Strand Theater Company
Dear Mama 06/10/2010
 Trippy. Only way to say what it's like to watch a play you wrote. Astonishing, Thrilling, Bizarre are true, but there's something a little more Alice in Wonderland in the mix. Carefully constructed thoughts I forgot I thought, jokes I didn't know I made coming to my ear in my own fingerprint language. I'm dazzling in the wonder of it, the specialness of it, and running my busy little critic like a news crawl underneath. Too many adverbs! Always with you! That line, come on, are you that pretentious? Damn the way she cocked her hip there was fucking rrwor sexy. This speech is 45 seconds past self-indulgent. It's a humbling privilege, to watch your words get bigger than you. I've just come home from my first glimpse, the dress rehearsal for How I Learned to Eat Pussy. It’s terrific, it’s lovely, it’s much better than I’d hoped. Those women worked so hard to tell my little story and tell it true. Our director, Cyria Smills, made some choices (I won’t lie) I was skeptical about. She was right, though. My words are just the container now for a vision that I couldn’t imagine until they showed it to me. There are rough edges, to be sure, with a blink-brief rehearsal period it was inevitable there would be. But the spirit of it is there, really there. I felt the places where the tone shifts, got swept along. I laughed, it’s funny! And it’s touching, I believe it really is. And it’s sexy. SEXY. Sexy sexy sexxxy!!! Oh the hotness. Oh. My. So, um, what happened was... I hang out in artsy circles, bless them, a lot of my peoples do performance works. An Amazon powerhouse that cannot be tamed (and my wedding planner), Maria Miranda, founded Whisper to a Scream Feminist Theater Collective in my dear CleveLand, and she likes me, and liked my doomed blog when I did it that quick second. She asked me to write something for her new compilation show that is a tiny bit like the Vagina Monologues but more like a response to the Vagina Monologues but really just an anthem that will speak to women everywhere, and make it be about sex. I stared at the pulsing blank screen for the third hour and couldn’t justify checking my email one more time. I thought while-I'm-waiting-for-inspiration I should just write a memory, something, just to practice and spark some creative momentum. Hmm. Ok...let me tell the story of how I learned to eat pussy...I got a little carried away. The show that bloomed at Cleveland Public Theatre was tremendous, holy Great Big Mama in the sky beautiful. A blessing and a revelation. This is a cheap literary shortcut, but that unforgettable experience really is a whole other post. When we got back and came down from that cloud, Tori (my love) said Baby let me produce How I Learned to Eat Pussy here for you in the most tender way. I said of course!, of course. Didn't think about how or even whether I meant that, she's a charmer. So the Strand Theater is seeking new plays by women for its second annual Friends and Neighbors Festival. Tori submits my play. Without telling me, under my name. Yep, just like a sitcom. Because she's sure I'll never be picked and she'll never have to tell me, not because she nobly believes in my work more than I do. To be fair, though, she often does believe in what I can’t bring myself to hope for, and her faith makes me brave. You can look at it this way: I was unbrave about asking people to do my show again, the hubris of it was too heavy, so she faked me some courage and got it done. I quit a job I was really over to move onto new and vibrant work a few weeks ago. Twenty minutes after I turned in my jubilant resignation, Tori rings my phone. “I have awesome-slash-scary news” says she. I silently reckon somebody's pregnant. She fesses up about submitting my work and tells me my play has been chosen. Out of a field of 45 plays, my smutty one-act is one of the four that will make the Festival. I'm kinda mad she impersonated me, but it's a really big day already, so vexed squeezes out and ignites the fumes of delighted and terrified to muddle my vision with a weird, shaky fireworks show for the rest of the day. But there are complications. We will be given the space, publicity and a small budget, but we're producing this on our own. The director we're excited to use has an unavoidable conflict with auditions, so we're going to have to run callbacks. And we don't have much time. Me and Tori are both pretty damn busy already. The show, this talky complicated everyone-always-on-stage show, goes up in three weeks. And then there's one more thing. I'm gonna hafta come out to my Mama. Not like she doesn't know I'm queer. She held my other hand while Tori and I jumped the broom at our wedding. My Mama-I-have-to-talk-to-you moment happened in a campus phone booth 17 years ago. But “I wrote a play called How I Learned to Eat Pussy with a 10-minute lesbo sex sequence that we're going to sell many tickets to and will probably be attached to my name on the internet until I die” is a new chapter in the coming out process. She's a Hoosier, a sainted and sweet elder-ish minister's wife, a queen WASP. She's done so well with the queer thing, why torture her? She already has plenty of worries to tend, this would just be a burden. I fear she'll be scared for me. Maybe someone will see my piece and track me to my house and rape me because I'm so loud about being a dyke (she thinks, the way a lot of mamas do, that rape is around every corner in a Big City. Wish she was wrong-er about that). Also, the internet -- I'll never get anyone to hire me if they find out I'm a pornographer. And maybe she'll want to see it. There's some stuff in there I didn't tell her ever happened and I'd rather not talk about it now decades later, way past the point where it matters. She lives in another state, though, why do I even need to consider the question? Why stir things up if it's going to be so hard on her? Well, my Mama and I are close. I talk to her every day as I walk to work and I tell her about my real life. She knows when I'm learning lines for the Charm City Kitty Club show, she knows when I try a new recipe, she knows when I have a fight with my wife. I won a contest and wrote a play that's being produced is HUGE. By not telling her, I rob her of the right to be proud of me. Pride is the pot of gold at the end of a mother's rainbow, and she carried me so many hard miles to reach it. She still carries me from time to time, though I’m 37 years old, because she’s a four-star Mama on Active Duty way past typical Mom retirement. Not telling Mama would be a lie of omission for sure. I'm ok with some omission, actually. The way I see it some things are private, some things are secret. I try to parse the distinction and stay away from secrets in life. But I feel like this one could go either way. There's a practical concern, too – it IS on the internet. All my chosen family dear ones know about it, and some of them talk to her. If she caught wind some other way it would make her so sad I hadn't told her myself. She'd never tell me, she'd just bury that hurt like a splinter in her heart. Finally, I measured the disclosure question with the Universal Coming Out Yardstick. “If you don't tell _________ about __________, will it hurt your relationship?” If I don't tell Mama about How I Learned to Eat Pussy, will she miss out on knowing who I am? Will I avoid talking to her so I don't slip up and tell her what I really did last night? Will I be ashamed of my shame? YES, yes I will. And this play is about letting go of pussy-related shame. Be brave, Kate. You know she's not going to disown you. She’s sturdier than you giver her credit for, pioneer stock. It'll only twinge for a moment. It's the Right Thing To Do. You owe it to yourself, and to the two dozen people who have put themselves out there for public ridicule to make your work come to life twice. Come on now, Amazon Princess, tell your mama what you did. Of course, the actual conversation was anticlimactic. Making the decision to tell was the point. She's so proud of me! Soooooo PROUD! She doesn’t need to read it or see it if I'd rather she didn't, she understands. She doesn't think she needs to know the name, no, not if it's really racy. She took a guess about what it might be called, though. “Screwing Around by Kate Bishop is probably too mild, right?” She just made me promise that the next play I write will be something she can come to. And I will, I will. We made a deal.  On Sunday, April 25, 2010, Strand Theater Company’s artistic director Jayme Kilburn informed me that the first play that I have ever written was selected for its second annual Friends and Neighbors Festival: Works by Women (FN Fest)!! On Wednesday, April 28, 2010, Jayme told that my play was going to be the first show in the four-week long festival. (Reality set in that I would have about three weeks to produce my show.) Between Thursday, April 29 and Monday, May 3, 2010, I created a Facebook event page for the auditions, updated my personal Web site to inform folks about the auditions, created a blog post on The Indie Daily about the upcoming auditions, posted an Examiner.com entry about the upcoming auditions, and emailed everyone and every College of Theatre in the Baltimore area to inform them about the upcoming auditions. On Monday, May 10, 2010, Strand Theater Company held an opening casting call for ALL of the FN Fest plays. A good 10 people showed up. Including my dear friend Naelis Ervin. She rocked it! On Tuesday, May 11, 2010, I began Facebook stalking messaging random women in the Washington, D.C./Baltimore metropolitan area who had the keywords “theatre” or “theater” in their profiles. On Thursday, May 13, 2010 (afternoon), Facebook banned me from sending out messages. Whenever I tried, an alert popped up saying something along the lines of “You have consistently abused this feature . . . When you are allowed to use this feature, please proceed with caution . . . continued misuse of this feature may result in deactivation of your account.” On Thursday, May 13, 2010 (later afternoon), I created ANOTHER Facebook account so that I could continue to stalk message random women in the Washington, D.C./Baltimore metropolitan area who had the keywords “theatre” or “theater” in their profiles. On Thursday, May 13, 2010 (evening), I began calling every woman in my cell phonebook begging asking them if they would be interested in auditioning for my play. I begged persuaded a dear friend of mine Donisha Adams to audition that night She rocked it! Valerie Handunge also agreed to audition the next day. She rocked it too! On Friday, May 14, 2010 (afternoon) my director Alvin E. Ford Jr. and I held two telephone auditions. One of which included cast member Nina Marti (who I found on Facebook!). She rocked it! On Friday, May 14, 2010 (evening) I received an email from Lauren Wardell, saying that she is interested in auditioning for the play on Sunday (Found her on Facebook too!). On Sunday, May 16, 2010 (afternoon) I attended open mic at Minás Gallery and Boutique, hoping to find FIERCE women there to potentially cast for my play. I performed a selection from my script; the audience of mostly men loved it. In a nutshell, my plan failed. I found no FIERCE potential cast members. On Sunday, May 16, 2010 (evening), Alvin and I attempted to hold two telephone auditions. One woman did not pick up the phone. The other lady (Lauren Wardell), rocked it! On Monday, May 17, 2010 (afternoon), I called Friend to the Strand Theater Company Jessica Baker to ask her if she would be interested in auditioning for my play. She said yes! On Monday, May 17, 2010 (evening) Alvin and I held our first rehearsal at Strand Theater. We had five out of the six roles casted. Yet, because of scheduling constraints only four out of the casted five could make it to our first rehearsal. During break, we called Jessica for her auditions. She rocked it! So, now we FINALLY had a FULL cast . . . NOT! On Tuesday, May 18, 2010 (afternoon) Valerie sent me an email, updating me on her schedule conflictions. I informed my director Alvin. On Tuesday, May 18, 2010 (afternoon-evening) I began Facebook stalking messaging women ONCE AGAIN who could possibly understudy for Valerie. Chrisovalandou Diakokomninos responded, and auditioned later that night! She rocked it! On Wednesday, May 19, 2010 (evening) we held our second rehearsal at Strand Theater Company, welcoming Chrisovalandou to the cast! Alvin also made the tough executive decision to cut Valerie from the play (not because she wasn’t AMAZING—which she most certainly is—but because her schedule conflicts prevented her from attending rehearsals. On Saturday, May 22, 2010, we held an 8-hour-long rehearsal at Strand Theater Company, and I cannot be more pleased with the progress of the show! Though it took a lot of phone calls, a lot of Facebook stalking messaging, and a lot of freaking out prayers, I wouldn’t trade my debut cast in for the world!! Donisha “Chocolate” Adams, Jessica “Vanilla” Baker, Chrisovalandou “Cinnamon” Diakokomninos, Naelis “Caramel” Ervin, Nina “Lemon” Marti, and Lauren “White Chocolate” Wardell—You ROCK Doin My Thang Thang 05/27/2010
 As the Strand Open House approaches (eeeeeeek!!! AHHHHHH!!!), I can’t help reflect on how far the theater has come in just 2 years. The first month of rehearsals for the very first show we did not have a stage, or seats, or lights. Just an empty building (with no occupancy license). The show was for the Baltimore Playwrights Festival, and the actors were a group of dedicated thespians who I had worked with on other projects. None of us knew what to expect when we finally opened the doors. I have to admit, most things come easily to me, I had always received good reviews when I directed at other community theaters, so I did not see why the Strand would be any different. A friend, Terry, donated (or let us borrow for an extended period of time) lights, the owner built us a stage and light poles, the city zoned us as a theater ($1500 later), and I broke the seal and painted on the walls. We opened July 17, 2008 with $200 in our bank account; right in the middle of Artscape. The band playing a block down from the theater was a minor distraction for patrons, as was the extreme echo inside the theater. As I looked around at the 4 audience members, they all had their hands over their ears. That didn’t seem right. Hmmm. Then came the reviews. I knew I was a shoe in. I worked really hard, and I pretty much had a golden touch when it came to theater. Oh, yes, those sweet sweet reviews. It was devastating. One of the first reviewers commented on how late we started (with good reason…but as I have learned, no one cares). The echo was mentioned quite a bit, and pretty much the shear lackluster quality of the play itself. The rest of the run resulted in houses ranging from 5-15 people per night. The rest of the season was a hit or miss, with a lot of learning along the way. At some point though I just threw up my hands and said “f-it.” This theater is here for me to enjoy and do what I will. Crappy reviews, difficult actors, very little help, and no free time for my sanity…I am going to do whatever the F in A hole S in your B I want to do. And there we are. Today. As I started to shift my focus more toward accomplishing the mission, and when I finally gave into the fact that the theater came first, not my free time, I did not resent it as much. The theater’s voice was heard. As the Strand moves forward there is so much to look forward to. Whenever I fall back into “woe is me,” I am able to think about the awesome group of artists that volunteer and want to see us a success. So I suck it up and mop the floor, and think about how easy it has come to me. Strand Theater Blog 05/25/2010
Favorite Quotes for Starting a Theater Sarah Curnoles, Founding Member of the Strand Theater, shares with us her favorite quotes about starting a theater. Don't forget about the Strand Open House: Celebrating Community on May 29 from 4-8p. This will mark the end of the Strand's second season! If nobody will put your play on, put it on yourself. - David Hare Try to leave out the part that [viewers] tend to skip. Think of what you skip reading a novel: thick paragraphs of prose you can see have too many words in them. - Elmore Leonard Do back exercises. Pain is distracting. - Margaret Atwood Have regrets. They are fuel. - Geoff Dyer Do not place a photograph of your favourite author [or actor/director] on your desk, especially if the author [or actor/director] is one of the famous ones who committed suicide. - Roddy Doyle Have fun. - Anne Enright Don't take any shit if you can possibly help it. - Richard Ford Don't wait for inspiration. Discipline is the key. - Esther Freud Be without fear. - A.L. Kennedy Are you serious about this? Then get an accountant. - Hilary Mantel The prerequisite for me is to keep my well of ideas full. This means living as full and varied a life as possible, to have my antennae out all the time. - Michael Morpurgo Think big and stay particular. - Andrew Motion Keep a light, hopeful heart. But expect the worst. - Joyce Carol Oates Get lucky. Stay lucky. - Ian Rankin The nearest I have to a rule is a Post-it on the wall in front of my desk saying "Faire et se taire" (Flaubert), which I translate for myself as "Shut up and get on with it." - Helen Smith Tell the truth through whichever veil comes to hand – but tell it. Resign yourself to the lifelong sadness that comes from never being satisfied. - Zadie Smith Stop feeling sorry for yourself. - Colm Tóibín Turn up for work. Discipline allows creative freedom. No discipline equals no freedom. - Jeanette Winterson Ignore all proferred rules and create your own, suitable for what you want to say. - Michael Moorcock |
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