Play-a-day week: what I learned
Last week, I had the goal of writing a one-page play (which I interpreted as being from 1/2 page to 2 pages) every day, starting on Sunday. The first six have been posted on this blog. The seventh got away from me; it can't be done in a couple of pages, and isn't finished yet.
What have I learned? (Suddenly I hear Eugene Levy saying "I do indeed have talent." That's not what I've learned.)
I don't know how to format plays, but I already knew that. I looked up stage left/right to confirm that it's from the actors' viewpoint (it is), but otherwise just wrote stuff down any old how.
I could go on forever, really, enumerating things I didn't learn from this experience. Shall I? No? But isn't it cute how I pretend I have readers?
Some of the lessons from the experience:
- Dialogue alone is not enough.
- My own verbal tics should not be inflicted on my characters.
- Related to the above, there's a difference between real speech and realistic speech. (I already knew that, but I absorbed the knowledge a bit more.)
- Micro-drama (and I'm sure this is true of micro-fiction as well) sometimes has to dispense with beginnings and/or endings. I think one can rarely, if ever, manage without a middle.
- Good nonsense is one of the hardest things in the world to write. (That's what I was trying to do on day 4.)
- When I make a daily writing commitment, my unconscious will pick up the ball when I drop it. I don't want to take that for granted, but it's good to know.
- If I really want to learn how to write plays, I should go to more live theater.
Play-a-day week, day 6: The Pig, a dream play
Based on a dream I had.
THE PIG
A dream play by Carl Bettis
CHARACTERS
DAD, a rather ordinary man
MADDIE, his daughter, a girl of about 10
THE QUEEN, a ghost from an ancient civilization
PROPS
A mechanical guinea pig the size of a large hamster; various textile pieces
SCENE: A darkened stage; DAD alone in a spotlight, towards stage left.
DAD (calling): Maddie, can you help me?
A second spotlight comes up to show MADDIE, center stage, and follows her as she walks over to her father.
DAD: I need to write a play for class. Any ideas?
MADDIE: What about those caves I found from an ancient civilization?
Lights come up to show that they are in a cave, with signs of having been inhabited long ago. At the rear of the stage is a stone ledge, holding mounds of fabrics that were once brightly patterned, now faded with age. Tunnels lead off in various directions.
DAD: That's a setting. What's the story?
MADDIE: A girl finds caves from an ancient civilization.
DAD: A story needs conflict. There has to be something she wants --
MADDIE: Gold.
DAD: -- and something that keeps her from getting it --
MADDIE: The darkness inside.
DAD: Hm. That's kind of vague.
MADDIE: Maybe the people aren't really gone. They come back. And there's a pig.
A guinea pig enters stage right; it looks real, but its movements are mechanical. It turns around. The other side is cut away to show the inner workings. MADDIE bends down and snaps her fingers, beckoning the guinea pig.
DAD (gesturing towards the guinea pig): See, I was thinking a real pig, not a guinea pig.
MADDIE: Oh.
(straightens up)
The guinea pig exits stage left. MADDIE walks over to the ledge, picks up an elaborate ornamental hanging; it looks important and ceremonial. A row of large gems along one edge, one missing.
DAD: Why would they come back?
MADDIE: I dunno.
She looks around the ledge, finds the missing gem. She puts it in its place on the fabric. Turns the hanging over, finds an ugly, cheap-looking piece of cloth sewn on.
MADDIE: This doesn't go at all.
She rips off the ugly cloth. THE QUEEN enters silently from a tunnel towards stage right, and stands behind MADDIE. Her expression is neutral. Neither MADDIE nor DAD react to her presence.
DAD: It sounds interesting, but I'm not sure it's really a play. How could it be staged?
MADDIE (losing interest): Maybe not. I'm gonna go play in the throne room.
MADDIE exits down the stage right tunnel, followed by THE QUEEN.
CURTAIN
Play-a-day week, day 5: Whose time, notes for an improv performance
This is horrible, meaningless and pretentious, but the important thing is that I followed through on my commitment and wrote it.
WHOSE TIME?
Notes for an improvised performance in 6 stanzas, by Carl Bettis
CHARACTERS
OLD MAN
OLD WOMAN
YOUNG MAN
YOUNG WOMAN
BOY (about 10)
GIRL (about 10)
SCENE: Played outdoors. Inclement weather should affect the performance.
STANZA 1
OLD WOMAN and BOY argue about what to eat and what time it is. They can't agree on a scale. BOY counts in hours and minutes, OLD WOMAN in decades and years.
STANZA 2
YOUNG MAN and OLD WOMAN. YOUNG MAN explains how he uses his body to tell time, and talks about his excellent internal alarm clock. OLD WOMAN talks about vacation postcards from friends.
STANZA 3
OLD MAN, OLD WOMAN, YOUNG MAN, YOUNG WOMAN, BOY and GIRL play freeze tag for as long as they want.
STANZA 4
OLD MAN and YOUNG WOMAN in a car; YOUNG WOMAN is driving. OLD MAN keeps reminding her what the speed limit is. YOUNG WOMAN tries to find a radio station she likes.
STANZA 5
YOUNG MAN and OLD MAN. YOUNG MAN talks about the changes he wants to make in the world. OLD MAN talks about the changes the world has made in him.
STANZA 6
OLD MAN, OLD WOMAN, YOUNG MAN, YOUNG WOMAN, BOY and GIRL give their own definitions of time, simultaneously.
THE END
Play-a-day week, day 4: Metamorphoses, or The Sinister Comeback
A nonsense play.
METAMORPHOSES, OR THE SINISTER COMEBACK
A play by Carl Bettis
CHARACTERS
ERATOSTHENES: a short order engineer; wears a charcoal-gray trigonometry
MUTUAL SPARK: a messenger between libidos; polymorphic; this part should be underplayed to the point of omission
KRINGE: an aging punk rock chick; hair dyed purple and yellow in alternate months; has a striking profile, which is tattooed in silhouette onto each cheek
DEAD MOUSE: a dead mouse
SCENE: Malaise, WV; a garden party. ERATOSTHENES is pulling up flowers and throwing them into confusion. KRINGE stands by the punch bowl wishing she were thirsty. MUTUAL SPARK hovers near her in a vaporous state. DEAD MOUSE is dead.
KRINGE (to Mutual Spark): Read that bag to me.
(MUTUAL SPARK solidifies, holding a paper grocery sack covered with scribbles and hope)
MUTUAL SPARK (with a dormant shellfish allergy): My five fearsome sunbeams in May, my August 9th 10th drop of sweat, my fumbled woodknot, let's thread these cattails through cathedrals ruined and unbuilt; cardinals and blackbirds evicted from tear ducts shall form the slip. Should we shudder? I know I. Remains, your wincing venom.
KRINGE: Will he purchase the produce? I'm overstocked but vine-ripened.
(ERATOSTHENES stares at his vegetable carnage, absentmindedly chewing his ears. Leaves stumble and crawl, drunk and craving a cigarette. In another part of the world, a homeless child invents edible light, which tastes like clover and diffidence.)
MUTUAL SPARK: Monterey jack couldn't have spread it butter.
KRINGE: Go, my fitful nap, tell him!
(The actors playing ERATOSTHENES and KRINGE trade roles. MUTUAL SPARK becomes a bolt of lightning which strikes DEAD MOUSE, singeing his whiskers; derelict elves sip the scent. MUTUAL SPARK, now a snake and a rake, slithers and rattles to ERATOSTHENES)
MUTUAL SPARK: The dead mouse is dead.
ERATOSTHENES: Tell her I prove. I leveraged since the moment, or 7 milliseconds. Regale like a rallied hurricane, my rococo trope!
(The playhouse becomes self-conscious and feels the crushing weight of its sins. The city becomes more cosmopolitan but a little phony. A mosquito bites one of the ushers, who becomes all the characters. Phlogiston stages a comeback.)
CURTAIN
Play-a-day week, day 3: They wouldn’t help me
The following play is based on a true encounter, much fictionalized and brought up to date.
THEY WOULDN'T HELP ME
A play by Carl Bettis
CHARACTERS
BLIND WOMAN: White-haired, very erect posture, rather elegantly dressed; sunglasses, white cane; an ugly scar runs across her throat.
YOUNG MAN: Mid-twenties, dressed in business casual; cell phone in a holster.
HENRY: A bus driver, not seen onstage.
SCENE: A city bus stop, a little before sunrise. The bus stop is near one edge of the stage. BLIND WOMAN stands at the stop, facing the audience, smiling broadly. This smile never leaves her face.
(YOUNG MAN enters and approaches bus stop. Glances at BLIND WOMAN, then looks down the street.)
BLIND WOMAN (chanting): They wouldn't help me at the police station...
(chuckles long and rhythmically)
they eat and drink to their own damnation.
(chuckles as before)
(YOUNG MAN looks nervously at her. He starts when his cell phone chirps, then answers it.)
YOUNG MAN (into phone, quietly): Hello? (pause) I'm on my way in now. The car wouldn't start.
BLIND WOMAN: The gears of state are caked with mud...
(chuckles as before)
(YOUNG MAN moves a little further away from BLIND WOMAN)
YOUNG MAN (into phone): I'm taking the bus.
BLIND WOMAN: There's cleansing power in the morning blood.
(chuckles as before)
(YOUNG MAN starts pacing, looking down the street frequently)
YOUNG MAN (into phone): Well, I can't do anything from here. Tell them we're working on it.
BLIND WOMAN: Mommy knew just how to begin...
(chuckles as before)
YOUNG MAN (into phone): I see it coming now.
BLIND WOMAN: She who is dead is free from sin.
(chuckles as before)
YOUNG MAN (into phone): No, wrong bus. It turned off. Damn!
BLIND WOMAN: Spirit of power, by which we cry...
(chuckles as before)
YOUNG MAN (into phone): Sorry to interrupt, but I need to go.
BLIND WOMAN: If it offends you, pluck out your eye!
(chuckles as before)
(BLIND WOMAN takes off her sunglasses, revealing holes and scar tissue where her eyes should be)
YOUNG MAN (into phone): I'm calling a cab. Be there soon.
(YOUNG MAN exits briskly, jabbing at buttons on his cell phone. BLIND WOMAN puts her sunglasses back on.)
(Pause. Sound of bus pulling up, bus doors opening)
HENRY (offstage): Hey, how you doin' this morning?
BLIND WOMAN: Fine, Henry. Yourself?
(BLIND WOMAN exits stage to board bus)
HENRY (offstage): Can't complain. Did that fella want this bus?
BLIND WOMAN (offstage): Young people! Not even the manners to say good morning anymore.
(Sound of bus doors closing, bus driving away)
Play-a-day week, day 2: The Troubleshooter
THE TROUBLESHOOTER: AN AUDIO PLAY
CHARACTERS:
BRIAN, a help desk tech support specialist for Fantod Systems
CALLER 1
CALLER 2
CALLER 3
CALLER 4
CALLER 5
(Phone chirrs)
BRIAN: Fantod Systems, this is Brian.
CALLER 1: Yeah, I'm having a problem with your application.
BRIAN: Just one minute... Okay, I went into the database and cleared the "Problem" bit. You should be fine now.
CALLER 1: Thanks!
(Phone chirrs)
BRIAN: Fantod Systems, this is Brian.
CALLER 2: Brian? My name's Chris. I get an error when I try to do stuff.
BRIAN: Hold on, please... There, I've cleared the "Error" bit in the database. It should work for you now.
CALLER 2: Let me try it... Cool, it works! Thank you!
(Phone chirrs)
BRIAN: Fantod Systems, this is Brian.
CALLER 3: Hi, I'm calling to report a bug in your system?
BRIAN: A bug, huh? Well, that's no good. Just a second... There, I've fixed it.
CALLER 3: What was the issue?
BRIAN: The "Bug" bit somehow got set in the database. Sorry about that.
CALLER 3: No problem.
(Phone chirrs)
BRIAN: Fantod Systems, this is Brian.
CALLER 4: Hey, man, your program doesn't work! I've tried it six times!
BRIAN: I'm terribly sorry. Give me just a minute here... Ah, yeah... The "works" bit needs to be set to 1... Done! Try it again, and if you're still having problems, give us a call back.
CALLER 4: You can count on it.
BRIAN: I apologize for the inconvenience.
CALLER 4: Whatever.
(Phone chirrs)
BRIAN: Fantod Systems, this is Brian.
CALLER 5: Hello, Brian. I'm running IE 9 on Windows 7, with automatic updates turned on. When I log in and go to the History tab, then enter my PIN and click the "Next" button, I see an error message that says "JIT config error code 1507 - null not set to null instance" -- hang on, I just emailed you a screenshot -- and then I'm kicked back to the login screen.
BRIAN: I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific. Are you calling to report a problem, an error, a bug, or that it doesn't work?
Play-a-day week, day 1: The Sun and the Scientist
This week I'm writing a one-page play every day (meaning 1/2 page to 2 pages). I'm not bothering with formatting, and I don't expect to write anything good, but I'll post them here anyway. Sunday's: The Sun and the Scientist.
THE SUN AND THE SCIENTIST
a play in one scene
CHARACTERS
THE SUN, a blond man who looks like a middle-aged surfer; blotchy face.
THE SCIENTIST, a man of any age from mid-20s up; slightly unkempt.
SETTING: A room, much of which is taken up with a large, high-tech telescope; a desk holds a computer and messy piles of paper; an office chair; a second chair; a bookcase full of books. Lighting dim. THE SCIENTIST is at his desk, working on the computer.
(The end of the telescope is kicked off from the inside. THE SUN crawls out of the telescope, wearing only shorts. Lighting gets brighter.)
SCIENTIST: Hey, careful! That's some expensive equipment.
SUN: Don't you know who I am, man?
SCIENTIST: Of course. I'm working on a paper about you right now, and I'm on a deadline. If you want to talk to me, please make an appointment.
(THE SUN sits in the spare chair and crosses his legs.)
SUN: Right, that's why I'm here. You and your papers. I used to have worshipers, you know? I mean, they would sacrifice people to me, live human beings, you know? Now everyone thinks I'm just a big gasbag, no personality. And I gotta say, I blame you and your, you know, colleagues.
SCIENTIST: Mr. -- Sun? Apollo?
SUN: I don't care, I'll answer to anything.
SCIENTIST: The scientific method is quite rigorous. We have to go where the evidence leads. Anthropomorphizing the data is, well, sloppy thinking. Primitive, even.
SUN: I'm not a data, man --
SCIENTIST: Datum.
SUN: I'M A BLESSED GOD!
(standing)
SCIENTIST: But a god is not a scientific hypothesis. You see my problem.
SUN: You wanna good paper, man, I can tell you things about me... You have no idea! Secret things. Things even the ancients didn't know. Right from the source, dude!
SCIENTIST: The anecdotal is useless. It can't be replicated. Now, if you don't mind... (glances at his computer)
SUN: I see. You sure, man?
SCIENTIST: If you care to make an appointment, I'd be glad to talk to you, but just now I don't have the time.
SUN: Awright. Have it your way.
(shrugging)
(The SUN raises his arms. The stage goes dark.)
SCIENTIST: Is this darkness your doing? ... Mr. Sun? ... Apollo? ...My lord?
