(no subject)
So an hour and a half ago, I got back from the Prescott version of the 24 hour plays. Eighteen people got together at 9pm last night and five plays were performed between 7:30 and 9pm tonight. We separated into groups of writers, directors and actors, except for me, Joe and Charissa who were double-duty insane freaks. I actually ended up being triple-duty and doing lights too, which almost caused a nervous breakdown except that everyone was so wonderful there was no proverbial back-breaking straw. Plus Charissa said I'd get paid for doing lights.
Charissa, my boss, teacher and friend, introduces everyone to the idea at the first meeting last night.
Us playwrights show off our feet and the polaroids of the actors we then picked to be in our play. (We each wrote a play specifically for the actors we picked. It's the best way to make sure everyone has enough actors and every actor gets a part. Plus, it ups the chances of the casting working well with the play.)
Every person brought a prop with them to serve as inspiration for the playwrights. Joe brought a fan, a hatchet, a roll of duct tape, and a bible. I said, "Oo, someone should write a murder mystery." No one did. But we could have, and that's what matters.
Around about 3am...
no one was at their laptops...
astonishingly enough...
except Nathaniel!
But Nathaniel was the last person to finish his play, clocking at 7:15, giving Charissa 15 minutes to print copies for the directors who arrived at 7:30.
Charissa reads my play at 4am. Yes, it is a silly play. I almost wrote a heartbreaking gay romance involving "The Ocean" by Dar Williams and a large pink towel, but I decided I didn't want to get into that with only six hours to write. So, um, instead I wrote about the evil overlord of the ocean floor and his reluctant sidekick who was sick of not having any dry towels. Here's a Word doc of the script. It turned out surprisingly well on stage, thanks in part to some spectacular actors.
Andrew decides he's done writing at 4:30am. His play was even weirder than mine. I directed his play. It was about French operatic squirrels. And walruses. And lots of other stuff. If I gave out a prize for Best Imagination Andrew would get it.
Rachel the gypsie pirate and Kelly the pirate captain with a broken foot mug for the camera during Saturday morning rehearsal.
Group "after" picture. Missing are one director, one writer, and one actor. Do we all look insane enough?
The experience of watching something of mine go from blank page to stage is incredible. I felt satisfied with my script, in that it had a beginning, middle and end, with semi-coherant plot and characters, but the director and actors made every joke comprehensible, made one-liners into insights, and generally made me look a lot better than I am. I love them for it.
Should really sleep. Have homework to do tomorrow. Not to mention a nice Stargate: Atlantis disc from Netflix.
Charissa, my boss, teacher and friend, introduces everyone to the idea at the first meeting last night.
Us playwrights show off our feet and the polaroids of the actors we then picked to be in our play. (We each wrote a play specifically for the actors we picked. It's the best way to make sure everyone has enough actors and every actor gets a part. Plus, it ups the chances of the casting working well with the play.)
Every person brought a prop with them to serve as inspiration for the playwrights. Joe brought a fan, a hatchet, a roll of duct tape, and a bible. I said, "Oo, someone should write a murder mystery." No one did. But we could have, and that's what matters.
Around about 3am...
no one was at their laptops...
astonishingly enough...
except Nathaniel!
But Nathaniel was the last person to finish his play, clocking at 7:15, giving Charissa 15 minutes to print copies for the directors who arrived at 7:30.
Charissa reads my play at 4am. Yes, it is a silly play. I almost wrote a heartbreaking gay romance involving "The Ocean" by Dar Williams and a large pink towel, but I decided I didn't want to get into that with only six hours to write. So, um, instead I wrote about the evil overlord of the ocean floor and his reluctant sidekick who was sick of not having any dry towels. Here's a Word doc of the script. It turned out surprisingly well on stage, thanks in part to some spectacular actors.
Andrew decides he's done writing at 4:30am. His play was even weirder than mine. I directed his play. It was about French operatic squirrels. And walruses. And lots of other stuff. If I gave out a prize for Best Imagination Andrew would get it.
Rachel the gypsie pirate and Kelly the pirate captain with a broken foot mug for the camera during Saturday morning rehearsal.
Group "after" picture. Missing are one director, one writer, and one actor. Do we all look insane enough?
The experience of watching something of mine go from blank page to stage is incredible. I felt satisfied with my script, in that it had a beginning, middle and end, with semi-coherant plot and characters, but the director and actors made every joke comprehensible, made one-liners into insights, and generally made me look a lot better than I am. I love them for it.
Should really sleep. Have homework to do tomorrow. Not to mention a nice Stargate: Atlantis disc from Netflix.