Yesterday I spent 4 wonderful hours in this amazing house in Bernal Heights filled with women theatre artists. It was fantastic! Why were we there? What were we doing?

Well, I'm going to write a 2amTheatre post answering both those questions, but I did want to just mention it here briefly on my own blog. A sort of teaser for the thought piece I'm working on for 2amTheatre.

We were there to discuss women in theatre. Discuss seasons that lack women playwrights. Discuss the need for more roles for women actors and more directing opportunities for women directors.

But we weren't just there to discuss. We were there to start a course of action. Because no theatre in this day and age should think it's acceptable that they just "couldn't find any good plays by women" to produce in their season. If you ask me, if you can't find them it's not because they aren't out there. It's because you're not really looking.

I understand. That's some tough medicine to swallow. No one wants to look in the mirror and see that they're falling short when it comes to equal representation. But isn't that what theatre does? It holds up a mirror so we can examine ourselves--the good, the bad and the possible future?

I had one crazy dream last night.

I was in this enormous theatre. And when I say enormous, I mean large enough to house an ocean (or what was supposed to be an ocean) for its production. I wasn't me at first. I was someone else, but still a playwright. The playwright, as in my play was about to be performed.

I tore some of the material from my dress and wrapped a stone, something that had engravings on it, in the fabric and threw it into the theatre's ocean. And then I went to find my seat.

That's when I was me. Looking for a seat. And I found one, but not after wending and winding through all sorts of passageways, hallways, down stairs, through crowds of people all looking to find their seat. But I had to go find the front entrance because that is where my best friend was.

After finding her I couldn't remember where my seat was and I wanted to get back there. I had left someone there waiting for me.

So my best friend and I literally consulted a map and the theatre on paper was like several circles sorta like this, but the routes to and from the different seating section were a bit like a maze.

We were trying to find out seats because it was my play that was going to be performed, Heart Shaped Nebula.

We eventually found our seats and before I could dream up what the reviews were my imagination decided to take me somewhere kinda dark and I was back in my place trying to fend off those little furballs from Critters.

Not a fun way to end an interesting dream. At all.

-M

And as my morning mind often is a swirl of ideas during my commute, I suddenly recalled a movie from my childhood (and I had the pleasure of growing up during the 80s which is rife with amazing movies for kids that don't pander or dumb down their stories). I thought of The Neverending Story. Of Atreyu and Artax in the Swamps of Sadness. How Artax gives up. How he gives in to his sadness and sinks down. And there's nothing Atreyu can do to stop his dearest friend or save him.

This all sounds like a lot of cheese, I know. But I grew up in the 80s, so I have a special affinity for cheesy movies--especially ones with a lot of heart and lessons that can serve you well into your adult life.

So here's the lesson, boys and girls.You can't give up. You have to keep going. Or else you'll sink. You'll sink and disappear or sink and become completely jaded.

And perhaps you have to go into these swamps of sadness in order to come out the other end. Yes, you may lose something you love, but you'll gain something as well. Sometimes we have to travel our particular journeys to learn something valuable, something about ourselves.

Now does this mean I'm able to suddenly make a 180 turn from yesterday (or rather all week)?

No.

But it puts it in perspective better. And it reminds me that I don't want to lose my fairy-tale romance. And that like any relationship--it's work.

So...time to get back to work.

And thank you, Nick. Thank you, Ted.

-M

I'm not immune to it. No artist is, I think. That uncertainty that creeps in and weighs you down, makes you question everything--your worth, your path, whether or not you'll ever get where you're trying to go.

And you find yourself trying to give yourself pep talks, remembering there is a constellation of supporters out there. And while that metaphor offers some comfort, you remember just like constellations the heavenly bodies that make them up are often so far away from one another.

And you just keep telling yourself to stay the course. To keep your faith in tact. Even when someone else tells you they're so inspired by you, because hearing that makes you slightly uncomfortable as it all feels less glamorous than what's scribbled on the postcard that you send back home.

Sleep on it. Take a deep breath. Remember that focusing on the writing always lifts your spirits. And listen to music, even if the emotions it evokes dance between melancholy and uplifting.

Do you know that scene in Kill Bill Vol. 2 when The Bride is trapped in a coffin underground? We flash back to her training under Kung Fu master Pai Mei. We see her struggle, we see her broken and we see her overcome the physical demands of her training to become her master's star pupil.

And then we return to see The Bride facing the solid wood of her coffin and feet of dirt.

"Okay, Pai Mei. Here I come," she says as she begins punching. Punching. Punching with bloody knuckles until the wood fractures, breaks and she punches her way through climbing through the darkness, through the dirt to the surface, to freedom--alive.

Don't you wish you could play Eye of the Tiger and magically your New Dramatists application would be finished? That's what this playwright needs, a movie montage to get the work over with.

For better or worse, I'm not living in a movie from the 80s (though my 10 minute play about Jake Ryan might beg to differ). And as for music that I like to listen to while working on plays or applications. Well, they tend to differ. For playwriting I like something slightly more abstract so that I don't get distracted by the lyrics. Here's what I regularly listen to when writing lately.

Oh, and what's with today's post title? Well, I used to say "going underground" whenever a friend of mine would disappear because of school work (he was pre-Med for a while). So that's what's up with not blogging for a week, I've been underground a bit working on my New Dramatists application. It's almost finished. I have a feeling I'll be burning the midnight oil tonight (especially since I didn't have the foresight to realize scheduling a theatre outing this week was not a good idea).

So if you have any suggestions for inspirational music a la Eye of the Tiger. Send it my way.

I am currently working on my New Dramatist Artist Statement. This is my first time to apply, even though I've had people (playwrights and producers) telling me to apply for the past 5 years. But, since I only started playwriting 6 years ago, I decided to wait.

Around the time fellow Bay Area playwright Eugenie Chan was accepted to ND I ran into her at a play reading. While she and I were chatting I got a great bit of advice that framed how I decided to approach applying to ND. Eugenie explained that she didn't apply to ND until she felt ready to take advantage of their resources--meaning, ready to make trips to the East Coast regularly to take advantage of ND's resources.

I took that advice to heart in more ways than one. First, I decided I wasn't going to apply until I felt ready as a playwright, meaning my writing. After all, as a playwright who doesn't have an MFA and only began playwriting relatively recently I wanted to develop my craft, my voice. And second, I too wanted to be ready for the responsibility to managing a national residency.

I feel I've done that. Developed my craft I mean. In the past 6 years through various residencies and on my own I've learned how to manage my playwriting process: developed an annual work plan, took my networking from local to national thanks to Twitter, learned how to move multiple projects forward [read finish a play], honed my voice and grown as a writer.

So now I'm working on it. My statement explaining why I want to participate, how I'll take advantage of such an opportunity. I and so many other playwrights out there are writing our statements, hoping someone will take notice. Hoping the plays we submit with our application will intrigue and (let's be honest) impress.

Good luck to all.

Don't think that this is gonna be a morbid post. That's just what popped into my head for a post title and well, I like repetition and wordplay.

Besides, last night's read through of Wolf at the Door was anything but dead or dull.

But first, a recap.

Wolf at the Door is the second play (though technically I started it before The River Bride, however The River Bride is now at a production-ready draft) in my grimm Latino fairy tale series/cycle/trilogy (not sure if I'll stop at 3).

Here's a synopsis (a first draft of one):

Shortly after Isadora's stillborn baby is buried, the naked and very pregnant Yolot is found sleeping in the hay with the family's dogs. Isadora's abusive husband Septimo forces Yolot to stay on the property because his in-laws are coming soon and he needs a replacement baby. As a pack of wolves closes in on the property, Yolot's true identity is revealed and Isadora much decide what price she will pay for her own freedom.

And back to last night.

We started with dinner. Dinner is how I attempt, in my own small way, to compensate my actor friends for their time and talent. I made them a delicious meal (if I do say so myself): a Spanish tortilla. Quinoa, arugula, strawberry, goat cheese salad with olive oil, honey balsamic vinaigrette. TJ meatballs topped with pineapple. And this amazing truffle infused cheese paired with bread and prosciutto.

Yes, I know how to feed people.

And we ate. We ate and talked. Caught up. Laughed. And destroyed that cheese--gone, gone, gone.

Then came the read through. Now the purpose of the evening was 1) to get me to finish the first draft which was languishing in limbo for about a year with a gaping hole in it. (Note: I did fill that hole); 2) to hear the play aloud--I confirmed my instinct that the pacing is really fast (I want to slow it down) and caught a few typos in the process; and 3) to discussed the play afterward with the actors as a way for me to gather ideas on how to expand the play--what elements or characters could I delve deeper into with writing exercises.

I wrote copious notes. Copious. They're all scribbled on the back of my script (need to type those notes up) and the evening left me feeling energized by the ideas that surfaced. This is great. Momentum for this play--just what it needs. I'd like to get it to a new draft by say early October. Wouldn't that be great?

One of my perks was to have a song sung to me on YouTube, a song of my choice. While others requested they do covers (and by the way I love several of their covers including their rendition of I Left My Heart in San Francisco and What's Up--so much better than the original, in my opinion) I requested one of their own songs--my favorite so far.

Long story short, their album is finished and my YouTube serenade is up. Enjoy!

Yes, there's the classic Charles Isherwood's Yogurt Shop (which has been taken down because for the love of all that's holy I can't find it on Google...and that means it's really gone, gone and the only evidence I can find of its existence are a few blog posts mentioning it.).

Then there was the very amusing Stage Manager Ryan Gosling which took the "Hey Girl" meme and focused it (like a laser beam) for the theatre crowd (no, not the crowd sitting in the seats but the ones creating what gets up on stage).

But I love love love the WHATSHOULDWECALLPLAYWRIGHTS tumblr. I mean hand-over-mouth-to-stifle-uproarious-laughter love it.

I think it's the gifs. those endless loop pics and the hilarious post titles they're paired with that leave me in stitches. For example:

When Your Actor Crush Walks Into The Audition Room

And yes, it's exactly like that.

Check out the entire WhatShouldWeCallPlaywrights tumblr for more.