The Invisible Quota

Flim-flam.
Whim, wham…
Ha-cha-cha!
The quota has been filled.
–Sue
Add comment July 2nd, 2008

Flim-flam.
Whim, wham…
Ha-cha-cha!
The quota has been filled.
–Sue
Add comment July 2nd, 2008

We caught a matinee of Caryl Churchill’s Top Girls this past Saturday at the Biltmore Theatre. (I had seen her play Blue Heart in London in 1997.) It was really well done, and even though much of the play was sad, there were many light moments and reaffirmations of life.
One of those moments happened on line at the ladies’ room during the second intermission. Sitting only a row behind me was a young woman I had gone to high school with, we sang in chorus class together.
We exchanged the obligatory “How have you been?” and “What are you up to?” When I told her I’m a playwright, she said, “Oh, then this must be boring for you…”
I said, “No, it’s fun!”
She said, “Yeah, but this is what you do… You’ve already seen this all before.”
And I said, “No, it’s still fun!”
I walked away laughing to myself… I’m lucky to be doing what I love doing… and even if I’ve been doing it for a while, and sometimes it’s hard, it’s still wonderful… How could I keep at it so long if I didn’t love it?
But then I realized, not everyone is so fortunate to do what they love. Not everyone is so fortunate to know what they want to devote their lives to… and actually DO it.
To borrow a Paul Simon lyric, I’m “still crazy after all these years” about theatre, and I hope that’s how I’ll always feel.
–Sue
Add comment July 1st, 2008
I wrote a scene today where it’s more than obvious that the character is flat out lying… She even gets up before the camera stops taping — that’s how bad she wants out of the interview… I was nervous about her coming off sounding like an @$$hole, but when she just flat out lies like that, she sounds like even more of one…
The thing is, I don’t really want to change what she says… I wrote the scene straight the first time… I had her say exactly what her motivation was, but it was too cut and dry — and it just wasn’t real.
I realize not every character will be liked… I’ve written more than a few who aren’t… but that was always my intention from the outset, and this time, that just wasn’t the case.
This isn’t a problem, but more of a milestone… That scene, and those two minutes, might be the most humane two minutes I’ve written for this piece to date.
This is starting to get good…
–Sue
Add comment June 24th, 2008
It hit me yesterday amid 3 loads of laundry why I needed to have the foundation of a loving relationship and marriage before I could or would “make it big”…
There are many many things on this earth that I love doing more than doing laundry… But, it needed to get done. To make our household run smoothly on a daily basis, I do a lot of small things that aren’t anywhere nearly as glamorous as accepting my Tony Awards…
But, the truth is, a lot of that stuff needs to happen to make any collaborative effort have any kind of chance. Everyone needs to pitch in and do whatever they can, whenever they can, to make it work. Theatre, just like a home and family, is a collaborative effort.
As small as laundry may seem, it’s a bunch of those small things that make this big thing, our life together, work… and our life is so much bigger than me…
I was actually thankful folding socks and underwear yesterday… thankful to be a part of something so big and full of love.
To be great, I have to be grateful. And I am… but I never thought I’d feel that doing the laundry!
–Sue
Add comment June 20th, 2008
A few moments ago, I heard Mandy Patinkin give an acceptance speech on behalf of Lifetime Achievement Award winner, Stephen Sondheim.
Sondheim quipped that “there’s a finality” to a Lifetime Achievement Award, and he’s right…
What struck me as wonderful, and so appropriate, is that there wasn’t a hurried montage of some of Mr. Sondheim’s past achievements, there was a single staged performance from the revival of his amazing “Sunday in the Park with George,” currently at the Roundabout Theatre.
The number, “Move On,” was so wonderfully poignant, relating to the veteran maestro’s words, but also to any artist featured during the evening or watching the Tony Awards on TV.
Dot sings:
Just keep moving on
Anything you do,
Let it come from you
Then it will be new
Give us more to see…
I promise, you’ll get more from me…
–Sue
Add comment June 15th, 2008
As regular readers of this blog know, I love many of the reality shows on Bravo. I love watching artists create in real time, and watching as they get feedback from trained professionals in their respective fields.
The newest delightful addition is “Step it Up and Dance.” We’ve been watching each episode with rapt attention.
Cody Green, the ultimate technician, seemed to be on top early on, but later got hammered for not emoting enough. He was finally pushed to the edge and ended up dancing his way to the winner’s circle.
The way judge Nancy O’Meara pushed him reminded me of a teacher I had at Emerson who pushed me. Her name was Betsy Carpenter, and she put up with two semesters of me talking through a lot of my own crap while successfully pushing off doing my work.
Betsy passed away a while ago, and so she won’t get the chance to see my plays on their feet, but I’d still like to thank her.
At the time, especially during my thesis defense when I thought I might not graduate, I hated her. I hated her for not “helping” me… She just kept saying “I can’t write it for you, you’ve gotta write it on your own, Baby.” She made me fight for my own voice… and now it’s so loud and clear! It was the preparation I needed to keep going in a business where it isn’t easy to get one’s voice heard.
So, Betsy, I’d like to thank you for pushing me, and in the best way you could, helping me find the strength to push myself. Even if you’re not watching now, I hope you will be at the theatre. I’ll be sure to save a seat for you.
–Sue
Add comment June 9th, 2008
I was working on a proposal for a new musical (in its preliminary stages) yesterday when it occurred to me that I don’t really know one of my characters all too well… I started wondering why that was, and who he is… And then I went off to take a shower…
Wonderfully, between shampoo and conditioner, I heard him speak. Actually, I heard another character (his ex-wife) talking about him, and then I heard him describe himself.
Naturally, I ran to write it down… I had been waiting months to hear him, and it was an inspired moment.
When a friend called in the middle, I told her that I’d heard him speak and was trying to get it all down. She laughed it off, thinking I was just being Sue, I guess…
But the point is, that while it’s true a lot of my work is crafting… a lot of it is also just LISTENING… being open enough to hear what’s already there…
My other point is, we can all probably find lots of inspiration in every day life by just listening and being open to what’s already there.
–Sue
Add comment May 22nd, 2008

Oftentimes, when I’m writing, I cobble together things I’ve imagined, seen, or heard… And though my experience colors what I write, the majority of my manuscripts aren’t my experiences.
I did write a scene that was partially a direct experience, a memory from when I was a very young girl, of not going to the wedding taking place in the backyard of the two family home we rented.
I didn’t realize how much the memory, and the decision a young girl made, had affected my life, and didn’t realize how good it would feel to let go of it. I have Landmark to thank for that revelation.
Well, since I let go of it and moved on in my own life, I thought it would be easy then to incorporate that into this scene, a scene I had written about a year ago… When I read the scene the other day, it just didn’t sit right… and I thought it was a problem with my writing.
The problem was, it was still a little too close to home. I realized that today when talking to a friend and relaying the story to her… When I hung up, I knew the re-write I did today wasn’t necessary. I also knew that I needed to leave in that memory, even if it was still tender to the touch…
Remarkably, or maybe not so remarkably, I soon started doubting if the entire play was any good… I found myself wanting validation that I was doing the right thing, or that the scene (and play) were good. Then I came back to the same revelation: Go for it anyway!
So I did… I’ll let you know how it goes…
–Sue
Add comment May 19th, 2008
My cousin sent me a gift… a shimmery, delicate butterfly that I hung above my desk, that hangs behind me as I write this…
I dabble in feng shui a bit, and tried to decide where to put my new winged beauty. It was my husband who suggested the area by my desk…
I did some research first, just to be sure… and found out that butterflies are associated with the “Fame” area of the bagua, given their ability to metamorphose into something so beautiful…
When I sent my cousin an email thanking her, and explaining this, she sent me a You Tube video with the “Fame” theme song… You remember it:
Fame! I’m gonna live forever!
I’m gonna learn how to fly high.
I feel it coming together…
People’ll see me and cry!
…Baby, remember my name!
I remember hearing that as a young girl… I still hear it in my head from time to time… but I know from experience now that you do pay for it…
It doesn’t necessarily happen in the School for the Arts like it does in the show credits… it happens in life. It means getting your heart broken so you can write about it… learning to pick yourself up after hearing “no” over and over again… building the solid foundation and network you need so that fame doesn’t mean that much anymore…
And I think I can honestly say that’s where I am… Playwrights don’t get famous like Tennessee Williams or Arthur Miller did… and I’m kinda glad… The pressure finally got to him in the end, and Tenn killed himself because he was so paranoid that everyone hated him.
I want my work produced now, and long after I’m gone, that’s true… but I want to have a normal life, like the one I’m building with my family and friends now…
Instead of it being the meal, I finally understand that fame is just gravy…
–Sue
Add comment May 13th, 2008
Friday night, we experienced Sunday in Park with George at the Roundabout Theatre Company.
An enchanting evening, it was intimate, and a much physically smaller production than the 80’s original. Innovative technology was used to pull us in and marvel at George’s (the spirited Daniel Evans) painting as he is painting it.
This virtual “seeing” brought an immediacy that cut-outs never could. And though I had always wanted to see this show, I’m glad this was the version I saw.
But, the technology even stretched to the marketing of the show… There was an insert in our programs about the Dot Project. As the website explains, it’s a way for audiences to “Connect with audience members, fans of the show, and even Sunday cast members!”
The most amazing thing about this is that the painting becomes more complete as more people “connect the dots” and fill in their own dots…
Art, whether as a painting, poem, or play serves as a touchstone — connecting us to the world and ourselves by giving us a way of seeing, and ultimately, a way of being.
This past Friday was an amazing “Sunday;” I found myself connecting my own dots as an artist, and it already seems like the picture is more complete…
–Sue
Add comment April 28th, 2008