Semi-finalists announced!
We’ve spent the summer enjoying the nearly 250 applications for Page 73′s development programs for playwrights. We love this process of getting to know new writers, and it gives us great pleasure to announce the 25 semifinalists for the 2012 P73 Playwriting Fellowship. Congratulations to our semifinalists and thanks again to all of our applicants!

(And thanks to this year’s selection committee who helped us in early rounds of reading: Mark Blankenship, Christie Evangelisto, Kip Fagan, Liz Groth, Davis McCallum, Rebecca Phillips, Stella Powell-Jones, Tommy Smith, Lisa Timmel, and Krista Williams.)

Without further ado, the semi-finalists:

Second, much Internet-noise on an article in the Times today about Todd London’s book Outrageous Fortune.  We haven’t read it it — the article will certainly increase sales (I hope, for Todd’s sake).   The article links to a review of the book by the theater critic Chris Jones; the most interesting part of the review is the online commentary that it has solicited.  On the whole, Jones’s review doesn’t seem very thoughtful or helpful (we can’t really judge, though, since we haven’t read Outrageous Fortune yet).   There’s much to say — and much that has been said — about making a living as a playwright.  Sadly, it’s virtually impossible — any playwright (established and emerging) can tell you that.    The truth, though, is that this reality applies pretty much across the board in the non-profit theater world.  Actors, directors and administrators, for the most part, have a tough time making ends meet financially.  The theater business model (from a non-profit perspective — we can’t really speak to about the one in respect of commercial theater) is one that makes little sense today (at least when you’re working in this sector in NYC).  Or has it ever made sense?  We’re non-profit.  I have friends who work for other non-profit (non-theater related) organizations and they face similar financial conundrums; they can’t work in their field *and* live in New York without taking on freelance jobs.  So maybe this issue (the one re: making a livable wage) applies to non-profit industries, as a whole.  That’s not to diminish the argument that one can’t make a living from playwriting and that the system needs to be reformed to support these writers and to prevent these writers from running off to L.A. or law school or business school, etc.

David Adjmi posted a link to the Times article today and Jason Grote provided a very funny/sad  response.  It reads:

“…Staffs usually aren’t paid very well, but artistic directors at the bigger institutions often have ridiculously huge salaries commensurate to those organizations’ budgets. Just like most other corporations, nonprofits, and universities in this goddamn country.

And in terms of audience appeal: does Eustis really think that anyone wants to see anything Suzan-Lori Parks has written in the past decade? What no one is acknowledging is that “bad plays” are often the result of tacking on a big name to sell tickets and ignoring artistic merit. Risky, “unknown” playwrights often do the best work because they still actually care about what they’re doing.

But I agree that we playwrights should stop whining. I think we should quit. Or, more precisely, I think I should quit — I wouldn’t presume to tell anyone else what to do. But I’m definitely ready to join 99% of the rest of the country in not giving a shit about theater.”

We shot this video for “Transition” but ended up not using it in the final show. I now present it to the p73 blog. Enjoy!

directed by Tommy Smith and Reggie Watts
shot by Austin Elston
sound by Emily Gallagher
editing by Joby Emmons
featuring Dana Acheson, Jess Adcock, Afreen Akhter, Raniah Al-Sayed, Ben Beckley, Aaron Cedolia, Dan Cozzens, Mary Guiteras, Nicholas Hoover, Chris Illing, Mark Karafin, Nick Lewis, Christopher Loar, Michael Markham, Stas May, Sylvia Mincewicz, Nana Mensah, Kyra Miller, Aimee Mullins, Erica Newhouse, John Pizzolato, Jessica Pohly, Livia Scott, Jen Taher, Han Tang, Geraldine Visco

A device that simulates the effects of being in another dimension.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dreamachine

Dream Machine from Tommy Smith on Vimeo.

I just experienced a couple months (two) where I simply could not write. Or rather, write anything good. Granted, I kept busy during this time — thankfully, I’m co-creating and directing Reggie Watts’ next show (www.pica.org/festival_detail_new.aspx?eventid=337) otherwise I would have been in Kafka-like despair for lack of creative output.

But for a writer, writing is a very important thing. And when you can’t do it, or feel like you can’t do it, your total sense of worth goes down the tubes. Drinking has an added tinge of despair. The sky seems duller. You wake up and think: This again?

Enter into my last few months. It started with my last p73 reading of THE WIFE, which got such a total and baffling response that it simply shut me down. You get three tiers of response from readings. There is the superficial level — everyone smiling and saying good work. This is always appreciated, of course, but you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. There are two subcategories here: People who are on your side, and whether they liked it or not, will give you honest response that will benefit your thinking in further drafts. The other: People who don’t care for your artistic project in general, and will lob comments aimed to kneecap your worth as an artist and, by proxy, human being.

Many times, the latter category are playwrights themselves. After the reading, I found myself cooking breakfast for a playwright friend of mine who was present at the reading, and as I was frying the eggs slowly over the stovetop, I was greeted with passive-agressive and outright vicious comments about my naive assumptions about Jews and women. A week later, I found myself on a train with another playwright, who similarly had major problems with how I could *possibly* depict people in this manner. In both cases, they assumed I didn’t know my tactics — that the childish and self-centered and racially incorrect POV that the play employs was somehow a mistake of my misguided perception. (read the play here to see for yourself: www.vimeo.com/tommysmith) Of course, I smiled and said nothing during these interrogations — the only thing worse than a playwright writing a play is a playwright defending a play.

When I get stuck in these situations, I wonder if people are superimposing their desire to see the narrative conform with how they view the world. I know I do this when I see work. Playwrights are people with stubborn and inflexible points-of-view — without this, we wouldn’t be able to write.

But when this stubborn and inflexible point of view becomes dilluted, we pause. We reconsider. We evaluate our tactics and purpose for writing our narrative. And we entertain the death-knell for any artist: Maybe they’re *right*.

I can’t claim why Writer’s Block happens to anyone else, but for me, it always occurs when I listen to people too much. You can’t shut yourself off to all comments, of course, because you’re in theatre, and without a certain level of communication it all falls apart. But when you feel people aren’t understanding your work, and they are letting their frustration with your project overwhelm their decency in conveying their response, you must not listen to them anymore. Even if they are right. Because the worst thing that can inflict you as an artist is a multiplicity of voices inside your consciousness. How can you possibly express yourself or your characters if you are trying to pay heed to the multiple desires of an outside commentators? I’ve seen so many promising plays destroyed by “committee” — the playwright, in an effort to make their work please everyone, creates a monster that contains a lot of elements but has no driving perspective. I would rather see a searing play from a singular voice with flawed dramaturgy (e.g. Thomas Bradshaw) than a well-made drama with nothing to say because it has three or four voices competing for dominance.

I was receiving so many varied comments on THE WIFE — many positive, some negative, all with a strong point-of-view on how it should be *different* — that I literally had to flee the city. I went to LA — Reggie and I decided to construct our show while crashing a series of couches. And the detachment ended up cutting down the voices rolling in my head. I ate lots of cheeseburgers. I swam in rolling waves. I hung out with my LA friends, who are *convinced* that everything (aside from global evidence to the contrary) is going to be all right. I disengaged. Five days before I left, I woke up with an idea, and that idea led me to my computer, and before I knew it I had the narrative for my next play. Nothing *happened* — I just stopped listening, and made myself unavailable to commentary.

I know much more accomplished playwrights than I who have been crippled by reviews, or stopped writing temporarily because of how something was received. The Block happens at all levels, at all times, all ages.

I don’t really have a final thought or aphorism to summarize all the above. I should probably get back to writing…

(Addition on 7/13/08: Just talked with Thomas Bradshaw. What I mean by “flawed dramaturgy” is that the strong idiosyncrasies of the writing and subject matter force the play to not conform to a easily recognizable structure, and in many cases, refuse to include characters we can “identify with”. I simply don’t understand this need for “identification” in characters — when I listen to classical, I don’t complain when a violin solo is too complex and out of my experience, and nor should people care if they can’t see their desires reflected in complex and challenging writing, because there are millions of different experiences and you should be grateful that you’re getting to experience one that it outside yourself.

Regardless, “flawed” plays often render themselves useless in the eyes of producers and literary managers, who have been forced to concern themselves with the desires of a phantom audience. But these kind of plays include everything by Caryl Churchill, Shakespeare’s “Cymbeline”, Sam Shepard through the 80s, Charles Mee, everything by Harold Pinter, etc. In short, masterpieces. AND the only plays we remember from that era. So the argument could be made: Flawed plays with strong points-of-view have shaped the history of theatre.)

Michael McQuilken (man in video) and I are going to Prague Theatre Festival later this month to perform our co-written show “A Day In Dig Nation”. We just re-staged the opening; Michael needed this for rehearsal purposes. Rehearsal space is my loft. Imagine an intricate projection sequence going on behind Michael, illustrating the sound & foley…

The first in a series of web videos commissioned by The New York Council for Poets and Playwrights (NYCPP).

I’ve been hearing that non-profit theater is entering another “New Play” craze. Theaters around the country are chomping at the bit to get in on the action (and limited funding). At least, that’s what we’ve been told. I don’t know if I believe it, though. But there do seem to be a lot of new play opportunities (e.g., lab development programs, playwriting fellowship, etc.). But, like in the business world, everything in the theater is cyclical. Let’s see how long this trend lasts. (I’m waiting for the largest non-profit in the country to get in on the game now. Won’t be long, I’m sure.)