So the final countdown is on (you may sing it) the play opens in less than 2 weeks. (Gulp). And in the midst of writing a few press pieces about it, some random things that don't fall into any category keep popping up. And so ahead of next weekend's likely more serious, reflective blog on the whole thing finally happening, here is a list of 5 things I'm worried about and 10 random facts....
Five things I’m worried about:
1.
Accounting for my own lack of diversity. As a
woke-ass-theatre-tweeter, and as Chair of the Board for an inclusive theatre
company. And as a female-queer-working-class-disabled-theatre-maker I’m
PAINFULLY aware of the need for diversity. But I’m also painfully aware this is
a very heterosexual, white, able bodied play. I wrote a longer piece on this,
but it’s a lot of my soul searching that is boring and boils down to; we can
only tell one story at a time. This might be a straight play, but I’ve written Queer
plays. I also can’t single headedly fix theatre’s diversity and accessibility
problem (but I’m giving it a good go) again, one thing at a time. I acknowledge
those problems; I can’t always write my way out of them.
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| Live footage of twitter arguments kicking off |
2.
People will look for me in the play, and
themselves. Am I Grace? Am I John? Louis? (I’m not Louis, I ain’t cool enough)
The answer is all of them wrapped up in one. There are bits of me in all of
them. And obviously bits of my life. Bits of it are incredibly personal, I’ve
made no secret of that, and I’ll talk some more about that next week. Some bits
(mainly comedy bits) stolen from real life. I don’t know how to write any other
way. But that’s also why I had to write this play- to get those parts of me out
of me but also to share them with the world in the hope someone else has thought
those things too. Isn’t that why any of us write anything, to say, ‘is it just
me or…’ and hope that someone answers? And by the way, boy in High School who
said that thing to me? Yeah that’s you.
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| Judging that boy from High School |
3.
A critic writing theatre is asking for trouble.
That people will tell me to stick to writing reviews. Or stick the knife in just
to get one back on the critic. And a particularly nasty encounter with a critic
and editor/site runner compounded this fear this week. Take a deep breath. Own
it, know any critic worth their salt will assess the play on its merits, and
anyone who doesn’t isn’t worth thinking about. It’s been a viscous old summer
in the critic/theatre maker divide, and please dear lord can we start playing
nicely again? I trust audiences to be polite enough to clap politely and leave.
I trust my friends enough to tell me the truth. Also I’ll read reviews; I’ll
take constructive criticism. I always write with those making the piece in mind
as much as audiences. All I ask is others do the same for me.
4.
That it’s actually terrible. This one is almost
a parody of a neurotic playwright. But it’s true. Every writer will assume at
some point what they’ve written is terrible. But for me this particular
neurosis is haunted by hearing ‘it’s a disappointment’. An actual conversation
I had with someone I’d been working closely with on it ‘It’s just that this
[final draft] came in an it’s such a disappointment’ ‘In what way? What can I do?’
‘I don’t know it’s such a disappointment, and I was so excited before. Oh well’
I don’t need to embellish or elaborate on that one, that conversation is burned
into my brain forevermore. I didn’t cry at the time. I’ve cried many times
since. Constructive criticism is great- sometimes hard to hear, but great. I’ve
had ‘worse’ said of my work in some ways, had it ripped apart more. But hearing
that…it’s burned into my mind forever. I secretly worry everyone associated with
it still thinks the same. That it’s forever a disappointment before we even
started.
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| Please come, or James will have no friends |
5.
That nobody will come. I mean this is the kind
of ‘naked in school’ anxiety dream right? That I’ll rock up and nobody else
will and it’ll be an awkward evening of listening to actors read my own lines
at me. It’s hard at the best of times getting theatre audiences. So please do
me a favour if any of this sounds interesting or you just take pity on me book
tickets here (yes, yes this is a
shameless plug)
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| I'm guessing we're now doing a production of Aladdin and I'm ok with it |
10 random things about this play (No real spoilers)
1.
Louis was not, as one might expect from me,
named after Louis Theroux but actually named after Louis Ironson in Angels in
America. (and is pronounced ‘Lewis’ in my head for that reason). Grace is named
after Grace from Will and Grace. (I have another play with a character named
after Will). John is named for Jonathan Larson.
2.
I’m not nearly as obsessed with cake as this
play would suggest. In an early idea-of-a-draft the cake was connected to Grace
having an eating disorder. That went away (it’s not about that) the cake stayed
and took on a life of its own. (Now I’m thinking of cake coming to life and it’s
terrifying.)
3.
The story Grace tells about her flatmate did
indeed happen to me.
4.
The story Grace tells about a Penis also did.
5.
Most of this was re-written in the Skanky
Starbucks near my house. Which I’m reliably informed is where drug dealers hang
out.
6.
I can tell you the exact location I had the idea
for this play; Indigo Bookstore on Rue Saint Catherine in Montreal (near, but
not in the self-help section, but I still ‘see’ that in my mind when I think of
the play).
7.
John was originally a Barrister. He morphed into
an academic somewhere around the time I did (I do in fact know jack-shit about
art…but google is a wonderful thing).
8.
Every book in the play is a book I own. And yes,
there was reasoning behind them all.
9.
The whole thing was actually inspired by the song
‘Will I?’ from Rent.
10. It’s
original title, and the one it what it will always be called in my head is ‘Midnights
and Cups of Coffee’
We're going to a few places...check it out! (please come?)
