31 Plays Update: Mission Accomplished!

Well, the day has finally arrived – but not without a final bit of drama. My internet was totally busted last night; so I had no option but to finish my last two plays in Word. Fortunately I was able to get internet access for a few minutes this morning – to upload the text to my Google Drive. Then, when I got to the office, I was able to fix the formatting and get them uploaded.

 

For the record, the final plays were:

 

#27. “Kick her in the Mouth”

Inspired by my days volunteering in a nursing home – a rowdy bunch of nursing home residents attempt to stage a rebellion during a reading of “Jayne Eyre.” They may be mad women, but no attic for them!

#28. “Drive Time”

My last story cube play! A man thinks he’s stuck in traffic but comes to realize that he’s in hell – which happens to be a perpetual traffic jam in a car with a radio that won’t turn off and constantly blares the rantings of a political blowhard.

 

#29.”A Woman of Extraordinary Constitution”

This one goes out to Brooke Whitley – with whom I first discussed the idea of writing a book about Brandi St. Croix – and Matt Gurry – who has been a wonderful support throughout this process and asked that I make him a character in one of my 31 Plays. So this is the story of Matt, an intrepid young writer, traveling to D.C. to interview Brandi, a spoiled little rich girl who has decided her path to fame lies in writing a book detailing her adventures having sex in all the presidential libraries in the United States.

#30. “The Addicts”

It’s a classic “waiting for the man to come” play. Tweak and Buzz are plot how to deal with their friend Flip, who has left to score them some stuff – and how harshly they’re going to deal with him – depending on what he comes back with.

#31. “Now That’s Dedication!”

It’s the dedication of a new dorm by a very nervous Dean Snopes. Unfortunately for him, a punky young protester who shows up to decry the fact that the dorm was built because of a donation made to the school by a wealthy family trying to protect their son from charges that he raped a girl on campus.

And that’s all she (well, I) wrote! There will be more posts in the coming days and weeks – elaborating on the process of some of the plays I didn’t get to go into in detail and reflecting more thoroughly on how this process has changed me as a writer – and how I’m going to move forward from here.

But I did want to make sure to say thank you to Rachel Bublitz and Tracy Held Potter for putting this together. Theater has been a lifelong passion for me, but the years following college dealt many blows to my theatrical dreams. I watched friend and friend give up their ambitions to work in theater. I wrote plays that were never produced (or that I never could figure out where to send). I mounted productions that were well-received but never took me to the oft-hoped-for “next level.” And I mounted productions that were less-well-received that cost me money personally and required me to ask for lots of hard work from collaborators who believed in my dreams and whose hopes were dashed just as hard as my own.

After taking some time off from writing for the stage, I decided to work on a novel this year. It’s been quite a slog, but it’s been very restorative. Still – as I produced page after page of prose, I couldn’t help but hear the stage calling me back.

This was one of the most inconvenient months I possibly could have taken on a project like this. I had a crazy schedule at work. I had to travel across the country for a wedding. I didn’t have the time. But I made the time, and I made 31 plays, and I made myself – and I think many of the people who care about me and my work – proud.

And I sincerely hope that this is not the end of 31 Plays, but instead – 31 New Beginnings.

I wish you all beautiful surprises, peaceful rests and challenges that test your mettle and help you to succeed.

Sincerely,

Paul Hagen

@MisterPaulHagen

31 Plays: A Quick Update

One of my favorite parts of the 31 Plays in 31 Days experience has been taking some time to digest and share with you my process in creating each play – from little sparks of inspiration to how I wrestled out the twists and turns. But I came into this past weekend with less than a week to go and ten plays left to either transcribe (from the pad I’ve been scribbling in at lunch/on the subway/in free moments) or write from whole cloth. So I decided to suspend my long-formlogging (I hope to come back to it and give more insight into the final plays of the 31 when I’m done) in favor of actually completing the project.

That said, I am deeply appreciative of all who’ve checked in with me throughout this process and I wanted to let you know that I’m rounding the home stretch. Here’s what I managed to get uploaded since I blogged with you last:

#22. “Deaf As A…”

In which two concert violinists debate whether or not their conductor has gone deaf – in the middle of rehearsal!

#23. “The Fair Play”

In which TV News reporter Paula Poppinpepper covers the sabotage of a Ferris Wheel at the State Fair, while two teenagers trapped high above her attempt to finish consuming a bottle of vodka they secretly brought aboard and try to resist the urge to pee. (The grand finale of this one is GOLDEN.)

#24. Brief Quiet Butterfly

In which I boil down the plot and characters of Madama Butterfly to a play that is only movement and sound – no words. There is, however, a significant amount of paint.

#25. Faster

Finally a play in rhymed verse! This one is about a couple of lesbians, one of whom is freaking out in the final hours of a fast; the other who is patiently trying to put up with her mania.

#26. Diagnosis College

While stuck in traffic going over the Golden Gate Bridge, one of Andrea’s bridesmaids mentioned a situation in which every time she went to her college clinic – no matter what her complaint – they tried to offer her birth control. I took this idea to (hopefully) hilarious extremes.

That leaves me with four more days (I’m guessing we have ’til Friday at midnight) to finish five more plays. WILL I MAKE IT? Stay tuned to find out…

31 Plays #21: He’s Coming Home

Well, it’s not CRAZY short but it’s definitely the shortest yet. So I think I’m just gonna post this one. Ladies and Gentlemen, “He’s Coming Home.”
HE’S COMING HOME
A Play by Paul Hagen

We see a beautifully-furnished, middle-class living room. KARA stands, anxiously staring out a window as snow falls. Her cat LUCKY mews from the couch on the other side of the stage. She crosses to pick him up.

KARA

Oh, do you want Mommy’s attention, little Luckypants? Do you? Do you?

She settles onto the couch, trying to concentrate on LUCKY but the window keeps dragging her gaze back to it. She tries to turn her attention back to the cat.

KARA

I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted today. It’s just… This weather… This time of year… It’s like I’m always braced for the next emergency. Every time the phone rings, I get this feeling deep in my bones that it’s going to be bad news.

LUCKY mews at KARA.

KARA

I know, baby. I know. Mommy used to be a lot more fun. She didn’t used to stare out the window and worry about Daddy so much. It was so much easier when we were younger, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it, Lucky? It was so easy to trust that when the sun went down, it was going to come up again tomorrow. It was so easy to trust that Daddy would get home safe. We used to trust everything, didn’t we? I would be out of work and just trust that another job would come along. Were we ever that young, little man? Or did we just imagine it?

KARA sadly cuddles LUCKY to her.

KARA

But, you know what? We’re not going to be sad tonight. We’re gonna figure out how to trust again, aren’t we buddy? Like Mommy used to do when you were just a little kitten. Do you remember that? And the first thing we are going to do is stop staring out the window and thinking about your Daddy. We are gonna be strong, like when we used to automatically trust that Daddy was going to come home. Because that’s what people do. They leave the house in the morning and then they come home at night. And we used to trust that.

KARA takes a deep breath and forces herself to turn her back completely to the window.

KARA

There. I feel better already. It’s like I’m normal, isn’t it, Luckypants? Isn’t it? Normal people don’t need to stare out the window when someone they love is a few minutes late. Oh, no, they don’t. They just go on about their business until whomever they are waiting for shows up — even if it’s raining, even if there’s thunder and lightning, even if it’s snowing, even if it’s a total white-out blizzard.

(she pauses)

Well, I guess exceptions have to be made for a blizzard…

KARA gets up, still holding LUCKY, and walks a few steps toward the window, but then turns around again.

KARA

No. You know what I need, Lucky. What I need is a project. People who have goals don’t just sit around wondering if the sun is going to come up tomorrow. They’re too busy worrying about whether they’re going to accomplish their goals. Maybe if I set myself some sort of deadline, I wouldn’t look at the clock anymore and think about how slow it’s moving, how little time has passed. I’d think, “Oh, that clock is moving so quickly! How will I ever get all of this done in time?!” Don’t you think that’s how people with projects think, baby? Don’t you?

KARA’s eyes wander toward the window again.

KARA

A whole world of busy people with their projects. Then again, I suppose there’s something to be said for not appearing too busy for someone you love. It takes patience to be that face in the window, letting whomever’s coming home know that you were waiting for him, that he is loved. “I’ll leave the light on for you,” people say. “I kept the kettle hot.” They’re all little ways of saying, “I love you.” I wonder if your Daddy knows how much I love him, Lucky. Do you know that I still love your Daddy today as much as the day I married him? Even more.

KARA heads all the way to the window again, this time even putting her fingers up against the glass.

KARA

We’ll let ourselves wait by the window for him tonight — just so he knows that we haven’t forgotten. Just so he sees when he comes home-

The phone rings. KARA screams and drops LUCKY, who runs back to the safety of the couch. KARA tentatively crosses to the phone, takes a deep breath to steady her nerves, and picks up the receiver, turning her back to the window.

KARA
Hello?
(she listens)
Oh, hi, Mom.
(she listens)
No, it’s not too late to call.
(she listens)
Yeah, we’ve been getting snow here, too.
(she listens)
It’s not too bad yet.
(she listens)
How am dealing with it? I told you it’s not that bad yet.
(she listens)

Oh. Yeah. Two years ago today. Yeah, well of course I remembered. I just wasn’t thinking about it.

KARA’s eyes wander back to the window again.

KARA
No, Mom, I don’t need to move home.
(she listens)
I’m not all alone. I have Lucky here to protect me. Don’t I, Lucky?
(she listens)

Yes, Mom, but accidents happen. One day a person leaves for work and just never comes home.

(she listens)
I’m not being strong, Mom. It’s just the reality of the situation.
(she listens)

Um… thanks, I guess. Look, Mom, I gotta go. I have a call on the other line.

(she listens)
I love you, too.
(she listens)
I’m sorry he’s not here anymore, too.
(she listens)
Bye.

KARA picks up LUCKY and heads back to the window, cuddling him to her.

KARA

He’ll be home soon, Luckypants. We’re not gonna worry anymore. Your Daddy is definitely coming home.

As KARA pets the cat over and over LIGHTS SLOWLY FADE TO BLACK.

31 Plays #20: Your Country Sweetheart

One of the funniest things I’ve noticed about working on 31 Plays in 31 days has been how much it reminded me of a class I once took. It was called, fittingly, “Writing Comedy for TV.” It was taught by a great guy named Alan Cross and it delivered what it promised – a crash course in writing every kind of comedy that can be written for TV, from monologue jokes to sketches to sit-coms.

I actually had a great time exploring the different forms, but by the end of the class, I was fairly sure my style lent itself best to longer form stuff – building characters, telling stories. I even went on to take a whole class in writing spec scripts for TV (and had a blast).

The sketch-writing portion of the class – it’s not that I had trouble coming up with gimmicks and funny little left turns and outlandish characters who wanted absurd things. It just all felt very rote – less like we were creating new material and more like we were sort of rewriting sketches that had been written time and time again.

But I think I made a crucial error in how I approached the sketches. In looking back over what I’ve produced for 31 Plays in 31 Days, I see that a lot of the comedy sketches I wrote could easily be incorporated into an evening of sketch comedy. But the reason why I didn’t feel like I was writing sketches was that I didn’t set out to write a sketch. I set out to write a play – just short form. I didn’t go into it thinking “I’ve got to stock this with instantly recognizable characters and structure this around a central gimmick and make sure to get a laugh every few lines.” I went into it seeking to, ideally, create characters of complexity in interesting, challenging situations and make sure that they are faced with the possibility of change somewhere between LIGHTS UP and LIGHTS OUT.

I bring this up now because this particularly play is straight out of SNL (although it’s also very Paul Hagen). LENORETTA WHEELHOUSE is a faded country star, filming a commercial for her “Complete Collection.” In the course of the commercial, she reveals how – after her debut album “Your Country Sweetheart” each of her albums was fueled by dependence on a different sort of drugs. There were uppers. There were downers. There was black tar heroin. There was rehab. For each “period” in her life, we get to hear a couple of song titles (some of my favorites include “You Can’t Touch Me There,” “I’ Managed to Compose Myself (At Last)” and “The Sweetest Pie I Ever Tasted (Can’t Compare to This High).” In the final moments of the play, they finish filming the commercial and Lenoretta gets a phone call from her “sponsor” – who is clearly her drug dealer. She heads off, desperate to score as “Your Country Sweetheart” plays. On her way out, she tells them to “Turn that shit off!”

I think it’s a nice little mixer: Part meditation on how much personal misbehavior a fan base is willing to forgive, part accusatory look at celebrity hypocrisy, part scathing parody of country music. And I believe it’s my first 31 Plays project for which I got to write either lyrics or verse. (I had intended to write quite a bit of both before I realized what a mad dash to the finish line this would feel like at times).

But whatever you do, please remember: Lenoretta Wheelhouse will always be YOUR COUNTRY SWEETHEART, y’all. Now get that bitch some black tar heroin or she’ll get TESTY!

31 Plays #19: Bachelorette Olympics

To quote “Bye Bye Birdie” – “It’s come at last. At last it’s come. The day I knew would come at last – has come – at last.”

Here we are, at the beginning of what will likely be the busiest week of the month, the week leading up to uploading the next issue of Metrosource to print. This is the week when my normally late-ish nights at the office become full-on, oh-my-god, how can I still be in the office at this hour nights? This is the week, once every two months, when I will go get more coffee at 7pm because my eyes have ceased to focus from staring at the screen. If there was ever a week I was going to fall behind on 31 Plays in 31 Days, this is it.

And I’m starting the week two plays behind.

Fortunately, during my absurd insomnia last night, I was able to get some forward motion happening on another one of those “really short” play ideas I had. It’s meant to be a simple concept. Brie, a blushing bride to be, is sitting down with her two best girlfriends, Cammy and Ute. They’ve been helping her plan her wedding, as good sorority sisters will do – tasting cakes, visiting venues, trying on dresses, checking out nightspots for the Bachelorette party, etc.

Brie reveals that the entire time, she’s been scoring them on what she calls “The Bachelorette Olympics” and that the winner will be the Maid of Honor. She compliments each of them on certain traits: Cammy showed superior taste and style in wedding planning phase, while Ute clearly showed she was the superior bachelorette partier. Both earned top marks for helping tell off her mother in the great wedding dress debate.

Finally Brie announces that the award goes to “Cammy and-” But before she can finish, Ute flips out. ?You know why Cammy likes the same cake/appetizers/dinnner you like? Because she’s been fucking your fiancee! Why do you remember me and not her at the places they previewed for the Bachelorette Party? She took off early to Fuck your fiancee. And that day at the bridal store when they took Mom for tea to calm her down after telling her off? Yeah, Cammy was off fucking her fiancee that night, too!”

Ute storms out, and as Brie shouts after her to stay, Cammy sees that on Brie’s clipboard is written the fact that Ute and Cammy were going to be co-Maids of Honor. Cammy, incensed, tells Brie that she would never be a co-Maid of honor, and she hopes Brie is happy with Ute because Ute is secretly a lesbian who is hot for Brie.

Cammy storms out, threatening that it’ll be a strange wedding with a lesbian Maid of Honor secretly in love with the Bride. And no Groom. Because she’ll be busy fucking him. Brie is left to smash and break things and weep as the lights fade to black.

I have to say, I’m actually pretty happy with how this turned out. The turn from “We’re all happy sisters!” to “She’s fucking your fiancee!” is so harsh and sudden and cruel. Plus, even though Brie is arguably the most likable person in the piece (by the time the other girls’ secret bitchery is revealed), she gets punished for secretly judging them. In this way, I think the piece also acknowledges the pervasiveness of “reality show” culture entering people’s everyday lives – and how absolutely destructive that can be.

As the saying goes: Judge not, lest thy co-Maids of Honor destroy your life in five minutes flat.

31 Plays #18: Value

Just to not let all my happy peppy perky posting about my time writing in the window fool anyone, I could not believe that – by the time I had to leave for dinner tonight – I had only managed to get the third play from yesterday finished and both play #16 and #17 edited and formatted. And I did have one of those moments where I looked at my life and thought, “Why? I spent all day stressing out about this, just trying to do whatever I could to get ahead? And I’m not even going to get up to play 19 on the 19th? Why am I putting myself through all this torture?”

This is, mind you, the day after what I described as “one of the best moments of my entire life.”

The desire to accomplish something in this life is such a fickle mistress. It drives us to stay up late nights, put in work far above and beyond what it would take just to get the bills paid. If you’re extremely lucky, you might make some money doing it. If you’re just lucky, you might get more opportunities to do it. And if you’re unlucky, you’ll have beaten yourself to a bloody pulp trying to create something of value and anyone you show it to will shrug indifferently.

Well I can say that I’ve been lucky – presented with lots of opportunities to work. And I can say that I haven’t been met with too much indifference – at least not the aggressive kind that announces itself. But I will say that when you were a little boy who dreamed of growing up one day to win a Tony Award (yes, I know, that’s not supposed to be what matters), staring down at yet another play that will likely not get you any closer to that goal – it’s easy to feel that you have made some mistakes with your life.

That said, I at least wanted to leave this day feeling like I’d gotten a bit closer to breaking even on the 31 plays; so I forced myself to write another actually short play. I brainstormed on the way to a brief evening of dinner and theater (Saw Jeffrey James Keyes lovely “The End of Days” at Fringe 2012: Check it out if you’re in the NYC area. It’s funny how surreal hyperrealism about hipsters can be because hipsters are so surreal.)

My premise? A homeless man is panhandling. A business man offers him $100 to kill himself. The homless man hems and haws, gets the business man up to $500 and a day to spend it. But the moment the homeless man reaches out to take the money, the business man slices the homeless man’s throat. I had trouble with the piece at first. Why all the negotiation if the business man was just going to kill the homeless man? But, in the last moments of the play, the homeless man attempts to speak, begging – not for his life – but for the $500 and the day. The businessman’s reply? “You only would have wasted it.” The business man is punishing the homeless man for the value (or lack thereof) which he has placed on his life. I think it speaks to how the rich think of the poor and how little the poor are taught to think of themselves.

My favorite moment, though, is when the Business Man is still offerring $100 and the homeless man is far from a yes. He jacks the offer way up to $500 and before he can even consider the logistics of what $500 could possibly be worth to a dead man, he’s genuinely impressed – just at the mere fact of the offer going from $100 to $500 – for his life. “Wow,” he says.

Value.

31 Plays #17: The Naming Convention

Here’s my last play from the Window of the Drama Book Shop. Some additional things that I learned from writing in the window:

- Even the streets of New York City are not as distracting as having a TV in the room.

- Setting up a good little writing corner with a comfortable chair and a good desk will help make you more productive than having a whole load of extra free time.

- Even sitting down and cranking out two whole plays and a portion of the third does not mean you have finished three whole plays. You will invariably spend a bunch of extra time editing and formatting. (And, in my case, composing blog posts about them.) Oh, and finishing the third play.

- Though there is some aspect of the writing process that will feel – by its nature – lonely, a writer need not be alone. The best motivator is to feel your part in a vibrant theatrical community – to know that, whatever else you fear or feel, there are actors waiting for the opportunity to say your words and audiences waiting for the opportunity to experience them. It’s something that I knew back in college when I did my most prolific writing, and I think I forgot it along the way. I’m grateful for the reminder.

Without further ado –

• A Bee
• A Fish
• A Directional Arrow
• A Lightbulb
• A Sheep
• Dice
• A Key
• An Apple
• A Tree

I have complained, on occasion (even on this blog), that the storycubes lean a little heavily on animals. Now, there are always ways to re-interpret a picture of an animal: a sheep could represent someone who is gentle as a lamb. There are likely unique ways to interpret any picture on the dice – in this very piece I used a lightbulb to indicate having a great idea (cartoon logic, but it got the job done). But with what I didn’t quite realize was only a few minutes left in the window (and an audience watching), I didn’t have time to re-invent the wheel. So where does one go with a bunch of mismatched animals? The Bible, of course.

In this case, I took us to the Garden of Eden Adam and Eve are deciding what to name the animals. The term “naming convention” gets thrown around a fair amount in my office – in reference to how we name files for printing, archiving, etc. – but I thought that Adam and Eve naming the animals could also be the original “Naming Convention.” Even if it was only a convention of two, it was technically – at the time – all of humanity. I also thought – as a tremendous student of Bible stories

So here’s the story:
Adam and Eve are sitting near the (tree) of life. They come up with some rather ridiculous names for (bees) and (fish) and (sheep).

Suddenly, a piece of (fruit) falls from the tree and hits Adam in the head. Eve gets an (idea). She thinks that if they eat the fruit, it will (unlock) the true names of what the animals ought to be. Eve insists that it is worth the (gamble). Adam eventually comes around. He just needed a push in the right (direction). Cue the lightning and thunder! The damning of humanity ensues.

I thought it would be fun to re-purpose this very familiar story with fear of failure standing in for the traditional serpent offering eve the fruit of wisdom. She’s afraid they’ll do a bad job of naming the animals. She’s willing to risk disobeying the rules when it comes to the tree if it means getting ahead with the task of naming the animals. Probably my favorite line – which reflects my frustration with this world that CONSTANTLY sends artists competing messages of “do what you love” and “do what pays your bills” – comes from before Adam wavers:

ADAM
Babe, don’t get so excited. I think you’re looking at it the wrong way. God hasn’t given us this job as a way of seeing whether or not we’ll fail. He’s given it to us because he trusts us to work together with him on Creation. The value of a job isn’t just in being successful at it; it’s in finding creative fulfillment in the act. And as long as all of our physical needs are provided for by a beneficent God figure in a climate so moderate that wearing clothing never even occurs to us, that’s how jobs should always be.