At 6:30 pm tonight, they will gather. Actors, writers, directors, techies: they will assemble in the Fondren neighborhood in Jackson to build a play festival from scratch. No scripts yet exist, no parts yet assigned, no sets yet constructed -- but the windows of local art galleries and cafes boast fliers publicizing a Saturday night showtime. In 48 hours, three as-yet un-conceived ten minute plays will take stage.
Welcome to Fondren Theatre Workshop's new Ten Minute Play Project.
Each of the three writers will be randomly matched with a director, a stage manager, and three actors. The three writers will be assigned three miscellaneous props or costume pieces, which must be incorporated into their ten minute script. Each script must begin with the word "stop," and must conclude with the word "start."
I am one of the three playwrights. Beginning at 6:30, I will have 24 hours to write a 10 minute play, which my director, actors, and stage manager will then have 25 hours to rehearse. I know the two other writers favor the comedic genre, so I have some freedom to perhaps descend into the dramatic. Maybe due to my introspection of late, I have an inexplicably keen awareness of being the sole female voice amidst the writers. I cannot escape this metaphor of nurturing this new script, creating a new life -- conception and delivery, all in one weekend. Although oddly enough, in any sort of baby-metaphor here, I guess all the writers, myself included, are more like the male partner: we contribute some raw material, the performers and stage crew finesse and develop it into something to share with the world. Maybe together we'll produce something wonderful.
The basic point is, we will produce something. I have to write tonight. I've committed. I'm in the playbill. The show goes up in two days, so there damn well better be a script cranked out by tomorrow night. The pressure is on...
... which is such a relief.
Sound counterintuitive? Not really. It's why, at least in theory, the strict setting of military school is often turned to for unruly children: sometimes we need structure to guide us in the right direction. In times tumultuous as these, I often find comfort in writing. Immersing myself in stories and settings of my own creation (or theft), imagined lives I can learn from and impact at my own discretion... these interactions help me feel less lonely. More empowered. What I am afraid to say or realize about my own life, I can delegate to my characters. Aside from my oft-belated posts on this blog, I have done so little writing lately. Perhaps the widening chasm can be halted tonight, as I write with purpose and deadline.
Expect a report on Sunday. I'm striving to meet all writing deadlines this week.
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2 comments:
Wow, that sounds like an amazing experience. I'd heard of similar projects before; one was the 48-hour film project that my brother participated in back in college at BU. 48-hours to come up with, film, edit, and submit a short film. You walk in with your crew and actors. Nothing else. They give you a prop that needs to appear in the film, a genre, and a phrase. That year, ImprovBoston did one. It was a musical. It was amazing. They wrote the music from scratch, they dubbed all the singing in post-production. It was cool.
Anyway, so did you survive and was it glorious? I'm sure it was :)
So fun! A musical... yikes. Ours was a fun event but far simpler ;)
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