Please visit my website: www.graceduff.net/Brian to see samples of my work and to learn more about me.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

"a Western Melodrama Told in Spaghetti & Song"

...wait, you're writing what now?

This:



Still confused? Come out tomorrow night to the Trestle Inn Thursday at 7 PM and... well, you'll probably still be confused, but you'll have a great time and maybe I'll share my latest libation creation with you: a white Jamaican.

Details at the Facebook event page.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

BRATSHIT CRAZY.....it's a thing.

Double post day... you're welcome!

So, I need to stop being such a big, dumb negative jerk and start liking myself more.

I realized that as I was writing my last stupid post. (I can do this all day, people, ALL DAY!)

What really made me stop and think was here I am bashing myself while I've got four amazing singers/musicians right now working on something I helped to create, and it's a disservice to them when I sit here and whine about "am I legit?". So.... Peter, Jess, Kevin and Keith- I am sorry I suck at being positive. (like I said... all. day.) You guys deserve better than that. You deserve someone who is promoting the crap out of what you're doing because they're so stoked to see you guys do it and be a part of it with you.

And after an excessively long preamble, I will be that dood.

COME SEE BRATSHIT CRAZY!

What is that, you ask? Why are you swearing in your read-it-to-my-toddler-at-bedtime-blog, you query? Shut up already and just tell me the details, fucker, you shout at your screen even though I can't hear you because of our linear relationship to the time-space continuum?  Really, more swearing, you repeat (sorta)? Isn't this joke getting a little old, you implore?

Yes... awhile ago. But dead horses are made for beating.

Bratshit Crazy is a series of developmental performance of emerging artists. "A little to the right of an open mic and a little to the left of a traditional theatre showcase." Amazing artists will be sharing their freshest stuff. Songs, scenes, who knows what. The only way to find out is to come to the Tressle Inn THIS THURSDAY at 7 PM.

Why am I telling you to do this? Because I'm one of those amazing artists, and I've con.....vinced 4 other wonderful artists to prepare the first song from my upcoming show. That's right, your fist peak at The Last Plot in Revenge!

Death! Love! Accordions!

It's all there for you when you come out for a Brat-style potluck performance!

-BGD

"I got plenty to confess, but better to wait till it’s over, get it all out at once."

Confession: I often feel like someone is about to expose me as a playwrighting fraud. This rears its head at ugly and awkward times: when getting dressed to go to one of my events, ("Is this what a playwright wears, or just someone trying to look like a playwright?") after I meet creative staff for the first time, ("I totally didn't sound like a playwright, what playwright says that?") and anytime the words 'method' or 'style' come up in terms of the words I put down on paper and ask people to perform in front of other people who have paid money to see it.

...because I haven't been 'trained'. And as a write that, I can't help but think of the poor dumb mutt who isn't house broken and just looks forlornly at his own poop when you come home, suddenly realizing that 'Oh, that probably doesn't belong here... But where should I put it?' That's how my work is when I stop to try and catalog it. I've taken some really awesome classes, and I don't want to take away anything from the amazing teachers who have invested their time in me. They rock.

And would the embossed piece of paper, the extra line on my resume... would that make me feel legitimate? Or is it a slow wearing away? Is it something that I have to accept? And, if so, how do I really accept that when asked about my style or my method, the most precise answer is, "I dunno." I'm not very well read; in every class I've taken, there's been a 'basic tool' that is brand new to me and that I fall in love with. And when I sit down to write, I just start writing. I don't have a real plan, I just make stuff up that feels right. That's my method.

I'm trying to get better, but it still feels false. An example: I don't use outlines. But I've heard PLAYWRIGHTS do. So recently, I tried using an outline. It looked like this...





















Which was entertaining over coffee and raisins, but only showed me all the scenes I hadn't written, not what I needed to write. Also... I lost half the cards and most of them came untaped, so my methodology at very least was lacking.

The thing that did help me figure out the rest of the play was this...
 2012-11-19 01.07.23.jpg

Which, you know, isn't really a, um, thing. But that's what I do... oh, and try to figure out what the heck to wear.

-BGD

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

"Ain’t no one deserves rest."

It feels like awhile since I've written. Maybe it hasn't been in real-time, but in internet time, it's probably been years. In my defense, a lot has happened that I will now skim over to try to bring you up to speed. Why do I do this instead of either backdating posts and really going into depth or just speaking about what's going on right now.... I have no clue.

A review of my last several days: (set to music....um, I don't know, hit shuffle on your iTunes- that's the song that is intended to underscore here. Oooooh, how conceptual!)

- Met with a bunch of folks, including the brilliant Adrienne McKay (who also has an amazing laugh. If I could, I would hire her just to be in my audience. On the other hand, she might get bored and the absence of her laugh would probably feel like a massive gaping void in the play.... bad idea, moving on) about a variety of projects, including a dream devised work, (I can hear Davie White groaning from here...) contract-y stuff for Revenge, director-y stuff for Revenge, fundraising-y stuff for Revenge, and a random ten-minute play. Oh! And an old play that I'm totally reinvested to re-write now. (give a holler all you Callie-lovers! She's coming back!!)

- Speaking of hollers, or hollas if you will, got into a bit of a tiff over my use of the phrase "dear non-existent reader". Which I meant as a funny, slightly self-deprecating, but mostly a commentary on the world of blogs, but apparently has been interpreted by some of my loved ones as both self-destructive and insulting. This comes from at least one person who I didn't know even read my blog. In fact, I don't know if anyone reads my blog because I have zero comments. So, dear non-existent reader, prove me wrong.

-  Had another incredible meeting with my writer's group, The Foundry, where I got to present some of play. Presenting pages in a writer's group, for those of you who don't know, is a sweaty experience. At least for me. And it's filled with all sorts of neurotic quirks... So I'm never really thrilled to do it, even if it is one of my favorite things to do. Here's the point in our story where I'd really like to gush about what an awesome and supportive group I have, because they really made it easy. There were some very jangly bits in my play, but I felt so energized walking away. I felt really good and was able to just have a night where I was happy with things. So.... thank you.

- Got to hear a full version of the song for Bratshit Crazy... and it rocks.

- Got all of my rockstars for Bratshit Crazy.... and they rock.

- Found out I might not be able to go to Bratshit Crazy... and that doesn't rock.

And that's sort of it. Besides life (it's okay), work (hahaha.... don't ask me if you don't want to hear mean things.) Thanksgiving (gobble-gobble-gobble) and the family. (Awww man!)

-BGD

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

FIRST DRAFT IS FINISHED

I have no insight today. Just thought you should know that... That being I finished my first draft, not that I don't have any-

Damnit.

Well, that moment's been ruined.

......*sound of one of those sad little noisemakers* (but secretly I am very happy.)

-BGD

Sunday, November 11, 2012

"Told you I wanted a lock"

Want to know what helps to finish a script? Writing another one when you should be working on it. Oh wait... word from the home office says that *actually* doesn't help at all. Huh, who knew?

Clearly, I did not. Today I found this wonderful little ten minute living inside an old character from another play and a bit of scenework from Seth Bauer's playwrighting class. The script became so compelling, that I had to get it down. And I'm super-pleased with the work. I struggled little and it just felt good. And that's great and all... but it's not my script.

At least I'm distracting myself with other writing?

-BGD

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Dear Universe,

Please don't do anything interesting or important until next Friday, I have a draft to finish.

Thanks!
-BGD

Friday, November 9, 2012

"Cause nothing could be sweeter..."

I hate waiting for things. It's not that I'm impatient, I just... okay there has to be a good word for this. C'mon, I'm a writer. THINK! What's the awesome way to say that I'm impatient? Ummm... nevermind, just give it to me now!

The "it" in this case, dear non-existent reader, is my composer's first pass at our very first song. He sent me a little sample after I roughed out some lyrics and it totally cracked this smile across my face and I'm so stoked to see what the end product is. It's like Christmas Eve.

And a fun story about my childhood is I threw up on Christmas Eve from anticipation. So... there's that possibility. But after the week I've had-

Let's pause here for a moment to talk about how I got so depressed over my job in the middle of the week, that I texted friends demanding they tell me great things about me or that "they" suck. My two favorites were my sweetsweet friend texted me "You are marvelous. You are funny and smart and nerdy and caring and delightful. And whoever is making you feel crappy SUCKS and I will punch them in their stupid ass-faces." Also..."You deserve unicorns." The fact that I had to solicit them didn't even bother me, I was so down.

-after the week I've had. I deserve something cool. And Peter.... Oh, another piece of news. My composer's name is Peter Gaffney. I will try to describe him more in depth later, but for now I will say he's a wild-haired accordionist with a great sense of fearlessness and fun. He's deeply understanding and really quick at putting things together. Basically, I love Peter and want to pet him every time I see him. (good thing Peter doesn't read this though, that'd be awkward. So don't tell him, non-existent reader) Back to the point... he said he'd send me something today or tomorrow.

ChristmasEveChristmasEveChristmasEveChristmasEve!

-BGD

Monday, November 5, 2012

I intended my next post to be about the difficult balance of having a child and writing a play, which basically comes down to the nagging or very immediate feeling that you are always ignoring one for the other. Like my recent experience in hurricane Sandy where many writerfriends of mine touted the forced time to write. I spent it keeping peace between myself, my two year old, my wife and my deadline.

I feel like no one won.

But at 11:15 at night, standing in the colder than chilly but not bitter November weather, after completing a 12 hour workday and missing my bus by about ten paces... I don't want to talk about that.

Because I am angry.

Maybe it was the political back and forth I had avoided with my Dad until today. Maybe its pre-election jitters. Maybe its the 14 hr. day I have tomorrow. Maybe its missing my kid and wife...
But I should be happy. I made headway today on a tough section of the script, and used tools I rarely do. (The impossible for one: throwing a flaming cow head through a window) My daughter has been happy to see me lately, and that hasn't always been the case, even at two and a half. But my J-O-B wears me down. Missing the 11 pm trolley added 30 minutes to my commute, missing the 11:07 bus by ten paces.... that just sucked.

So how does a playwright survive? (both as an artist and a person) Tonight, I have no idea.

-BGD