??

scene three.  ahhhhh scene three… the new bane of my existence. how the hell to start the damn thing. the overall intention is an overhaul intention. im going to save the good bits from the first version which is now a year old, roughly. ok its older….but hey. so im gonna save the good bits and add in new stuff. cut the slack. trim it up. an dtie it with a bow. but how to start. paul comes in the room. ok. mom starts talking about events important to her. ok. shes ignoring her diagnosis/prognosis and ignoring paul in way. its subtle. ok.  but then the scene it turns on its head into a really close personal convo between mother and son. nothing fate changing at this point, but just the first reveal of whats coming later. and of how close they are. the core of the play is of course their complicated relationship. not just a facebook status. sounds easy right? actually it doesnt cuz it isnt.

p.s. when will facebook crawl into a corner and die. i need to delete my profile first. why is that so hard? why has facebook convinced me that if i do this i wont be able to get in touch with people i never see? does that even make sense…? im not in touch with them anyway, for starters…

but let me get to it.

love

odie mama.

odie did not certify this horrible short and misspelled blog.. hes busy playing with his elastic band toy.

beatri (x) (ce)?

top of the morning to you! my hair looks like mozarts wig. after the concert. thats what  happens when you have super duper curls and take a shower right before bed. instant dreadlocks. its not the 60’s so i didnt do an updo or some hair cap contraption to prevent this.  i just let the afro flow upon the pillow. all night.  today itll take me 30 minutes to comb out the dreads. before they set for real.

all the same im glad i didnt use that toxic hair straightening treatment i mentioned not using before. though the plus of that being you dont have to worry much about combing your hair straight when youre bald. the only plus.

its a hell of a morning for my brain as well. it feels like scrambled eggs, mess hall style. the uncooked, semi-runny kind that just slip out of the serving spoon and slop down on your buffet tray and ooze. (my favorite kind :). my IQs down an additional 50 points at least. how many points does that leave me with? this ny municipal tap is killing my cells…so’s the chinese food diet. but it tastes so good.

moving on and trying to make sense with whats left:  ive made good progress with the play. scene two is done. the core. theres a smaller end ing scene i think id like to included, even if it gets cut out in the final version… its too funny not to give it a try at inclusion. and  its the first time the mom comes under pressure to reveal something truly personal about herself, which shes always reluctant to do. its amazing to see her dodge and dance the hammer.

the first scene also has a denoument and then another exciting cataclysmic conflict build before it ends. just like scene deux. i wonder if the audience will like this style that im writing in or if theyll feel like the scenes are overlong. overlong play scenes = boredome=death of a playwright. fuck the salesman.

did anyone else find that play, the most admired play in the world, to be a sad depressing one way journey into the land of caca. sure it was great writing character reveal etc., but what a sad depressingly hopeless story. about a character with no character arc. about unimitigated failure. i need my characters to want to live. to recognize mistakes. to want to get better. to apologize. and maybe even kick some major ass along the way.  i cant sit for two hours and see someone go straight downhill. thats so 1950.

lets return to 2012. which is looking like 2013 at the rate im writing…

ive also plugged the plot hole with nunez’s saint name. i think its going to be beatrice but with an ‘x’ at the end. beatrice was dantes muse. beatrix,  is the nun version. the dante reference is important. shes the light out of his darkness of hell. nunez is the light for the mom in this same way. and beatrix fits the requirements of being unusual. foreign. and a hard name to say which all plays perfectly into the name/nickname scene ive spent days crafting.

beatrice. beatrix.

there is a saint by the name beatrix. actually two? perhaps more. ive only dont light research so far. the first beatrix was roman and died approx 300 ad. she is not included in the traditional roman calendar of saints, but that doesnt mean shes not fit for  inclusion in the play. as tim gunn says. make it work. poor beatrix  was hanged for helping persecuted christians. the rope is her symbol.  the second beatrix is carthusian nun. died around 1820. known for her passion she impaled her left hand to understand christs pain.

these two historic nuns alone with the priceless dante reference makes the name perfect i think. of course the mom only knows about the dante beatrice at first. but that connection is the most important aspect of the name. “if the name fits you must awrit.”

did any of what i just wrote make sense? oh well. im leaving it. ive got to return to playville.

i have a feeling im going to need someone from the order to go over the details of this play to make sure its factually sound and somewhat plausible.

alright. gotta go.

its play time!

love,

odie mama.

and odie….hes off eating his new brand of cat food that he loves. so happy!

N.B. since its sci fi week i should tie this post in with a sci fi reference. and here it is. the name Beatrice was lifted from a passage in Hyperion. is this book not the stuff of my literary dreams or what?!!!

the challenge continues

grinding away at scene 2. the front has come together. and im now crafting the final version of the middle. and i know what the end should look like.  translation: im lost. in a labyrinth of playville. the minotaur  is on the lose.  and im typing like hell while forcing myself to ignore any voice of doubt. if i type fast enough maybe ill create some quick exit out of here. resurface and join the herd of shiny, happy people.  the traditional route to the finish this play would take me another year.

but i just had a great revelation. sure this play is taking  a long time. but theres so much real stuff going on beneath the waves. the characters are rich. fully rendered. emotional peple. the plot is highly involved. and the comedy is crafted with laser like precision.  the quick screenplay cranked = the crap we’re forced to watch on screen all year round. of course the crap movies out only took a few months and 8 writers to write.  because theyre caca..

so if my play takes 2 years of hard labor so be it. thats waht it is. as long as by the end im happy with it. my only real concern is that im not spending enough hard hours at the keys crafting it…

last concern. the bottom on this fucking laptop gets so hot i could fry bacon on the bottom of it. that bacon being the tops of my legs.  so ill just sweat away in my typers workshop. or type away in my workers sweatshop. question to dell computers: why in the hell would someone construct a laptop that gets so hot is sears flesh? does it give the ceo extra pleasure to know hes putting 120 degrees of hot metal near peoples groins? hes already stolen our money for the PCs.

alright kids. im going to go back to work now. and burning some flesh while sweating away some excess weight. who says writing isnt like exercise on the beach. they need a dell.

dear fellow bloggers, i hope your art stuff is going really well, your creativitiy has taken flight. and youve found the courage to transfer it to the physical realm of the real world. without too much hesitation.

love,

odie mama.

we interrupt your regular programming…

in lieu of a regular post/thought rant im going to share some more awesome pics. ive finally commited to finishing scene 2 of the play after massive reedits, detours, and episodes of dance moms. its so damn easy for me to find other priorities. like right now id love to write an editorial explaining why i like the  original show “dance moms” and why i dont think “miami dance moms” (the spin off) is any good. and my explanation is not what one might expect…. the plot line might be better but the chemistry isnt there. its that magic equation of why one real world episode was better than another….we can all agree that show went progressively down hil..

so yeah. thats what i mean. no blog for me today!! I need to go full force at the play and i cant stop now. ill be back with you tomorrow of course.

same odie time. same odie channel.

wish me luck!

love,

odie mama. and odie.

its aint easy..

apparently if you dont like the sensation of chewing on broken glass while standing on the precipice of a 90 story building you shouldnt write a screenplay. or a play. uh oh. arent plays the harder to write of the two? (please tell me no, since thats the direction my creative ship has been sailing in and theres no turning back now) . plays are all dialogue and  little action.  no cut scenes, time jumps, or cgi for the characters to hide behind. plays are subtle.. minute. well crafted.  sentences must carry all the weight. lines must be sculpted right down to the word. then there’s the requisite pauses. the air in the room you have to build. the mood that should permeate. the lighting…all must be conveyed with skilled hand. (i guess in this way playwriting is like screenwriting.)

great plays require a whirlwind of elements coming together and dancing on the head of a pin with exact precision. they require moods to ebb and flow with natural cadence, and  neck jerking countermovements to snap the viewer from any familiar lulls.

so if screenwriting is like being tasked to gnaw off your own arm with baby teeth…then its safe to say that writing a play is like adding an additional 5 km to mnt everest’s peak. after your lungs have filled  with water. and youve run out of oxygen tanks.

dammit. iuts true. thats how i feel writing this thing.

i keep asking myself why did i feel the need to undertake this __venture of being a playwright. (keep the ad in a box for when play is done…) why do i have the endless yearn within to finish this. because the writing process ahs been so damned torturous.

i like to write though. dont i? sometimes i hav to check. yes. i think i do… i enjoy writing this blog. 90 percent of the time. but the play. i only enjoy writing that 20% of the time. its takes me 80% cruel effort to get the the goldmine of the 20%.  but once im there the output feels like heaven.( cue the cure song). the 20% is so fulfilling for me its like taking a big hit of some drug ive never had…yeah. its that good and satisfying to know ive written great dialogue. but its just so damned hard to get to..why?

why does the other 80% blow?

but it must be waded through. the play must be done.  despite the fact my dedication to the matter has waned.  i became preoccupied with other things. did some art. and ive been especially distracted with my exciting new idea for a full length feature film starring two bad asschicks with grenade launchers and flame throwers. (insert handguns and pockets knives instead)

alright..

im moving on. moving back to the grind. the play grinder. the mind grinder. the meat grinder. the brain grinder..the organ grinder… would be great right now to have a little kapuchin with a red vest on and a miniature fez to help me get the play done. but odie will have to do. and he doesnt do vests.. :)

love,

odie mama.