EXTRA CRITICUM

What makes studying with Roland Tec special?

On the Roland Tec Teaching site, there's a button that invites anyone interested in possibly studying with me to schedule a free 20-min. Zoom one-on-one. Whenever I find myself talking with someone who's exploring, I find myself listening to what's not being said. Reading between the lines I try to use those precious 20 minutes to tease out for people what at their core they hope to accomplish through their art so that I might help them decide whether this is the place for them.

A couple days ago one such prospective student -- a writer I've known off and on for years, someone whose work I've admired from afar -- asked the simplest most direct question. So direct that somehow it had never quite been asked in the same way. And I thought. Wow. This really matters. I should communicate my answer to readers of this blog. 

The question is basically the headline of this post.

What makes studying with me unique?

If any current members of the Roland Tec Online Writers Workshop or the RT Private Studio happen to be reading this, feel free to offer your opinion on my answer. Did I get it right? Maybe I missed something. I'm happy to stand corrected... especially in matters pertaining to seeing myself clearly.

Whenever my work is about to be read, I work overtime. Here's how and why.

You're having a new play read, or part of a new play. It's a script. What is a script but a tool used by artists who make theatre or film. The artists we should always consider first, middle and last as we go about our planning are of course the actors.

Because actors are reading your script aloud rather than performing the play with full production value, the reading by definition cuts many of your creative collaborators out of the equation. Set designer? Sorry. Lighting? Nope. Composer. Hell, no. Director? Not really, if we're honest. The direction of readings of new work is actually more like a hybrid of casting and stage management.

Essentially, 90% of readings -- regardless of whether they're private, in a writers workshop or public -- are carried entirely by the actors who read your dialogue aloud.

3 weeks til deadline! How to best use this time to submit a winning monologue to Hear Me Out 2021?

June is ending. And you haven't figured out what to submit to this year's Hear Me Out Monologue Competition?

Don't panic. Sure, you only have about three weeks til the July 22 deadline, but if you break it down, you have more than enough time to conceive of, write and submit a winning response to this year's festival theme: Borders.

Here's my two cents on how I'd go about this if I were hoping to submit.

1. Write something new specifically tailored to the guidelines of the competition. 

As you consider the calendar, it may be tempting to go digging into your files in search of an existing monologue from some older work that might fit the various judging criteria outlined in the Call for Entries. 

The impulse is understandable. I admit to having wrestled with similar notions myself when hoping to enter a potentially lucrative competition with thousands of dollars in prize money at stake. The submission of a tried and true piece, perhaps one even pulled from a successful full-length play may be a kind of comfort a de-stresser. And of course, it requires less of you. Less time. Less thought. Less work. 

Here's why I suggest you avoid this path.

Please, someone, could you show me the onramp?

Lately, I feel the things I don't know threatening to overtake the things I know for sure. (And please don't ask me about the Rumsfeldian unknown-unknowns. For those you must consult my closest friends and family.)

I have no clue how we're coming out of Pandemic Pause. Though I did just walk through a mall and a grocery store and Bloomingdales, all of which felt way more crowded than my comfort-level barometer could abide.

How are you emerging from the last year and a half?

Are you rising from a deep sleep feeling refreshed, renewed, reinvigorated?

Or are you tentative as you take your first baby steps along a slightly overgrown path, following signs that appear to read:

This way to "normal" --->

or was that:

They say go "normal" ---/

or

Which way to "normal?"

I don't know about you but I notice my mood is all over the place.

We're now one year into Pandemic Pause. Your laptop is your lifeline. Make peace with it.

We've now been living our lives on Zoom for a year. What does this mean?

Well, among other things, it means most of our interactions--social and professional--are governed by what the device we use to log in will and will not do. My students are playwrights, directors, actors, singers and filmmakers. All creative artists with professional goals for making important new work and sharing it with the world.

It's based on this last assumption that I offer up a few thoughts on your relationship to your technology, specifically to the device that is your portal. Because in the end, you may write the Next Great American [fill-in-the-blank] but if you can't manage to save it as a PDF and send it out into the world, well... a certain tree in a certain forest comes to mind.

1. 1. Zoom. I may have dissed Zoom in some other posts and of course I understand it's not the same thing as actual sharing of actual air space. But for now, it's what we've got. Learn how it works. Don't be the one kill-joy who arrives at the party asking where the drinks are. The bar is usually in the kitchen and the ice is usually in a bucket by the sink and glasses are set out beside the bottles. Help yourself. If you don't yet know how to mute and unmute, turn your video on and off, etc. etc. you have only yourself to blame. Zoom has not rearranged the layout of this party in 12 months. They have helpful tutorial videos at zoom.us. Find them. Watch them. Google some others. Know how to use the tools available.

More or Less... A Year of Challenges & Serendipity

My pants are all tight.

My neighborhood bodega has survived.

I don't sleep through the night anymore.

My notebook of tune ideas is full.

There are friendships I fear may be slowly disappearing.

I've reconnected with people I love in distant time zones.

Productions have stalled.

New voices have found me through Zoom.

My apartment's a mess.

I clean when I want to.

My dear friend has died.

We said what we had to.

I talk to myself prolifically.

I don't care if they hear me.

Tomorrow's uncertain.

Today's more alluring.

Reading Other People's Work Productively

Here's a confession. For years, with the exeption of a handful of favorite writers, when I would pick up a new script to read, nine times out of ten, I'd hate it. And it took me years of reading and hating to finally figure out that it actually wasn't true that nine out of ten scripts I read were awful. The problem was me. 

What I figured out (about a decade ago or so) was that if I open every script I read with a load of unconscious expectations that are based on my own personal style and approach, chances are my disappointment will come quick and forcefully. The silly thing is, I'm convinced many writers I know suffer from this same skewed view. 

Once I recognized that my frustration with many scripts had more to do with individual stylistic choices at odds with my own than with actual bad writing, I was able to relax and find much to admire in many of the scripts I read. 

What are these biases? It took me awhile to recognize them and there may in fact be more than the few I've been able to identify but I will list them here.

For Music-Theatre Collaborators, It's the Questions You Hardly Ever Think to Ask That Can Make the Biggest Difference

In a music-theatre context, there are a number of questions that must be answered before any song can be completed. Often when lyricists and composers collaborate on songs for a new show, these questions may be answered unconsciously or internally by each collaborator or not at all. If one person were writing a show all by herself, that might be just fine. But in a collaboration with one or two other artists, it’s critical that everyone on the team articulate these questions together, discuss them and come to agreement on each answer. If this is done before starting work on a given song, it can save everyone a lot of extra work, frustration and other unpleasant feelings. Take the time to be just a little bit pedantic when it comes to songs you’re co-writing for a new musical and you’ll be much happier with the results.

A note about these questions. Some concern lyrics. Others concern music. And others concern both. Some composers may read a few of these and bristle at the thought of opening such questions up for discussion with a lyricist. I’d argue that while musical decisions should be the final domain of the composer, talking about such things together will likely help the collaboration work in a more strongly aligned way with the overall story being told on stage. It may not be comfortable to talk about all these things right away. But give it a try. I think you’ll find surprising results await you if you come at it with an open mind and patience borne out of knowing you’re trying something new.

These questions are questions I’ve thought to ask in my own collaborations but it is probably not exhaustive. I encourage you to add a few of your own at the bottom to make this document an even more powerful tool for your own creative process.

10 thoughts after viewing all of the 20 SAG Award nominated film performances

1st in a continuing series

 

1. Diseases are like catnip to actors, especially if they can show the progression of the disease from health to illness. (Theory of Everything, Still Alice.)

A Playwright's Nightmare: Workshopping Albee & Ives to Death

Imagine for a moment if two of the most brilliant plays now running in New York by two of our most imaginative living playwrights--David Ives and Edward Albee--had been subjected to the sort of dramaturgical “help” most of the rest of us endure on a regular basis.

Here for your enjoyment are some imaginary notes given by some well-intentioned dramaturges during the developmental workshopping of Venus in Fur and Lady from Dubuque, which thankfully apparently they never endured.

Top 100 sitcom episodes of all time (a list in progress)

After months of bugging acquaintances for suggestions, I've finally started posting my list of the “100 Best Sitcom Episodes of All Time” at my personal blog. Each episode will get a separate blog post, counting backward toward No. 1.  A list of the programs revealed so far is here. 

I'll be posting the entire list at Extra Criticum, but please visit my blog if you're interested in the meantime. And I welcome comments from the insightful E.C. audience!

Here is the introductory post:

When I decided to make a “best sitcom episodes” list last year, I had two goals in mind. One was to make the case for the sitcom as an art form to people who were unfamiliar or dismissive of it. The second was to contribute to the making of a canon, or a consensus set of episodes that critics should be familiar with so that we have some shared points of reference.

The Top 10 Reasons to Support the Arts (from Artsblog.org)

By Randy Cohen, vice president of research and policy at Americans for the Arts, the nation's advocacy organization for the arts.

Ted Hope offers 35 ways to keep the faith

Ted Hope continues to offer wisdom, wit and encouragement to those of us still committed to creating truly independent film. Check out his 35 Ways to Keep the Faith in Truly Free Film, recently posted on IndieWire:

Every "No" bringing you that much closer to a "Yes"

This great post by Adrienne Crezo on the Mental Floss blog to cheer up any writer feeling overwhelmed by rejection this Holiday Season:

For writers, getting rejected can seem like a pastime. But don’t take my word for it, even though I’ve gotten my share of no-thank-yous. These best-selling authors were rejected, too, and some not very kindly. Editors, publishers and agents have made big errors in judgment, as evidenced by the list of unkind (and sometimes needlessly rude) rejections received by these famous writers. Full post here.

From a Pile of 45s to the Digital Playlist: My History of Music Curation

I miss playing music for other people. Sure, my love of listening to music was a major driving force in seeking a career in the music industry, but for me, music is not only to be received, but also to be shared.

And since I have no great musical talents of my own - despite a year of French horn, the praise of my grandmother during piano lessons, and chorus roles in several high school and college musical theater productions - I can only share other people's music.