We Commonly Think of as Rejection

This Year's Hear Me Out Delays

On August 20th of this year I happened to be in Milwaukee for my nephew's wedding. It had been a rough summer on several fronts with the pandemic hitting several members of our National Circle of Judges hard with family emergencies, hospital visits and personal crises such that the Hear Me Out Monologue Festival and Awards Ceremony which usually happens on Labor Day was going to be pushed back to November 25th, the day after Thanksgiving.

August 20th had been widely advertised as the date by which this year's competition finalists would be announced. (That date has now been revised to tomorrow, October 25th.) And for that reason almost from the moment I checked in to my room at the Hilton Garden Inn Milwaukee I was attempting to access the hotel's WiFi to send out an email the 400+ writers who had submitted to this year's competition. A simple heads-up to let them know that the announcement would be delayed this year. 

But weddings and travel and hotel WiFi being the unpredictable things they are, our heads-up announcement did not go out until the following day, August 21st. (Yes, folks,. you may occasionally imagine that I am surrounded by a dedicated staff of highly paid professionals but this competition is pretty much run by two people with the help of an army of volunteers.)

Writers Seeing Rejection Everywhere No Matter What

In the roughly 16 hours before our e-blast was sent, I received more than one message complaining bitterly about Hear Me Out having rejected work without even so much as a thank you. Here's one example of something someone (a former student no less) emailed me at 7pm on August 20th:

It's Official. We Must Defeat the Algorithms. (Our Humanity Just May Depend on It)

I'm in the middle (well, probably only 20% of the way in if I'm honest) of a steep new learning curve around social media algorithms, Search Engine Optimization and the very powerful and quixotic (not-to-be-overlooked) chill of audience disinterest.

And yesterday I came upon this paragraph in a pretty interesting (albeit somewhat depressing) post I'll link to here. 

 

 

Naturally, this got me thinking.