| Walk Away: This Writer's Process |
| Monday, 01 June 2009 |
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In the past few weeks I’ve been asked to describe my writing process: where do my ideas come from, how do I make up the characters, and how do I know when I’m done? When I first started talking about this I thought my head was going to explode. I mean, who really cares? But then I realized when I met abstract painter, Kyle Jordre, last month that I basically asked him the same questions. Where do my ideas come from? I gather art magazines, rip out pages that seem important and put them in a banker’s box. I also put postcards, buttons, cards, CD’s and anything else that seems like it could be important into the box. I make a soundtrack. Sometimes the soundtrack comes first. I start a spiral notebook and take notes. Kyle says I draw; I say I doodle. I generally have no idea what most of it means. How do I make up characters? Usually, honestly, a character shows up in the dialogue already playing in my head. We hang out for a few months – on occasion it’s been years. I find out what’s in their medicine cabinet, refrigerator, and wallet/purse. I find out what they do for love, and what they do for money. I find out where they’re broken. How do I know when I’m done? At some point, I just have to walk away. I don’t like the analogy of giving birth, but this process is similar to dropping off your kid on the first day of kindergarten. With both of my kids, that day was exhilarating and terrifying. I knew they were in good hands, that they would be re-shaped by new influences, and would grow independent of what I had given them to that point. I walked away. Leaving the building, I was flooded with doubt: did I do the right thing? I shared these thoughts for the first time with another writer a few weeks ago, and he asked me, “Seriously? You do that for every play you write – even the 10-min plays?” Pretty much. The ones that are any good. I did write a Twitter play on the fly once. The three 60-second plays each come from this process. And how much time I spend with characters does not equate to the length of the piece. Not by a long shot. My long-time friend, San Diego-based artist Chris Reilly, sensing my impending migraine, called this morning. He encouraged me to be honest and authentic. “Make it personal; make it real. Then you’ll be okay with it.” The truth is, I excavate that percolator box for each play. I start a spiral notebook for each play. I spend time with the characters in each play. I begin, I work, and in the end, I walk away. |
