Thursday, October 27, 2011

They Were The Ones

By Akin Salawu, member of 2008 Emerging Writers Group

Another sobering 2 hour depiction of yet another crime against humanity allows us all to shake our heads and feel superior as lights fade on actor friends whose Law & Order under 5s were grossly overlooked by the Emmys.

20something guy and 20something girl banter over how they are not right for each other and then lights go down on 3 hours of masturbatory but witty repartee covering the confusion of love and being an adult.

Lights fade on 3 hours of a spooge covered one-person-show that never bothered to be about anything other than that one actor on stage.


We’ve all seen and read these new plays many times and I’ve certainly written variations of these old standards. Haven’t you? While we are all technically proficient craftsmen (& women), most new plays I’ve come across in the past few years are quite underwhelming.

We gripe about the lack of new plays being produced, but I wonder if we are not aspiring to create work that is so piercing that it warrants a theater taking a chance on. If we are honest, our generation of emerging playwrights is fairly underwhelming.

Are we just aspiring to be commercial?

Are we aspiring to be socially acceptable?

Are we aspiring to be digestible?

Are we aspiring to be accessible?

Am I just projecting?

Is it really enough to just be saying something in a world being raped by chaos? Artists have got to be doing something; or at the very least trying to do something.


When you tell someone a joke you have 2 objectives:

1. You want them to be affected in some way.
2. You want your contribution to the dialogue to somehow alter the dialogue.

While there are certainly plays that do aspire to have an impact & are part of some dialogue, a lot of plays fall into that “it’s good because I made it” category.


Am I the only one feeling as though most new plays are page after page of grand scale cold busting. (In Central New Jersey - and I think most everywhere else – cold busting someone is calling them out on their shit or putting them down.)


It’s like we’re all on the playground at recess applauding the kid with the best witty cold busting comebacks. Could it be that we are simply following the wave that has newscasters and reality TV stars vying to be the best cold buster? If we are part of this wave, it is that much more urgent that we theater artists break away from the tide and offer up some vision.

Where would the world be if instead of saying, “I have a dream”, Martin Luther King had said, “I’ve some witty repartee”?


Albert Camus has this gorgeous quote:


“When you have once seen the glow of happiness on the face of a beloved person, you know that a man can have no vocation but to awaken that light on the faces surrounding him. In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”


What if we aspired to awaken that light on the faces surrounding us?


One Public Theater EWG reading quite succinctly awakened a light in me. It was a story that showed each of us in the audience something about ourselves. It lit that inner candle every human being prays never goes out.


And that’s why we go to the theater. We go to the theater because we sense there is something more to us. And we sense that artists will help us stroke that itty bitty flame.


Imagine if that was what set this generation of “emerging writers” apart from the pack? They were Bat-Shit-Crazy Cold Busting Champions of Witty Repartee, but…

…they were also the ones.

The ones who flicked the switch.

The ones who opened the window.

The ones who stroked the flame.


The ones who awakened that light…



Akin Salawu revised his EWG play I Stand Corrected in Rising Circle Theater's InkTank Playlabs. Akin is currently working on a new stageplay about sex trafficking in New Jersey and a screenplay loosely based on the experiences of this brilliant & revolutionary doctor up at Harvard. Akin publicly endorses 5AM bike rides, Sabon bath salts, & honest mistakes.

This post is part of a weekly series from the Emerging Writers Group community of playwrights. The EWG is two-year playwriting fellowship at The Public Theater seeking to target playwrights at the earliest stages of their careers. In so doing, The Public hopes to create an artistic home for a diverse and exceptionally talented group of up-and-coming playwrights.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Colorblind Casting or Color-Consciousness?

By Dominique Morisseau, member of the 2011 Emerging Writers Group

It’s time for an Equity Principal Audition (otherwise known as an EPA) for a new play. Actors of color are skimming the breakdowns. They see something like the following:

KAREN – Black, Latino, or Asian woman, 35, quiet, shy, and a loving heart.

All of the Black, Latino, and Asian women from their 20’s through their 50’s strongly consider attending (unless they’re already among the masses who have completely given up on EPAs, and with good reason. It’s gotten them little to no results.)


Now, rewind. Let’s do that again. EPA for a new play. Actors of color are skimming the breakdowns. They see something like the following:

KAREN – 35-year old woman, quiet, shy, and a loving heart.

Most of the Black, Latino, and Asian women from their 20’s through their 50’s will not consider attending that EPA (even if they are not among the masses who have given up on them completely).

Why? Because there is an un-spoken rule in the theater that no one is talking about. Character descriptions in plays, which may eventually be shared in casting breakdowns, are coding a tone of racial inequality in the theater. Unless race is specified, we actors of color (yes, I am also one of them) know that we are most-likely not going to be seriously considered for the role, because no racial specification usually translates to “white”.

I mentioned this to my fellow EWG playwrights recently and there was an uproar in the room. Half of them couldn’t believe it. The other half could and had just never considered it before.

Am I jumping off the deep end here? Making a blanket accusation? You may think so. But I ask you to consider where there may be truth in this claim. Think about the casting breakdowns you see. (If you rarely see a breakdown, try skimming through some on the various casting websites.) Is race specified? And if not, then why are those racially un-specific characters often cast white? Does that not subconsciously send a message that the “everyman” is white? Is that not some un-intentional (or intentional- you be the judge) upholding of race privilege?


I challenge my playwriting peers to think about the ways in which we are describing characters. How specific are you in your descriptions? If I am writing a play about my community in Detroit, I’m crystal clear about who those people are and what they look and sound like. Therefore, my descriptions are often going to indicate “Black man” or “Black woman”. If you are basing your character off of a woman from a predominately white community, do you have a preference for her race? If so, be unafraid to own that. If your character is white in your mind and that’s what you intend, I don’t think there is any shame in that. We are writing real people, after all. I say, OWN it. Could it not encourage playwrights to be clear and specific about the kind of people they are writing? Distinguish the race of the character. Think about their speech and their dialogue. Is it reflective of a particular cultural rhythm? Or is it intentionally neutral? And if the character is truly not any particular race, try noting your descriptions something like this:

KAREN- Any Race. 35 year old woman, quiet, shy, and loving heart.

See what may happen. Let that get into the casting breakdown. See if you get a different pool of actors at your audition. If a white character is envisioned, then state it in the breakdown, just as people of color are specified. If the race is truly any race, then let’s stop making the unspoken “everyman or everywoman” white. And then strongly consider allowing the casting to reflect the diversity of the true everyman/woman.


If theaters and its practitioners are charged to “specify race” rather than “hide from race”, then we will all communally be responsible for acknowledging some major racial disparities in the theater. It will be blaring in Black and White (no pun intended) that a theater is or is not supporting actors of color in the work that they are producing on their stages. It will be undeniable because the breakdowns will show it. And if we are sincere in the EOE statements at the bottom of casting calls that state “We do not discriminate based on race, gender, sexual orientation, etc”, then let’s put some real action into standing behind that statement.


We are all a part of this continuum of theater, and ensuring that it reflects the accuracies of the changing world around us is our collective responsibility. In NYC especially, I do not know of one place that you will find a community of exclusively white people that do not have to engage on any work or play level with people of color. Playwrights, let’s write the truth of the world around us, and put it in ink, so that the rest of the theater community can respond in-kind.


Dominique Morisseau is a member of the 2011 EWG and the Women's Project Playwright's Lab and is a fellow in the 2011-2012 Lark Playwrights Workshop. She is currently developing a three-play cycle on her beloved hometown of Detroit. The first of the three, DETROIT '67, received a reading in the Public EWG Spotlight Series and the 2011 Lark Playwrights' Week. She was also a runner-up for the 2011 Princess Grace Award. dominiquemorisseau@yahoo.com / or catch her on Facebook!

This post is part of a weekly series from the Emerging Writers Group community of playwrights. The EWG is two-year playwriting fellowship at The Public Theater seeking to target playwrights at the earliest stages of their careers. In so doing, The Public hopes to create an artistic home for a diverse and exceptionally talented group of up-and-coming playwrights.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Weighing in on Dower vs. Brooks

By Sevan Kaloustian Greene, member of the 2011 Emerging Writers Group

Hot on the heels of starting this blog another wildfire of conversation has sparked over on the Arena Stage's blog stemming from a panel discussion at the PlayPenn Conference led by David Dower in which Hal Brooks, a well-established director, wagged his finger over the issue of Arena's elimination of their open submission policy.

At the heart of Dower's argument is that, essentially, open submission policies are pointless because of the lack of manpower to read through and properly respond to all the scripts coming in. Instead, Arena has decided to continue and pursue relationships with playwrights they already know or those that are recommended to them. He goes into further detail in his post "Dear Hal Brooks."

Brooks quite astutely calls Dower on the holes in the argument in his response where he quite rightly asks: Then how do we find the emerging and new voices? He provides airtight anecdotes and arguments over the need to find and support the next voices of the stage page.

This is exactly the kind of issue/debate I wanted the EWG section of this blog to be around for. It's an important, even vital, issue for emerging playwrights. It's essential that we not only respond to the Arena postings (and please feel free to share your thoughts here as well), but also that we spread this conversation because all people in the business should have an opinion about this.

Hop on over to the Arena blog, check out what Dower and Brooks have to say, comment, spread the word. Have an opinion and make it known - on this blog or that one - otherwise, things won't change.


A Pre-Mid-Career Playwright's Response to David and Hal

By Chris Cragin, member of the 2008 Emerging Writers Group

Is a theater company’s value determined by the quality of work they produce, or by their contribution to the artistic growth and development of the American Theater? If the former is true, a theater that only produces work by established and mid-career writers, but does it well, is valuable because of the inspiration and creative engagement it offers its audiences. If the latter is true, then a theater’s ability to discover, nurture, and deliver new voices to the dialogue of American Theater will determine its lasting impact. I’m not a theater historian. You tell me.

As a playwright, I appreciate the transparency of David Dower’s new closed submissions policy at Arena Stage. Personally, if no one on the artistic staff of a theater is going to read my work, I would rather redirect my submission efforts elsewhere. Why would I waste time trying to muscle my work into an impenetrable institution when there are smaller theater companies chomping at the bit to align themselves with a playwright they believe has the fresh talent and drive to rise to the top?

The needy artist in me loves Hal Brooks’ passion for opening the American Theater’s kingdom gates to new voices, new writers. Thank God for directors who get a thrill from the grueling process of directing new plays. Where would any of us be without them?!

When I write plays, I don’t think about what they will contribute to American Theater, so perhaps I shouldn’t hold this same standard to producing organizations. I write stories that move me, change me, open up some hidden part of my soul. Why shouldn’t producers be allowed this same pleasure? I can only offer that part of what allows me to find those gems that become my plays is a certain amount of openness, a belief that gems can appear in the most unlikely places. If I only searched for gems in jewelry stores, I doubt I would ever find anything unique and special enough to write a play about. Theater is about the delight of surprise. That’s what makes the magic.


Chris Cragin is a 2008 member of the EWG. Her play, A GIRL NAMED ESTHER (developed with Emily Zemple and Jonathan Roberts) is opening in Baltimore this fall at the E.M.P. Collective's new multi-media performance space.

Cinderella Solutions

By Pia Wilson, member of the 2008 Emerging Writers Group

I am Cinderella. Sort of. I had self-produced a play and been involved in a few small festivals before I applied to The Public’s Emerging Writers Group. I was looking at The Public’s website because in my naiveté, I thought The Public would just love to produce the play I was about to finish. It was a great, political play, right up their alley. I thought they’d read it, love it, produce it, and I’d go down in the annals of playwriting history. Then, I saw a blurb about the inaugural EWG, and I thought it’d be easier to get into the group than to get The Public to produce my play outright. Again, naive.

My references for my application: my best friend (who also happened to be my supervisor at work) and a fellow self-producing playwright (because I figured I needed to have someone theatrical as a reference). Still, I got into the group (and I beat out more than 700 other applicants to do it)! I didn’t have real connections, just hope and a really good play. Thank goodness The Public and Time Warner wanted to develop a program that gave access writers who didn’t have traditional access to the broader theater world. Thank goodness they had an open submission policy. Thank goodness I didn’t have to be vetted by developmental conferences and readings and the myriad of other things I only learned about as I entered the inside of the theatrical caste system.

I was one of the great unwashed playwrights. That’s why I get so disappointed when I hear about exclusionary policies at theaters. The latest disappointment came when reading about Arena’s closed submission policy. It’s exclusionary and a step in the wrong direction.

Here’s an idea that is revolutionary in its simplicity: the purpose of theaters (big and small) is to present theatrical works of merit on the stage for an audience. That’s it. Now, you may be saying to yourself, “What about making money?” What about it? Would a theater that existed solely on the gifts of one mega-patron and never sold tickets be any less of a theater than one that earns money through more traditional manners? No, not as long as they presented theatrical works of merit to an audience. Would a theater that never presented a single play and instead held a bazaar every day and twice on Sundays be less of a theater? Yes. It wouldn’t be a theater at all but rather a theater-like edifice.

So, if a theater’s sole purpose is to present artistic works of merit, then logic would dictate that finding the best new work would be an imperative, not a nuisance. It would also seem to dictate using as many avenues as possible to find fresh, intelligent, new work.

If I was looking for all the diamonds in the world, I wouldn’t start at the diamond mines. Those diamonds are easy to find; everybody knows where those are. By searching high and low in strange places, by letting communities know I was on the lookout for rocks, sure, I’d get a lot of worthless rabble, but I would also get the shining stones I was seeking. I’d take those stones and combine them with some I found in the diamond mines, and boy, would I be rich!

Theaters need to invest in different systems for finding new work. Scouting at smaller venues is great. Combine that with reading submissions, talking to communities, competitions, theater circuses, playwright wrestling matches, whatever it takes ...

Perhaps instead of shutting submission down, a better solution would be to ask for more. Perhaps we need a new centralized, national submission center as big as the library of Alexandria where every play is read and evaluated. Perhaps we need to have a theatrical congress that meets and exchanges information about exciting new plays that have come into their mailboxes, been put up in community centers or the local pubs or favorite indie theaters.

Let’s do something new.

I know it is hard to divest from the status quo, especially when you benefit most from it. But artistic directors needs to invest in ideas, not just friends of friends or the chosen few. We need to end the culture of scarcity we have and add some place settings to the table. Let’s innovate. Let’s diversify. Let’s invite the barbarians into the house.

It’s not easy reading piles and piles of plays. But if it is your purpose to present artistic works (and you haven’t decided to only present plays from 30 years ago or longer), then reading plays needs to be a higher priority. Systems are invented all the time. It’s not enough to say something is difficult and give up on it.

What would have happened if Cinderella’s fairy godmother had closed her wish submission policy? There would have been one lame ball, and the prince would have married one of the town’s accepted socialites. It could be a happy ending ... sort of.


Pia Wilson is a member of the inaugural Emerging Writers Group, and her first book report was on Cinderella.



Why We Matter

By Sevan Kaloustian Greene, member of the 2011 Emerging Writers Group

Look, let's be real, reading plays is not always fun because there are a plethora of less-than-ideal writers and plays out there (or to be blunt, shitty writing). I've been a reader for a couple of different programs and I have the utmost respect for literary managers and their departments. I do not envy their jobs because it truly has to be a labor of love. I've walked through the Public Theater halls enough times to be astounded by the sheer volume of scripts that have been read and are waiting on the docket. Sure, it's a lot easier to go to the script that a peer recommends. I get that logic; it helps weed through the chafe. But if all we do is support established playwrights with a short eye to upcoming ones then we are forcing theatre into a vapid stagnation.

I'm a new voice in every single way. I came to NYC as a professional actor and very accidentally fell into playwriting. I was not known as a playwright and had no street cred as one when I was accepted into the EWG program. But they saw something there in my neophyte little play (ugly writing warts and all) and took a vested interest in getting to know me and develop me as a writer. Very few people do that. Our business is one of relationships; it has to be. With an overabundance of actors, directors, and writers it's hard to figure out who has the goods without feeling like we are wasting our time, so I get the desire to cut out the extra time and just work on jumping on previously built bridges.


But there has to be a balance of some kind. Most new playwrights, look to regional theatres and new play programs to cut their teeth and to get their work out there. In New York it's become a Sisyphean task to get produced or recognized without a celebrity actor or director attached or without direct heavenly intervention. Most of the exciting new work is being done off-Broadway (thought a little less each day), off-off-Broadway, and in regional theatres where the fetishism of gimmicky theatre has not reached.


Yes, there are a lot of new playwrights popping up every day, but taking the time to look through and find those gems has to be worthwhile. How else will we ride the zeitgeist of theatrical revolutions if we keep bringing the old war horses out repeatedly? God knows I have an uphill climb as an emerging playwright who is also a playwright of color, but it would certainly make it a little easier if I knew that I could rely on relationships AND programs that are seriously interested in meeting someone they have no awareness of at all.


Sevan, an NYC actor-playwright, is a 2011 EWG member. And he's a foreigner. His plays babel, Doon,Say Something and Narrow Daylight will have readings this fall. For more info: www.sevangreene.com.


The Emerging Writers Group is two-year playwriting fellowship at The Public Theater seeking to target playwrights at the earliest stages of their careers. In so doing, The Public hopes to create an artistic home for a diverse and exceptionally talented group of up-and-coming playwrights.

Friday, October 14, 2011

My Foray Into the World of the Rock Musical and What it Did to Me

By Chris Cragin, member of the 2008 Emerging Writers Group

I am a playwright for a reason. My talent is words, story, character. I took ten years of piano, two years of guitar, four years of private voice, and I never achieved above average competence in any of them. From this I had long concluded that I should limit my writing to straight plays. But then I found out that my favorite singer/songwriter, Don Chaffer, was looking for a book writer to collaborate with him on a rock musical, and before I could talk myself out of it I had vigorously thrown my musically incompetent hat into the rock musical ring. Five minutes into our first creative session I was struck with the painful awareness--Don and I were speaking completely different languages. Don would offer, "you know it's like early eighties funk meets Eastern European electronica." I would reply, "that sounds great," not knowing what the hell he was talking about. We continued like this for over a year.

It was fun, though. We discovered that for all our differences, philosophically we had a lot in common, which allowed us to move forward quickly on story and character. But when we talked craft there remained a chasm of artistic form, lingo, and process between us. We both found that in order to bridge that chasm we would have to trust each other's artistic instincts. I surmise that this was easier for me, Don's fan of over a decade, than for him, the fanee.

For example, I sent Don the first draft of our climactic scene in which Cowboy Jesus, (an odd sort of God figure handed down to Danderhauler, our protagonist, by his eccentric alcoholic father), challenges Danderhauler to let him dig out the bullet in Dan's stomach with a "rusty ole pair of pliers." "Do you want me to leave it in, or dig it out?" Cowboy Jesus asks him somewhat unsympathetically. On instinct, Don wrote a song to replace this dialogue. He sent me the lyrics and a demo. I thought they were brilliant--except for the second verse which detailed the three steps to putting down a dog. I couldn't, for the life of me, understand why Cowboy Jesus was talking about putting a dog down in what could be the last few seconds of our protagonist's life and so I suggested Don might consider re-writing the second verse. Don affirmed my confusion but offered that the digression was intentional and potentially great if I could properly set it up with dialogue. So, I had a chat with Cowboy Jesus and here is what he and I came up with.
COWBOY JESUS
You want me to dig it out or leave it in?

DANDERHAULER
Huh?

COWBOY JESUS
The bullet.

DANDERHAULER
You mean with that rusty old pair of pliers
there?

COWBOY JESUS
Only thing I could find. Sorry.

DANDERHAULER
Will I live? If you do it?

COWBOY JESUS
WELL THAT'S A FUNNY QUESTION WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT, ISN'T
IT?
CAUSE LIFE SEEMS LONG WHEN YOU'RE YOUNG BUT YOU GET OLDER
AND IT STARTS MOVIN' LICKETY SPLIT
YOU START OFF FEELIN' LIKE YOU GOT ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD
JUST TO SIT AROUND AND THINK
BUT THEN IT SUDDENLY SEEMS IT PASSED YOU BY
BEFORE YOU EVEN HAD A CHANCE TO BLINK
THIS IS JUST ASHES TO ASHES
THIS IS JUST ALL FALL DOWN
SO DO YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE IT IN
OR DO YOU WANT ME TO DIG IT OUT?

DANDERHAULER
What I mean is, I'm wonderin' if you've ever
done anything like this before?

COWBOY JESUS
You mean like a doctor?

DANDERHAULER
Exactly.

COWBOY JESUS
Well, no. But I did have to put down a dog
once.

COWBOY JESUS (cont'd)
THERE'S ONLY THREE THINGS THAT YOU NEED BEFORE YOU PUT AN OLD
DOG SIX FEET DEEP
ONE YOU GOTTA GET SOMETHING THAT'LL TAKE A POOCH FROM WIDE
AWAKE TO SOUND ASLEEP
TWO, YOU GOTTA GET SOMETHING THAT'LL STOP THE HEART FROM BOOM
BOOM-BOOMIN' LIKE A BIG BASS DRUM
AND THREE YOU GOTTA GET SOMETHING THAT'LL MAKE THE BODY RELAX
SO THE MUSCLES DON'T SEIZE AGAINST THE REAPER WHEN HE COMES
THIS IS JUST ASHES TO ASHES
THIS IS JUST ALL FALL DOWN
SO DO YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE IT IN
OR DO YOU WANT ME TO DIG IT OUT?

As I wrote that scene, Cowboy Jesus evolved into a character that is both utterly simple and utterly complex. This became his defining characteristic.

Don and I's musical, SON OF A GUN, (with additional music by Don's insanely talented wife Lori Chaffer), has now been in development for about three years. It was given an initial stage reading through a grant from The Drama League, a subsequent abridged concert reading at Joe's Pub, and further developed at the Eugene O'Neill National Music Theater Conference this past summer.

The process of collaborating with Don and Lori on SON OF A GUN fulfilled artistic cravings I never knew I had. Granted, I was lucky. My collaborators were smarter, more gifted, and more experienced in their field (rock music) than I was in my own. But it wasn't just about my pride in the quality of work we produced together. Working with a songwriter, a really good songwriter, changed, or maybe I should say enhanced, my own writing process.

Good songwriters are microscopically precise, yet mysteriously indirect. They understand the power of subtext because their music breathes in it. The space between the words rises and falls as much or more than the spoken language. And there is a yearning in music--at least in Don's and Lori's music--a reach, and occasionally a leap or even a fall, that extends beyond words, beyond image. I'm not saying this doesn't exist in plays without music, it's there in the brilliant ones. I'm just saying that collaborating with musicians challenged me to dig deeper into the human heart and mind, and reminded me that there is an entire universe of the soul that exists without words. That universe can be captured, at least fleetingly. And it can transcend the limits of my own creativity.


Chris Cragin is a 2008 member of the EWG. Her play, A GIRL NAMED ESTHER (developed with Emily Zemple and Jonathan Roberts) is opening in Baltimore this fall at the E.M.P. Collective's new multi-media performance space.

This post is part of a weekly series from the Emerging Writers Group community of playwrights. The EWG is two-year playwriting fellowship at The Public Theater seeking to target playwrights at the earliest stages of their careers. In so doing, The Public hopes to create an artistic home for a diverse and exceptionally talented group of up-and-coming playwrights.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

On Creating Enchantment or Hamlet and Pork Rinds

By Pia Wilson, member of the 2008 Emerging Writers Group

My grandmother was sitting on one of the hard wood pews at little Canaan Baptist Church in Fayette, Alabama. The church secretary was reading the sick list, asking the congregation to lift up prayers for health on behalf of each member mentioned. As the secretary rattled off one name Bob Hughes – my grandmother felt the flush of embarrassment in her cheeks. She couldn’t imagine who would put this man on the list. Bob Hughes was not a member of Canaan Baptist Church. More importantly, Bob wasn’t a real person: he was a character on a soap opera.

That’s the power of character.

As a playwright, my aim is always to write incredible characters that carry on in people’s consciousness. I believe vivid, 3-dimensional characters bring a play to life and give us better insight into humanity. They are at the center of great plays – any impactful art, really – and the artist’s number one task is figuring out just how to create powerful, lasting characters.

I like to ask myself a series of questions about a character, like “Where is the character right now?” or “What is the character’s favorite childhood memory?” And once I answer those questions, I ask deeper questions, based on what I discovered. Let’s say the character’s favorite food is pork rinds, the next question I’d ask is “Why is the character’s favorite food pork rinds?” Maybe the answer is that the character’s grandfather would let her teethe on hard cracklings when she was little, and the hard pork rinds she gets from the bodega around the corner from her apartment in Williamsburg are the closest approximations she can find to the homemade, salty treats she had when she was knee-high to a bullfrog.

The reason for all the questions is simple in my mind: to create complexity. Memorable characters are hardly ever simple people. If Hamlet was just a good, ole boy, never meaning no harm, I doubt his namesake play would be so popular hundreds of years after its creation. Every time we see HAMLET, we have the opportunity to see a new aspect to the Prince’s character.

Great characters are relatable too. Not many of us can be the Prince of Denmark but all of us know what it’s like to grieve a loved one. Finally, great characters are clear in goal. Hamlet wants to avenge his father’s murder. He hems and haws about what action to take, but he knows what he wants.

Did I say finally? Because there are other things that contribute to the creation of a standout character. Great characters also have:
•Well-drawn backgrounds
•Distinct speech
•Flaws

One of my favorite quotes from Blanche Dubois is, “Oh look, we have created enchantment.” That’s how I like to feel when I’ve typed “End of Play,” after a long journey with the characters I’ve listened to, argued with, loved, and maybe even hated for weeks on end.

Then there’s that secret dream of having a character of mine inspire a call to prayer.



Pia Wilson is a member of the 2008 Emerging Writers Group. She does like pork rinds but does not live anywhere near Brooklyn. Her short play, TURNING THE GLASS AROUND, is a finalist for the 2011 Heideman Award. www.piawilson.com

This post is part of a weekly series from the Emerging Writers Group community of playwrights.
The EWG is two-year playwriting fellowship at The Public Theater seeking to target playwrights at the earliest stages of their careers. In so doing, The Public hopes to create an artistic home for a diverse and exceptionally talented group of up-and-coming playwrights.