Play Writing

Yesterday  I took part in a play-writing workshop led by Vicki Cheatwood at the MAC.  (The McKinney Avenue Contemporary, for those of you who haven't yet visited its art galleries or theatrical performances.  Whatcha waiting for?)

This was my first writing workshop.

I've been part of writers' groups before, including the Dallas Screenwriters' Association - a great group, truly helpful and welcoming, with good speakers and resources.  (Alas, I decided I'd never develop a thick enough skin for the movie biz.)  But yesterday was my first time actually writing in the same room with other writers.  Fun.  Educational.  Oddly comforting to see others trying to do similar things.  Vicki's voice-of-experience was useful.  She had good advice especially on the utility of using writing prompts which, till now, I'd always ignored just like the questions at the back of the chapter - you know the ones.

Vicki gave us a series of suggestions to kick-start short writing exercises.  My favorite was probably the one where each of us wrote a sentence about ourselves; from these sentences, we each chose someone else's to spark a monologue.  (I'll stick my result on at the end of this post in case you're curious.)

Writing from any (fairly random) suggestion gets the creative brain in gear.  By the time I left I was bubbling with ideas!  As soon as I got home I had to sit at my desk.

Mind you, what I actually created there was drawing and architecture, rather than progress on The Big Writing Project...

Believed public domain image.  If it's yours, please let me know!

But that's a personal problem.

There are more play-writing sessions coming up - join in!  Info HERE.  My best-of-session writing?  (Please keep in mind, this was written quickly and I'm not tidying it up.) (Much.)

Monologue:  

143, 144... Boring, boring. Boring. Copying. What's the copier say? 147, 148... Of 300. And that's just the fourth page. Of 25. Oh what a...

No. Not boring. Glorious. Outside this soulless white(ish) copy room it is a glorious spring morning. Wouldn't you think there could be a window in here? But no... 

Yet it is a wonderful morning.

(Begins to sing.)"Oh!What a wonderful morning!

Oh! What a wonderful day!

I've got a wonderful feeeeeling...  

(Begins to dance.) Everything's going my..."

Shit. Hi, Steve. Sure. You can run your copies. 

297, 298, 299, 300.

I talk to myself and sing and dance in the copy room... and I'm usually interrupted.*

*Thanks to the anonymous fellow workshop attendee who wrote this sentence.  I had fun with it.  If I knew who you were, I'd gratefully credit you.  Thanks also to the organizers of this workshop and its leader!