Restless and Happy

Paint My Eyes
by Jamie Erekson
directed by George D. Nelson
BYU
November 22, 2014

I count it an excellent day at the theater when I leave feeling restless.  In this case, my brain was so restless that I didn't even mind getting caught in the post-football-game traffic because it gave me time to think rather than drive.  I was excited about the piece but also excited about what I'm currently writing and excited to be even a very small part of the process of developing a new piece.  How I miss giving feedback on plays!  How I have missed the collaborative environment of the theater!

The piece was a new musical by Jamie Erekson called Paint My Eyes.  By the time you read this it will have closed but hopefully you will get to see the next incarnation.  One thing I loved about this piece was that it fit into an aesthetic that I try to cultivate in my own work.  It came from a distinctly faithful viewpoint and could be considered faith promoting but it also comes from a place of complexity and depth.  The feel-good moments are hard won and do not diminish the harsh realities.  The beautiful moments were earned by both the characters and the audience and so they were more dear.  This was brought home forcefully by the highly emotional response of one audience member during the talkback session afterwards.  We had trusted the playwright/composer to take us on a journey and, though the journey was difficult, our trust was not misplaced.

The piece explores the experiences of two missionaries against a backdrop of dreams (especially Lehi's dream) and memories.  As we put together the puzzle pieces of Elder Garn's last few months in the mission field our eyes are opened to his struggles and the struggles of those around him.  The deep wounds of the German people are sympathetically wrought and contrasted to the deep wounds in the central storyline.  A depth of emotion is established so that when the revelation of the central wound is finally realized, our hearts are ready.  We see it in context and it lands. Hard.

The humor in the story also serves to further this goal.  Elder Garn's companion is a comic foil for much of the story, constantly calling himself out for his faults (such as perpetual lying) and spectacularly ruining missionary opportunities with hilarious missteps.  This makes the audience listen all the more when he steps into the role of truth teller and facilitates the feeling of redemption at the end of the piece.

The music, too, brought home the themes of the piece.  Difficult and haunting, the music embodied the emotional undercurrent of the play.  My memory of the music is not of specific tunes but of how it seized my heart.  In fact, the music was so fused to the scene that the two can't be separated in my head, which is where the piece will be for a long while--swirling around my brain, making me smile, because being in a theater and wearing the hat of "collaborator" feeds my start and makes my heart happy.

Assigned Seating: A Free Verse Prose-y Poem

Assigned Seating

“Every year they ask for suggestions and every year I make the same one: assigned seating.”

This was the topic of conversation among the survivors of the war-torn auditorium for Time Out for Women.

Bonded by shared suffering, those who had escaped trampling, hand-to-hand combat, and general cattiness settled in for a full day of uplifting religious speakers and performance artists with their nearest and dearest female friends and family.

What a way to set the tone for the day!

Maybe the organizers hadn’t noticed that the seats are numbered and people tend to buy tickets in a block anyhow?

Maybe they don’t realize how bad it is in the trenches?

Where good, Christian women rip reserved signs off chairs without remorse or make their own look-alike signs to sneak in the night before?

Where the mad dash from the long wait on the cold hallway floor makes Black Friday look like a church picnic?

It’s every woman for herself out there and so no hard won ground will be yielded.

But assigned seating would fix all of that.

Yes, assigned seating is the answer.

I wonder how many of these same women attended the first-come-first-served seating event the very next day?

Where all baptized members of the church in the entire state of Utah were invited to gather with their nearest and dearest friends and family for spiritual uplift in the temple and packed meetinghouses across the state, preceded by orderly and loving assembly?

No assigned seating required.

Is it writing or is it just writing related?

My mentor in grad school used to say all the time that "only writing is writing."  It's very easy to throw yourself into writing-related activities and feel like you are writing because you're feeding part of your creative side.  Writing-related activities are necessary and valuable but they should never crowd out real writing.  The hard part is finding the balance between activities that stimulate your writing and activities that are a well-intentioned time suck.  (I tell myself that this is why I am an irregular blogger--avoiding the time suck).

Coming from a culture of "if you see a job it's yours," I'm constantly fighting this battle.  I take on more projects than I could possibly complete and feel the need to make everyone around me happy.  It's Relief Society Sister Syndrome :)  Dallin H. Oaks' "Good, Better, Best" talk helped a lot, but it's still a daily battle.  I honestly want to do it all and periodically realize how ridiculous that sentiment is.  Some people (myself included) say they wish they were more naturally "selfish" so this would come easier but I think the adjective we're looking for is "realistic."  I wish I was more naturally realistic about my own capacities.  I wish my actions were more consistently in line with my priorities. 

Another time suck of mine is reading self-help books and when my latest book started quoting other books I've read I realized that there is no time management magic bullet.  The basic idea in all of them is to figure out what's important to you and then do it.  So....writing is important to me.  I'm doing that.  Other creative non-writing things will happen as they happen.  I've made some big changes in the time I have allotted to the creative non-writing things in my life and if you're wondering why, this is why.  Maybe I cut some things that I shouldn't have, but it feels good to at least start doing this.  I'm sure I'll get better as time goes on!

Still Percolating

Because this blog is about maintaining the creative spark that makes writing possible, it seems like I really ought to write about the first of hopefully many, many open mics in Provo.  This won't be a long post, though, because it's all still percolating in my brain.  It takes a certain distance to be able to make all the connections in a way that is totally satisfying.  But, for the sake of my 3 faithful readers, I'll try.

Performance Poetry in Provo is meant to be.  That's the only thing that can explain how easily everything fell together, just at the point where I was thinking, "This is insane.  I don't have the time or energy to do all of this!"  But the perfect venue fell into place and everywhere I turned there were people who were excited and supportive.  There seems to be a widespread desire for this sort of avenue for creative expression.  All that was necessary was to draw those threads together (or, as I told a friend of mine, they just needed a mom to step in and get things done).  Admittedly, my desire for an open mic night was about my own need for a community and an outlet (see previous blog post  "Why Does Utah County Need a Creative Writing Open Mic Night?").  Running an open mic, though, is more about the community than personal needs/desires.  This is why anyone who wants to be part of helping this community grow is more than welcome to join us.  This can be as simple as showing up regularly or as complex as volunteering to help with administrative duties.  I have found performance poets to be generous, giving people and that's what I envision this community being.  I'm excited to get to know you and to grow with you. 

Write A LOT of cruddy stuff: a conversation with three playwrights

I happened upon a panel discussion at the Orem library tonight that featured Eric Samuelsen, Melissa Leilani Larson, and Wendy Gorley.  Well, that makes it sound as if I was wandering the stacks and heard them talking.  In actuality, this morning Eric posted about remembering that he was doing something tonight and forgetting what it was.  When the mystery was solved I realized that I had nothing going on tonight and could ask my live-in babysitters to get the kids ready for bed while I ran off to the library.  Hooray!  It seemed like just the kick-in-the-pants I needed, playwriting-wise, and that’s what it ended up being.

It was a pretty intimate little gathering where the playwrights told fun stories about their experiences writing and producing plays.  Words of wisdom were offered.  Questions were answered.  A giant chocolate cake came into play at one point.  And I ended up looking like a dork, which I learned from the playwrights is something I should embrace. 

They made lots of good points, but the one that stuck with me (because it hit the closest to home) is that you should embrace failure, not fear looking stupid, and write lots and lots of cruddy stuff (so that you can have something to revise and revise into something better).  In the spirit of that sentiment, when I heard someone introduced to another person as a poet I took the next possible moment to introduce myself to him and to pitch my open mic to him.  He looked somewhat perplexed, mostly bemused, and talked with me about BYU (I graduated shortly after he began teaching there).  Then, later, I heard two of the playwrights talking in amazement about having this amazing BYU poet in attendance and how in awe they were of him.  Yes, I had pitched my budding performance poetry venue to one of the preeminent LDS poets, who very well might be the sort of poet who thinks that slam poetry isn’t actually poetry, who certainly doesn’t have a huge desire to hear a poem about the importance of tampons or the horrors of too tiny bikinis.  I kind-of wanted to sink into a crack in the floor. 

But then I embraced my dorkiness.  Because, you know what?  That sentence up there makes a whole lot of assumptions about a person I actually don’t know at all.  Tie-clad BYU professors that students worship may very well be closet performance poets.  You never know.  And part of my mission with this creative writing open mic is to draw in a segment of the writing population that isn’t already in the slam poetry scene.  That would be this poet for sure.  Definitely following up the dorky encounter with a professional but dorky email.

The other thing that made me feel dorky in a positive way is the restlessness that this discussion made me feel about one of my major goals with moving up to Utah County.  I had lost my theater community and I wanted that back.  In the past few years I have stoked the fires of my writing with poetry but haven’t really gotten back on the playwriting horse.  My hope with this move is that I can establish a new artistic community up here.  I don’t know how that will play out.  I don’t know who will be involved in that long-term.  I do know, however, that it takes time to establish those connections and friendships.  And it takes time to get back on that horse.  So maybe it’s a good thing that I won’t have live-in babysitters for much longer because what I most need right now, as I am establishing the community part of the dream, is to establish the art part of the scene.  Instead of dashing off to a fun panel discussion to get a kick in my playwriting pants, I need to spend an hour at home writing.  I need to give myself my own kick in the pants.  Because I’m a dork and I embrace that.  And I’m going to write a ton of really crappy stuff, including introspective blogs, saccharine novels, ridiculous poems, and contrived plays.  Complete drivel.  Look forward to it, Utah County.

Real Live Mormon Women

3
by Eric Samuelsen
March 29, 2014
Plan B Theatre, Salt Lake City UT

When a character in a play speaks a truth plucked from your own heart that no one understands, you begin to wonder if people will really understand the play.  You wonder if people will get it or if they will walk away feeling like all of their prejudices have been confirmed.  The play is Eric Samuelsen's 3 and I fear the likelihood is high that the outcome will be the latter.

3 is a series of short pieces about Mormon women and in many ways it is uncanny how Eric, who to my knowledge has never been a Mormon woman, captures some of the struggles faced by Mormon women.  One thing he fails to capture, though, are any of the triumphs.  Sure, Kel (in the first piece, Bar and Kel) does end up having a personal relationship with her visiting teaching "project" and comes to recognize what is wrong with Bar's approach to service, but she still plays the part of Bar's faithful #2 to the end.  Bar herself is a woman we are all familiar with, but she becomes a caricature of the pushy Relief Society sister.  We all got to pat ourselves on the back for being so much more enlightened than she was because we never saw her humanity.  We never really understood her.  People are rarely so simple and completely awful in their motivations.

Even so, I looked at her and felt mortified again for every visiting teaching fumble I've ever committed.  I thought, "Is that how people see me?": the less active sister who called the Bishop to complain I was stalking her when I left two messages on her cell phone in a 4 week period, the sister who wanted to get her GED but didn't want to study, any little slice of my life where people who have already made their minds up about the Mormons could point and say, "See!  They're pushy!  They only care about their own agenda.  All they think about is appearances...I was right."  Ok.  So maybe you are right sometimes.  But there are so many more times when you are wrong.

The second piece, Community Standard, was heartbreaking in its veracity.  You could tell that Janeal's monologue struck a cord in the audience when she asked a rhetorical question and a woman in the audience called out the answer ("Did he ever listen?" "NO!").  Struggling with how the power dynamic in pornography played out in her own life, I loved how this was manifest in recurring dreams of being on the Titanic and "girl porn," where the main character doesn't get an unrealistic sexual response but, instead, a sensitive male response that doesn't align with her reality.  For all of its nuances, though (her journey of self-realization was striking), it still felt like a moment where someone could say "See!  I was right about them."  As a playwright I recognize that you can't tell all stories at once.  The fact that not all Mormon marriages have this dynamic does not negate the fact that some marriages do.  But acknowledging in such a powerful way that some Mormon marriages do have this dynamic while sitting in a theater in Salt Lake City (a town that feels like Ground Zero for Entrenched Anti-Mormons) made me, as a faithful LDS woman, feel way too vulnerable.  I acknowledge both sides of the coin on this topic and my harshest critics--I say my critics instead of "critics of the church" because attacking my religion is attacking my core--my harshest critics seem to only acknowledge one side of the coin.  I don't think anyone wants to pull back a bandage to show the wounds of their culture while people are standing around ready to poke it with a sharp stick.  I recognize that I may be being too sensitive here.  I blame it on one too many pokes with a sharp stick.

The third piece, Duet, is the one that resonated the most with me, at first because of my many years as Ward Music Chairperson and then because of the beautifully sympathetic portrayal of Sondra, a woman who finds herself in an impossible situation (one that I've never been in, but that I can deeply sympathize with).  Using singing as a metaphor for emotional intimacy, the piece explores how we support each other and how we let each other down.  Sondra's story unfolds as a series of contrasts: beauty they can't keep their eyes off/ugliness they can't bring themselves to look at, perfection/imperfection, harmony/disharmony, acceptance/rejection.  Sondra appears to reject the choir sisters when, in fact, she is dealing with entirely different issues.  This should soften the rejection of Sondra at the end because we have seen that surface appearances don't even come close to telling the whole story, but it doesn't.  What I most wanted here was for one moment in the play to expose some beauty rather than some more awfulness.  Could the "typical" Relief Society sister not have gone to her friend in the end?  Did she have to walk away?  I know there are people who walk away, but there have been so many times that I have seen sisters not walk away.  Could that sister have a voice in this play too?  Could the other side of the argument have a "See!  I was right!" moment too?

Perhaps I misspoke when I wondered whether or not people would understand this play.  I really wonder if people understand that the spectrum of human experience applies to the Mormon experience too and that looking at one end of the spectrum doesn't invalidate the other end.  Perhaps I'm misunderstanding the play, though.  Perhaps I'm not getting it.  Perhaps my assumption of sympathetic understanding is entirely off base.  Perhaps if I said to my friend Eric that "I would give anything to sing with that man for the rest of my life" he would feel only kind-hearted pity and thank his lucky stars that he isn't as misguided as I am.  I hope not.

Why Does Utah County Need a Creative Writing Open Mic?

The easiest answer to that question is that I'm in Utah County and I need an Open Mic.  I need that feeling of community.  I need that energy.  I need to come out of my dark writing cave and have regular positive feedback.  I need to know and be inspired by the other writers here.  I need to hear opinions I disagree with (and opinions I didn't know I agreed with!).  I need the adrenalin.  I need the applause.  I need a regular night off from being Super Mom.  I need this community and I think there are others who do too.  Raise of hands?

Perhaps you haven't raised your hand yet because you don't know exactly what I'm talking about.  I'm talking about a weekly gathering devoted entirely to sharing creative writing.  This would be equal parts community building and writer building--a safe place for new writers to take tentative steps or not-new writers to try out an unfamiliar genre and a comfortable place for seasoned writers to share new work or practice new pieces (or old pieces).  Any form of creative writing is welcome (time limit: 7 minutes) and all writers are heard and celebrated.  No formal critique is offered (though if you ask me beforehand I could give you some brief feedback afterwards).  No judging occurs.  Pieces can be memorized, read from a notebook, read from an iPhone, read from the back of your hand--anything goes.  This gathering would also be uncensored.  I know that's controversial in this area and I worry that some people translate that to mean "this gathering will be offensive."  That's not necessarily what will happen on any given night (we do ask everyone to play nicely!), but, yes, no matter where you land on the spectrum of beliefs (religious, political, whatever) you may hear something you ardently disagree with and/or find offensive.  It's the nature of the beast.  You have to trust your fellow writers to not take you down those paths lightly and you have to value free speech above maintaining your own comfort level.  I'm a pretty conservative writer.  I don't swear.  I don't write erotica.  I don't go off on political rants.  I have a really funny piece that uses the word "breast" in it, though, and when I went to an open mic that started with an injunction to only read "rated-PG" pieces I had a moment of panic.  Was this piece PG-13?  Was I going to be shunned if I read it in this setting?

I'm a rule follower.  I will never take two donuts if the sign says "Take One."  It really doesn't take much to reign me in.  In fact, I'm such a good rule follower that I don't require explicit rules.  The barest hint of a rule is enough to restrain me.  A satin ribbon is as effective as a chain link fence in my world.  This is why when it comes to my own writing, I am my greatest source of oppressive censorship.  I feel too strongly the aesthetics of everyone around me.  If life is a landscape shaped by judgement calls then my curse is having a map that shows them all.  It's not that I don't understand or value the need to make judgement calls or to draw certain lines.  It's just that I don't feel comfortable drawing the line for other people because I feel like so many people draw the line for me (whether they realize it or not) and I'm trying to figure out the lines for myself.  Even people who value boundaries need a place where the only boundaries are the ones they fashion for themselves.  Poetry is a place where you can speak the unspeakable truths.  Take it from a devoutly rated-PG woman: that isn't always PG.  It is, however, worth it.

If you are interested in making this idea a reality in Utah County, please leave a comment or follow this blog for more information on upcoming open mic events.  Information will also be posted on the Speak For Yourself page on Facebook.  We have a trial run as a weekly event at Guru's Cafe at 45 East Center in Provo for the first three Thursdays in May so I hope that you will all raise your hands by coming.  Bring your work or just support the writers in this area with your presence (and applause!).  May 1, 8, and 15 at 7 pm is when you can raise your hand to support creative writing in Utah County.  See you then!

Clearing Bombs

Clearing Bombs by Eric Samuelsen
World Premiere at Plan-B Theatre Company
February 22, 2014

Perhaps the worst time to watch a play that consists of two economists arguing about the larger economic picture is when you are about to make a major, life-changing decision in your own personal economics.  That’s what I did, though, because when I bought the tickets I had no idea that’s what last Saturday would be for me.  I wasn’t about to give up my chance to see an Eric Samuelsen world premiere, though, so I told the respective parties that they would have to give me a couple more hours to let the idea percolate and headed off to the theatre to let two famous economists sit on either shoulder and give me the pros and cons of making what Keynes referred to as the “inspired madness” of personal investment.

I should let you all know that I’m not the sort of person who seeks out these sorts of discussions in my own life.  I get overwhelmed by the political back and forth.  I feel ignorant.  I rely on emotional arguments that are easily refuted.  I feel like people are talking circles around me.  I am, essentially, the modern equivalent of the Everyman figure in the show, Mr. Bowles (Kirt Bateman).  I do feel a nagging obligation to be less ignorant, though, which is why I like listening to other people discuss stuff like this, as long as I’m not required to defend my thoughts/opinions and as long as they don’t talk over my head.  I like to think I’m not alone in that, which is why I feel comfortable admitting to it.  This is also why the structure of the show worked so well for me.  The two economists spent their time trying to win the heart and mind of the Everyman and, hey, that’s me.

The first thing that I started tracking in the show was the visual element.  I immediately saw the downward trend of a graph in the line of the roof (well done, set designer Randy Rasmussen!).  I also loved the contrast between the two men (Keynes, played by Mark Fossen, and Hayek, played by Jay Perry).  Hayek was short; Keynes was tall.  Hayek wore a black suit and black shoes; Keynes wore a navy blue suit and brown shoes.  Hayek had a white collar; Keynes had a striped collar.  Hayek’s suit felt more formal with a more formal style vest; Keynes had the comfortable suit of a rumpled professor and a less formal style vest (yes, I'm also a fan of costume designer Phillip R. Lowe's work).  The men were also contrasted in their temperament and approach to the stressful situation they were in.  Hayek was frightened; Keynes was laid back.  Both were startled at some points but Hayek reacted physically while Keynes showed his fear more in his face.  Also, Hayek was writing a book whereas Keynes had written a book.  Hayek was married; Keynes was single.  Every element in the play set these two at odds, which made it both startling and delightful whenever they weren’t at odds.

The personal relationship between the two men was as interesting to track as their ongoing battle to sway the Everyman (ok, more so because I’m far more interested in personal relationships).  That journey, as well as the immediacy of the dangerous situation they were in, made sure this play never became a Talking Heads play.  I can’t decide if the play was attempting to be even handed with an ambiguous ending, though, or if the way that it favored Keynes was intentional.  After all, Hayek was operating from a position of fear.  He hyperventilated every time a siren sounded.  Keynes came off as a much stronger character.  Mr. Bowles most often sided with Keynes as well and had many more harsh words for Hayek.  When Keynes asks at the end of the play who won the argument, Mr. Bowles does not reply but it is clear that Keynes won more of his heart that Hayek did (his resolve to vote Labor from here on out notwithstanding).  I did like the final image, though, of all three men being required for the task at hand: spread out on the rooftop, separate but necessary in their own way.  All hands on deck required to clear the bombs of our society, the passionate arguments just an idle thing to be dropped when life suddenly gets very real.

Of course, maybe I saw it as a win for Keynes because the man directly in front of me was very vocal in his support of Keynes throughout (very loud “mmmHMM”s and “yes!”es) and started his “Bravo”s before the lights went down on the stage.  And maybe I saw it that way because I ended up taking a Keynesian leap of faith in my own economic sphere.  Or maybe it’s because I hope that if I fall on my face after that leap that I’ll have Keynes’ compassionate approach to pick me up (since I find Hayek’s self-correction less than pleasant to live through).  I liked this play.  It made me think, even if I was thinking all the time through the lens of my own personal dilemma.  Don’t we all look at the national economy through our own checkbook, though?  And don’t we all see the virtues of both sides of the argument and then ditch them both in favor of action?  Or is that just us ignorant Everyman figures?

Lessons Learned From the Chinese Acrobats

Golden Dragon Chinese Acrobats
BYU
February 8, 2014

1.  Any outfit can be enhanced by glow-in-the-dark neon.

2.  Never let them see you prep.

3.  When teaching modesty lessons always include a lesson on tolerance and/or common courtesy so you don't hear your 5 year old's voice ring out in the silence with "Is that ALL they're going to wear???"

4.  When you don't pack your bag with things to quietly entertain children one will, without precedent, fail to be engaged by the glittering, neon-clad group of people doing amazing things right before their very eyes.

5.  Windsprints during intermission can help with #4.

6.  Sometimes having the big guys standing there ready to catch you makes the trick look extra dangerous but mostly it just takes away from the coolness of the thing you are doing.

7.  Don't point right if the people are coming in from the left.

8.  Don't ask the audience if they want one more if you didn't mean one more chair on the giant chair stack.*

9.  Always rock the exit.  Keep your head and arms held high!**

10. No matter how amazing you are, people will always find something to gripe about.

*We had just spent an inordinate amount of time watching him add just one more chair when it seemed impossible to add another chair so when he asked, "Do you want one more?" I thought it was a natural assumption that he meant one more chair.  He coaxed more and more applause out of the audience in support of "one more" and then....no chair!  Later I realized he must have meant one more balancing pose.  I'm going to blame this on the language barrier.

**Am I the only one who stops watching where they are directing your attention and sees if the ones we aren't focusing on have dropped their focus?  I loved how these guys never dropped their arms in view of the audience.  Way to commit to the exit!

Salt City Slam

Salt City Slam
Sam Weller Books
January 27, 2014

We got off to a bit of a rocky start because we showed up at the wrong venue.  Apparently Sam Weller bookstore had moved to Trolley Square several years ago.  Yes, years.  If I had given more credence to the map on Facebook than the address on the KSL event page we would have been fine, but KSL had the date and Facebook was silent.  Alas, we made a poor choice and ended up missing the Open Mic portion of the evening.  This also resulted in an unfortunate chair-free experience for the evening.  My resourceful companions scrounged up a low bench to share, but we gazed enviously at the chairs with backs on them all night long.

I’ve been about 7 months removed from my beloved writing community in St George so I was a tiny bit giddy to once again be around people who loved to wrap themselves around words.  I will admit right off that I was nervous that I might be out of my depth and relieved to see that poets of all stripes were embraced and applauded.  After the Open Mic (we saw only the final performer, who was hilarious) there was a featured poet whose name I very unfortunately did not write down.  She traveled here from Seattle and used the most evocative images.  My favorite of her pieces was her final one that used the image of atoms to explore the idea of catalysts and change.  Her powerful plea for an electron (agent of change) to come to her still resonates in my mind.  Of course, my summary is completely butchering the piece.  Such are the hazards of reviewing a poetry reading.

It wasn’t until after both of these events that the slam began and by that time we were so tired that we almost went home.  The featured poet was so fabulous that we felt full of happy writing moments and the hour long drive home loomed large.  But this was an expedition to check out the local writing scene so we stayed and were not disappointed.  Several of the poets had pieces that really piqued my interest and made me want to be a part of this community.  My biggest problem is logistics, really.  I left my kids with my parents at 5:45 pm and didn’t return until nearly 1 am.  This may be do-able for people without kids, but for a single mom who generally works nights this is unsustainable over the long term.  This really did feed my start in a big way, though.  Hopefully I can find a way to have poetry in my life without 2+ hours of driving.  In the meantime, I’ll sneak up to Salt Lake whenever it is vaguely feasible.  (And St George too!  SLAM on February 14, 2014 at Jazzy’s on Bluff)