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Edd
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Posted: Sun Mar 2nd, 2008 09:43 pm |
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WIN A REAL NON-VIRTUAL PRIZE (All hardcover):
1. SOMETHING CLOUDY, SOMETHING CLEAR, Tennessee Williams’ last play
2. RACING DEMON by David Hare
3. MOON OVER BUFFALO by Ken Ludwig
4. MRS. KLEIN by Nicholas Wright
5. THE CRYPTOGRAM by David Mamet
6. SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION by John Guare
7. BEYOND THERAPY by Christopher Durang
8. THE FEVER by Wallace Shawn
9. A SHAYNA MAIDEL by Barbara Lebow
10. ROAD TO NIRVANA by Arthur Kopit
11. MY CHILDREN! MY AFRICA! by Athol Fugard
12. CHILDREN OF A LESSER GOD by Mark Medoff
13. TOUGH COOKIES by yours truly (autographed Samuel French special bound edition, semi-hardcover)
You choose. All you have to do is write a play that is at least one page and NO more than two pages. That’s it!
DO NOT post it in the forum. Send it to me directly at edd@edwardcrosbywells.com with "FORUM CONTEST" in the subject line. You must be a Forum member, so please include your Forum name. Deadline: March 31, 2008.
When I have made my decision, I will post all the plays on the forum at the same time for all to read. At least six entries to validate the contest are required. Should there be less than six entries those plays that were entered will roll over to the following month, and those playwrights will have the option of entering a second play.
I will make my decision based on what tickles, amuses, wows me, or is simply a reaction to what I ate that day. This contest is not scientific and I am certainly no judge of what is "best." I know what I like and what I like less and that's pretty much all there is to it. It’s meant to be fun and to keep you guys writing!
NOTE: I spend more time than I’d like on reformatting all the entries so that they are uniform. Please take note of the format in which they are posted here and format accordingly. Thanks.
Laughter, Bravos and Fabulous Lighting,
~Edd
* * * * * *
AND NOW FOR THIS MONTH’S WINNER! This was the toughest month since I’ve been doing this. It took me a very long time to choose which play I would declare the winner. I truly loved them all, but as I’ve said before, it all depends on “where I’m at,” so to speak, when I read your plays. I actually read each at least twice over a period of a couple days. I could not decide. As I type at this very moment I am not certain which play it will be. While I transcribe my notes, perhaps it will become self-evident.
COMING HOME TO ROOST by Shirleyk takes truth to the extreme. This is always funny with me. It’s timely and relevant and a laugh-out-loud read. And I am sure that it would play very well. A terrific job! INCH FOOT by Martin Heavisides rubbed me “the wrong way.” I hated it! I didn’t even see it as a play. I saw no way it could possibly be produced and, quite frankly, I didn’t care. Then why did I return to it so many times? Why such a strong reaction? At last, I “saw” it and I loved it! The moral, for me at least, is to be careful of what you hate because you may end up loving it. I saw how a riser and a strip of reflective tape along the top could settle the need for a tightrope. I saw the depth of thought that went into its creation. INCH FOOT is fresh, original, thoughtful and provocative. PRIMED FOR DISAPPOINTMENT by John Conforti is slyly clever, smart, engaging and charming. Was it existential? Damned if I know. Bravo! SHORT SHRIFT by Ron Frankel is a wonderful example of writing in the moment of the assignment. I’m not quite sure it would play as well as it does were it outside the context of this contest, but it was great fun in my mind. A job well done! HEY DUDE by Luana Krause was very clever! I would love to see how students would do this. They would have so much fun with it! Oftentimes I come across schools looking for plays of this nature. They don’t usually pay anything, but getting your name as a playwright into the minds of those young people is priceless. There is nothing “iffy” about MAYBE by Mary Alice Mark. It took me a few reads to “get it.” When I did, I found it stunning. Think twice. There may be much more use out of the things and the people we discard. Very nicely done. WAITING LIFE by Michael Weems is indeed wonderful! It is contemporary and engaging. But most of all, I cared very much about these characters. They were real and honest. A superb job. Bravo! RULE OF THUMB by timmy is an enigmatic and engaging play. There is much more than meets the eye. Scratch the surface on this one. Is it the destruction of a perfectly good relationship or the beginning of another? I don’t know. The question alone is alluring. Great!
Now we come to the winner. There has never been a month where every single play was a quality piece of work. Each one of these plays deserves to win, but I can only pick one and that’s a shame. Please, every single one of you, enter your plays in every short play contest you come across. I believe that when the membership reads all these plays, they will agree that all this month's entries are great. I am humbled by all of you.
Okay. For fresh, original, thoughtful and provocative theatre my choice for this month is INCH FOOT by Martin Heavisides. Martin, pick out your prize and email me with your choice and postal address to edd@edwardcrosbywells.com
* * * * *
COMING HOME TO ROOST by shirleyk
(LARRY is holding a metal bucket as ARTHUR enters.)
LARRY: Here chick, chick, chick. Here chick, chick, chick. Supper time.
ARTHUR: Larry Crawford?
LARRY: That’s me. You here for the eggs? We got brown eggs but most folks like white eggs. Never could figure why. You ask me, eggs is eggs.
ARTHUR: Sir, I’m from Homeland Security. Please fill out these forms.
LARRY: All those? Why?
ARTHUR: It’s about your chickens.
LARRY: What’s Homeland Security want with my chickens?
ARTHUR: I understand you have propane tanks here on your farm.
LARRY: To heat the chicken houses. Chickens get cold. When they’re cold they’re not happy. When they’re not happy they don’t lay eggs.
ARTHUR: Perhaps you don’t realize that propane tanks make your farm a target for terrorists?
LARRY: Hang on. Bev, you need to come out and hear this.
(BEV enters.)
BEV: What’s all the fuss about? He wants eggs, sell him eggs.
LARRY: This fella says terrorists are gonna kill us cuz we got propane tanks.
ARTHUR: Ma’am, I need you and your husband to fill out these forms. Strictly routine.
BEV: You come here saying terrorists are fixing to kill us and it’s strictly routine? Get off our property or I’m calling the sheriff.
ARTHUR: No need for that. Just register with Homeland Security.
LARRY: Every chicken farmer with propane tanks has got to register? We got upwards of 300 chickens for every person in this state. And those chickens like warm coops.
ARTHUR: Sir, this is serious. Terrorists could target your tanks.
LARRY: And blow ‘em up? What they’d end up with is chicken fricassee. Look, these chickens need to be kept warm and I don’t have time to fill out a ton of forms telling you why.
BEV: That settles it. I’m phoning everyone. We need to be staging a public protest. I don’t even like chickens -- pigs, that’s what I like -- but I’m not standing for this. (BEV exits.)
ARTHUR: If you fail to cooperate, we may need to detain you.
LARRY: Boy, howdy. Bev, get back out here. The government’s fixing to toss us in jail.
(BEV enters.)
ARTHUR: I need your cooperation. First, photos of your irises --
BEV: Irises? They’re not blooming now.
ARTHUR: -- and impressions of your palm prints. Strictly routine.
BEV: What if we say no?
LARRY: He’s tossing us in jail. That settles it. I’m getting my shotgun!
ARTHUR: (Talking into his lapel.) Move in slowly. This individual is armed and dangerous. Repeat: armed and dangerous.
BEV: Oh, No! I told you we should’ve raised pigs!
END * * * * * *
inch foot by Martin Heavisides C 2007 Martin Heavisides
Indistinct murmur of voices. The stage is in blackness except for a follow spot on a pair of feet in pointe slippers. which--against a sudden terrific howl of wind--step, the left foot first and then the right, from a platform about fifteen feet above the stage floor to a glimmering tightrope wire. Hesitant at first and then more purposeful steps.
"Are you ready?" says a voice out of the murmurs, its last syllable jolted by a clap of thunder with reverberant echoes, the seventh and last of which is no more threatening than the sound of distant gunfire. Step by step as the wind subsides beneath a rising patter of rain, the illuminated feet move cautiously forward. Murmurs, rising roar of wind and rain.
"Can they fire you for that?"
"You don't take Visa?! That's the most horrible thing I ever heard!"
"heaped in every direction, bone showing through"
Very faintly, gone almost before it's heard, the tinkling of a little bell.
"colour of their blood and the colour of our money"
Lashing torrential rain, whipped by a rising fury of wind. Slow but steady movement of the light across the wire.
"Man, old Zeke was whalin'!" "Who do you like as the killer?"
"revolutions of the sun"
"if you become. . . naked"
"heaps of love and hunks of sugar"
"I don't think I like your tone." Gunshot.
Rain and wind have subsided somewhat beneath the rising tide of words.
"Fifty million dollars! why--that's a small fortune."
"piles of money to be made and no competition but idiots"
"I'm not saying we won't get our hair mussed. (static) ten to twenty million dead, tops! Depending on the"
Static now rises, an arrhythmic pulse beat, above the subdued noise of wind and rain and voices. Small battered phrases nevertheless struggle up to audibility here and there.
"don't believe anything they" static
"but the light vanished" static
"coping but it's tough" . . .
"portents and dreams". . .
"did you hear about. . . ?" . . .
"know her all that well but even so--can you imagine?". . .
"can you imagine?" . . .
"can you imagine?"
Static accompanied by shrieks and wails in waves that crest and trough. Slow steady footsteps. The light and the tightrope walker follow the wire off right. In the blackness onstage, static, wind, rain--sudden silence.
END * * * * * *
Primed for Disappointment By John Conforti A student, GEORGE, stands outside a door. On the other side of him is a group of headshots posted on a bulletin board. He is visibly unhappy about standing there and his voice reflects this. Enter BOB, a second student.
BOB: (Playfully/Excited) Hey, Georgie! You (bad pun) Waiting for Waiting for Godot?
GEORGE: That wasn’t clever. And - I’m waiting for you. To SEE Waiting for Godot.
BOB: I know, I know! Oh man, this is exciting. Our first required assignment of the semester! And it’s as easy as going to a PLAY! I tell ya, Georgie, I love the theatre. So much excitement! The thrill of watching the drama unfold right before your eyes - LIVE! I tell you - and I’m honest here - I haven’t been to nearly enough plays. Not nearly enough. That’s why I took this class - so I’d be motivated to get out and see and appreciate this art form, because - let’s face it - after every play I’ve ever seen - I’ve felt so invigorated. So alive! I LOVE that feeling. It’s so much better than a movie. Most of the “good ones” these days are far too long and uneventful.
GEORGE: (After a pause) You didn’t read the play like you were supposed to, did you?
BOB: Well, no. I don’t have the money to buy the textbooks yet. It doesn’t matter though - our reviews aren’t due until after this show’s over, and it still runs for another week after this. All I even know about this show is that little bit Professor Wright said in class - the show’s about Vladimir and Estragon - “Go-Go” - and they wait for Godot. And let me tell you - I am so glad he didn’t say anything more. Leaves the story wide-open and didn‘t ruin anything.
GEORGE: Right.
BOB: And once Godot shows up - I have not even the SLIGHTEST idea as to what they’re going to do. It’s wonderful. (Beat) You know - I’m going to call you Go-Go.
GEORGE: Please don’t do that.
BOB: It’s perfect - you have the “G” and the “O” in your name. Actually - all the letters of your name are in Estragon.
GEORGE:Yeah, I don’t care.
BOB: That makes me Vladimir. Vlad the Impaler. Of course, none of the letters in “Vladimir” can be found in “Bob.”
GEORGE: No, they can’t.
BOB: Well - I suppose I could use my real name, Robert. They share an “R.”
GEORGE: Yeah, I’m curious. What plays have you actually seen before?
BOB: I saw A Christmas Carol like two or three years ago. Umm...Oh - in elementary school, they had a group come in and act out The Tortoise and the Hare. It was hilarious. At one point - the Hare bought crack...well, they were Tic-Tacs, but it was supposed to be like an anti-drug thing.
GEORGE: (Finally happy) Right. Well, sir, you are in for a real treat today.
BOB: I know! Hey - Professor Wright didn’t mention if this was a musical or not. Is it at all like Rent? I saw the movie - total chick flick - (sincerely) But not bad. I like musicals. It was suggested to me recently I go see that Wizard of Oz one.
GEORGE: Wicked?
BOB: That’s it! Dude, why are you in this class, you know so much about theatre history already.
GEORGE: It’s required for my major. (Beat) I’m going to go inside now. (Exits through door)
BOB: (Staring at the head shots/Calling to GEORGE) That’s weird. They don’t say who’s playing Godot.
END * * * * * * SHORT SHRIFT By Ron Frankel
Cast of Characters:
Patricia: A woman about 40
John: Her husband, about the same age
Scene: An alcove in John and Patricia’s home.
Time: Late at night
John is sitting at his computer, writing. He is in his pajamas. His wife, Patricia, comes up behind him. Patricia taps John gently on his shoulder.
PATRICIA: It’s late, John. You should come to bed.
JOHN: In a little while, Pat.
PATRICIA: Couldn’t you finish tomorrow?
JOHN: There is no tomorrow.
PATRICIA: Yes there is. Look at the calendar.
JOHN: I love you, sweetheart, but making jokes isn’t your strength.
PATRICIA: What’s so important you have to get it done tonight?
JOHN: It’s not important. It’s just that it’s due today. And it’s almost midnight. And I have no idea what I’m going to write.
PATRICIA: What is it exactly that you’re supposed to write?
JOHN: A play.
PATRICIA: A play? You have to write a play in just a few hours? That’s ridiculous.
JOHNL Well, it’s more like a play-let. It’s for a contest.
PATRICIA: What’s a play-let? I never heard of a play-let.
JOHN: It’s just what I call it. I don’t know if there’s an official name. It’s just a short play.
PATRICIA: How short?
JOHN: A page. Maybe two.
PATRICIA: Come to bed. Someone is pulling your leg.
JOHN: No, it’s a real contest.
PATRICIA: Honey, a play has a plot, character development, conflict—who knows what else? How can you do that on one page?
JOHN: It could be two.
PATRICIA: Well, that makes all the difference in the world doesn’t it?
JOHN: (Giving up.) I guess you’re right. It is kind of ridiculous. (John gets up and gets ready to exit with Patricia.) Too bad it couldn’t be three pages. I could really spread my wings then.
(They exit.)
END * * * * * * Hey Dude
by Luana Krause
CAST:
TREVOR (teen boy)
JOSH (teen boy)
TEEN GIRL
TREVOR: (Greets his friend JOSH outside the mall) Dude!
JOSH: (Flashes TREVOR a hand gesture with pinky and thumb extended) Dude.
TREVOR: (Puts hands in pockets of his baggy jeans) Duuude.
JOSH: (Flaps his arms like a chicken) Dude . . .
TREVOR: (Adjusts volume on his iPod and moves to the rhythm) DUDE!
JOSH: (Nudges TREVOR and gawks at girl walking by in low-slung jeans and a belly ring) DUUUDE!!!
TREVOR: (Puts his baseball cap on backwards) Dude.
JOSH: (Counts the change in his pocket) Dude?
TREVOR: (Takes his father's MasterCard out of his pocket and shows it to JOSH with an elaborate gesture) Dude!
JOSH: (High-fives TREVOR) Duuude!
JOSH and TREVOR: (Enter mall as the girl in low-slung jeans and belly ring walks out) DUUUUUUDDDDE!
END * * * * * *
Maybe By Mary Alice Mark
Cast of Characters
PERSON: Apparently down and out, studies something on the ground.
OTHER PERSON: Apparently down and out.
Setting: Anyplace people walk.
AT RISE: PERSON studies something on the ground. OTHER PERSON approaches.
OTHER PERSON: Good evening.
PERSON: Maybe.
OTHER PERSON I’m headed over to help set up. Maybe help serve.
PERSON: They don’t need any more help.
OTHER PERSON: Oh. Well . . . (Starts to walk away.)
PERSON: They won’t be open to us for another hour.
OTHER PERSON: (Noticing Person’s gaze.) What is that?
PERSON: Broken.
OTHER PERSON: Maybe we could put it together. (Tries.)
PERSON: Maybe.
OTHER PERSON: Some of it’s missing.
PERSON: Maybe.
OTHER PERSON: We could make something else.
PERSON: Maybe.
OTHER PERSON: There.
PERSON: What is it?
OTHER PERSON: Not broken.
END * * * * * Waiting Life By Michael Weems
Characters
JESSICA: City girl. Honest, tired of playing the game.
RYAN: Hip, young executive. Sensitive, but kind.
Setting: A couch in a midtown NYC apartment.
Properties: Two drinking glasses. One remote control.
JESSICA: In a few minutes, he’ll arrive for our date. At first I didn’t know what to expect. You try to gain as much information as possible over the music and chatter at boozy cocktail parties; or in less desirable times, over the roar of the ball game and the drunken, though not so different revelers. You’ve got a few precious moments to assess: Teeth all there? Check. Does he have a wimpy handshake? Thank god no. Is he too well groomed? Is he actually starting to dance to the music? Is he prettier than me? Why am I at a party in Soho? All red flags, of course. Quickly you find out he is satisfactory enough in looks, odor, social graces, and conversation to warrant a phone number or a kiss. If you’re good, you can even pull a few details out of the personal file. Was that a real, bonafide laugh at something that came my way? (Deadpan) I’m not funny. Date number two. That is, if we’re counting the ‘goodbye Jill have fun in your new life in Indiana’ party, as date number one. In the less than stellar lighting of my studio apartment, I start to see him as a whole new man. His hair looks much worse now. It’s too short. I pray I made the right decision. Suppose we run out of conversation! We won’t have the idle party goers passing by or interrupting our talks to fill voids. I guess we can just start to make out if that happens. (Ryan enters and closes the door behind him) When he walks in the door, he locks it behind him immediately, like an intruder is 5 steps behind him. I greet him. We kissed once already but what’s the expectation here? (He leans in and kisses her once. She is a bit happily flustered) Well, there we go. He doesn’t seem to like standing. He instinctually seems to know which side of the couch is mine and within a few moments will be sitting there. I want him to be comfortable. The top button comes undone, he loosens his tie, but his shirt remains tucked in and his shoes stay on. I take his tie off for him and fold it nicely. I think it’s expensive. Tonight he surprises me with take out from a nice sushi place. I really have no idea how he knows what I would’ve ordered, but somehow he gets it right. Later, things change. You settle in to this lifestyle. You have a choice to either acclimate or deny this person. Soon, he might even leave the door open a few moments as he enters. I worry that I might like him too much already. (She sighs) Who knows? Maybe he’ll even be ‘the one’. (She turns to Ryan.) Scotch? No, wait! Gin. How could I forget? (She exits to get his drink)
RYAN: Thanks doll! (To audience) It’s scotch actually. I know what you’re thinking. Let me fill you on a few life lessons from 6 years, 9 months, and 15 days in the city dating life. First, all women eat sushi. The more obscure the restaurants, the better off you are. Women aren’t a huge challenge in terms of general interests. I don’t mean this in a sexist way, but if you stick with shoes, Disney, chocolate, and dancing, you simply cannot go wrong. Doesn’t matter if you have two left feet, get the worst tripe that old Walt ever produced, and the chocolates not her favorite. Next, chivalry isn’t dead. Smile, ask questions, make them feel intelligent, make their job sound impressive and possibly beneath them. Hold the door, but don’t make them out to be physically inept. They know you’re going to want sex, so don’t pretend you’re this celibate being, strictly satiated by a hug at the end of the night. Be upfront, but not pushy. And yes, as awkward as I may look in the non-bar, alcohol induced setting, she looks the same. Crows feet, white hairs, maybe a little less make up – all of these will smack you in the face and your job is not to notice. You accept these things just as you know she will for you. Second date. Her place. It’s not a mystery. I lock the door because this is friggin New York. I don’t take my shoes off because I’ve been working 10 hours and they smell like death. I will eventually, but until then, you take it date by date. Soon you cross that magical line, where after you’ve slept together, or taken your shoes off in this scenario, you enter into ‘seeing each other, then ‘dating’, and finally ‘in a relationship’. It takes a while but you hope she’s the one who, whether or not she notices these imperfections in you, accepts them or makes them into her vision of you. (Jessica enters with drinks for both of them and sits). I believe that people truly want to settle. Playing the game, or keeping yourself available is just a façade and helps them feel young and avoid connecting to something that might end in either happiness or hurt. No one needs to see a late 40’s playboy cruising in too tight clothes. Unless you’re a financial executive, a doctor, a lawyer, or a professional ball player, either settle down and have a family and a home, or hang up your hat somewhere in that magical single land where comfort and love are supposed to be equal to their next conquest. I can’t blame anyone for wanting to avoid that fear of hurt or rejection, but you have to live. (He sits next to her and Jessica cuddles into him. He speaks to Jessica) My name is Ryan. I’m turning 33 this May, I have a widow’s peak, graying hair, smelly feet, I secretly play the air guitar to ‘90s progressive rock, and I might just love you.
JESSICA: (To Ryan) My name is Jessica. I’m turning 35, again, this August. I tell everyone I run two more miles per day than I really do, I need complete pitch darkness to sleep, and I collect anything I can find about ballerinas. And I think you’re wonderful. (They kiss. He hands her a DVD. She laughs happily) Lady and the Tramp!? (She stands and picks up the remote. She hands it to him and takes off his shoes. He starts to protest.) I don’t care.
(She tosses the shoes off to the side and cuddles into him.)
(Sweet and flirty) Stay awhile.
END * * * * *
Rule of Thumb (a short/short) by timmy
(Late afternoon. Motel room. Marla/dressing. William in bed)
Marla: May I ask a stupid question?
William: There are no stupid questions.
Marla: I beg to differ. There are many.
William: Go ahead. Ask one.
Marla: How many times have we met?
William: Twelve times.
Marla: Why?
William: Because it feels good, silly.
Marla: Thank you. But that wasn’t my question.
William: Sorry. Go ahead.
Marla: Whenever we meet, you always mention Joan. Don’t you think that hurts?
William: I never give it much thought. Why do you ask?
Marla: Because I need to know what you’re feeling.
William: I’m not faking, if that’s what you mean. (beat...beat...beat)
Marla: I’m falling in love with you.
William: No, you’re not. You’re in love with my cock. That’s different.
Marla: I need to know what you’re like when you’re not here.
William: You wouldn’t like me.
Marla: Why?
William: I told you...I wanted nothing else from you. You agreed.
Marla: Yes, but things have changed.
William: Why? Why do things have to change just because you want them to?
Marla: I’m tired of just providing good deeds.
William: That’s a human condition. No good deed goes unpunished. Society expects people to manage their own affairs, but the sad part is that many can’t.
Marla: May I ask another stupid question?
William: Only if you feel like it.
Marla: Is there a chance if I drop this line of questions that we would still meet next week? (No answer) I said, is there a chance...
William: That’s two stupid questions. You’re only allowed one at a time.
Marla: Is that your answer?
William: You’ll find out.
Marla: When?
William: When you either see me next week or not.
Marla: May I call you this week?
William: That’s against the rules.
Marla: Can’t they be changed?
William: Why? Why would you want to change the rules now?
Marla: I told you. I’m falling in love with you. (Pause)
William: Do me a favor...If you see me next week....don’t tell me what who to love.
Marla: Do me a favor?
William: Maybe.
Marla: If I see you, don’t blame me for being here...just tell me it’s okay to love you.
(William does not answer. Marla...brief look at William. Exits)
END
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muncy
Member
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Posted: Tue Mar 4th, 2008 06:14 pm |
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I loved them all too.
Well done you talented people
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Michaeltw721
Member
| Joined: | Wed Mar 5th, 2008 |
| Location: | NYC, New York USA |
| Posts: | 20 |
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Posted: Wed Mar 5th, 2008 04:38 pm |
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Shirley K – cute, unique premise. I could picture the wife pretty clearly and thought it was too much fun.
Martin – I didn’t expect a more existential feeling play to be able to flourish in such a short amount of time. Color me incorrect.
John – Kept me smiling the whole time. I liked the tone, pacing, and had to laugh out loud at the “I’m going to call you go-go” bit.
Ron – A nice little spontaneous critique on the process and how outsiders might view the craft.
Luana – A fresh fun play on words and an incredible exercise/piece for both the writer and actors alike.
Mary – A rather sharp piece that indeed is appreciated after read #2. I liked the somber tone but also that it had hope.
Timmy – Wow. A heavy piece without going melodramatic and one which made me really want to see what their first dates were like, and what he’s like when she’s not around. More!
Wonderful job to all.
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dresdenkiss
Member
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Posted: Wed Mar 5th, 2008 07:16 pm |
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I absolutely love these contests. The results are fun to read, and it's a fun medium to write in. Good job all!
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Martin H
Member
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Posted: Thu Mar 6th, 2008 01:13 am |
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Yeah, all of these were a lot of fun. I used the self aware story in another contest, for stories with a maximum length of fifty words. A character asks "How stupid do you think I am?" and another replies "You don't expect me to answer that effectively in a story that can't exceed fifty words?"
As I already conveyed to Edd, I feel honoured to be selected the winner in such strong company.
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Deirdre
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| Joined: | Tue Mar 18th, 2008 |
| Location: | British Columbia |
| Posts: | 31 |
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Posted: Tue Mar 25th, 2008 08:50 pm |
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Just found this thread and what a delight these shorts are! Unique, playful, serious, intriguing, funny, it's incredible what can be accomplished in 2 pages.
I love the winning piece, I wonder if Martin wants to talk about it a little bit? The feet on the tightrope juxtaposed with the crackle of sporadic dialogue is amazing. I hope this piece has a life beyond the contest -
Good job all of you, and congrats to MH
D
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Martin H
Member
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Posted: Wed Mar 26th, 2008 12:38 am |
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| A version of this was originally the 'Prologue' of a longish one act 'Zen' play titled inch foot time gem, which I decided didn't work in its present form. Neither did this scene 'til I sharpened the dialogue and added the nature effects, but at that point I thought, without prejudice to its use in conjunction with other material (a conceptual revue/Cabaret?), it worked rather well on its own. I hope it has a further life elsewhere myself. Thank you for your good wishes.
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