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The Ebb and Flow of Full Days and Open Days
And yet, I find, because at my core I do love other human beings and always emerge having learned something, if I power through, if I ride the waves from one to the next and the next that in the end I may be exhausted but I am inspired.
And that’s when I think–especially for writers–it’s essential that we schedule a day or two of space. Space in the calendar. Space in our heads. Space for quiet time with nothin’ but me thoughts.
And yet, I find, because at my core I do love other human beings and always emerge having learned something, if I power through, if I ride the waves from one to the next and the next that in the end I may be exhausted but I am inspired.
And that’s when I think–especially for writers–it’s essential that we schedule a day or two of space. Space in the calendar. Space in our heads. Space for quiet time with nothin’ but me thoughts.
I'm just finishing up a 4-day run of almost back-to-back appointments, each day having been just a bit more fully booked than the last. And I've noticed a few things.
I have a natural resistance to tightly scheduled days. I find that when I have a day composed of 8 or more appointments, there's a part of me that starts to feel a bit stressed. The stress probably comes from the natural human tendency to arrive at any encounter with another human being (one that isn't our lover, brother or mother) with a touch of apprehension. Fear of the unknown. After all, we humans are reservoirs of the unexpected. Put two human beings in a room together and there's no predicting exactly how things will unfold.
So a day full of appointments can be stressful even if not on a purely conscious level. It can take its toll just beneath the surface.
And yet, I find, because at my core I do love other human beings and always emerge having learned something, if I power through, if I ride the waves from one to the next and the next that in the end I may be exhausted but I am inspired.
And that's when I think–especially for writers–it's essential that we schedule a day or two of space. Space in the calendar. Space in our heads. Space for quiet time with nothin' but me thoughts.
After a couple days in isolation with me and my inner voices, the next time I see another human being I arrive hungry. Hungry to absorb anything that isn't borne of my unconscious. Hungry for the unexpected unpredictable sound and fury of another human being with their own history, their own biases, their own passions and obsessions.
And it's off to the races again.
When life's working, there's a natural ebb and flow to all of this. One that works well to support my own creativity and happiness. Sometimes it feels as though I'm forever tinkering to find just the right balance. But sometimes if feels like I'm almost there.
How 'bout you?
My Flip Phone Experiment
A few weeks ago, inspired by another smart phone failure, I decided to try a return to the flip phone.
Here’s what I’ve noticed so far.
A few weeks ago, inspired by another smart phone failure, I decided to try a return to the flip phone.
Here’s what I’ve noticed so far.
A few weeks ago, inspired by another smart phone failure, I decided to try a return to the flip phone.
Here's what I've noticed so far.
Day 1:
Day 5:
Day 11:
Day 11 part 2
I'm convinced that many of the technologies that we rely on throughout each and every day are changing us in ways we may not be able to perceive simply by virtue of our proximity to them. Take for example how easy it is to swim out a few yards from shore into the ocean and look up in surprise to discover that you've drifted halfway down the length of the beach. Whatever we're swimming in is harder to discern.
What do you think?
A funny thing happened on the way to the Bodega.
What she wanted in this moment was not entirely clear to me (or possibly her) but the intensity, the urgency with which she dealt with whatever situation she was in was palpable. Also, I know it involved the selection of an olive oil.
And I could not stop eavesdropping. I became so familiar with the bodega’s potato chip selection that had I not been a regular customer I may have inspired suspicion.
What she wanted in this moment was not entirely clear to me (or possibly her) but the intensity, the urgency with which she dealt with whatever situation she was in was palpable. Also, I know it involved the selection of an olive oil.
And I could not stop eavesdropping. I became so familiar with the bodega’s potato chip selection that had I not been a regular customer I may have inspired suspicion.
I'd run in to grab some peanut butter (confessed addict. I know, I know…) and there was a woman on a cell phone having a conversation.
In 2021, no less!
And she was not happy. But she was taking great pains to appear calm while her thumb and forefinger did a little dance which seemed to be more about chipping the nail polish off of her thumb than anything else.
It was clear she was talking to a man. One she'd slept with. A lot. And also one that she clearly regarded more as a boy than a man.
And he was really asking a lot of stupid questions.
Well, I should say, since I couldn't hear his end of the conversation. He was asking a lot of questions that she was sure were absolutely idiotic and unnecessary and probably in the end a waste of her time.
Still she may have felt guilty or horny or lonely but she wasn't ready to completely cut ties with this fool. So, like many before her, she persisted.
What she wanted in this moment was not entirely clear to me (or possibly her) but the intensity, the urgency with which she dealt with whatever situation she was in was palpable. Also, I know it involved the selection of an olive oil.
And I could not stop eavesdropping. I became so familiar with the bodega's potato chip selection that had I not been a regular customer I may have inspired suspicion.
There were two other people grabbing stuff in the store and I just knew I was going to let them all go ahead of me so I wouldn't have to interrupt the show.
I realize. This really gets to the bottom of where I think the most powerful and unforgettable monologue lives.
It lives in fiercely held intention.
She wasn't particularly "likeable" or "relatable" as my friends on the west coast might say. But she sure was determined. And that was all I needed to dilly-dally among the chips.
And that, I believe, usually spells the difference between a character we can't take our eyes off of and one we wish would finally just stop talking so we could just get home to bed.
Roland Tec's next Advanced Monologue Weekend will be in December. Never miss an opportunity. Get yourself into the Roland Tec "Inner Circle" list. RolandTec.com.
Dear Radio, Television & Podcast Producers: Please take your jobs more seriously. Do the work.
We live in a country with thousands and thousands of artists and projects and there is no reason (other than casual semi-conscious sleepwalking through your job descriptions) for us to be learning of 3 or 4 new projects when we could be discovering 40 or 50.
We live in a country with thousands and thousands of artists and projects and there is no reason (other than casual semi-conscious sleepwalking through your job descriptions) for us to be learning of 3 or 4 new projects when we could be discovering 40 or 50.
It has become routine to see/hear/read an interview with the same book author/film director/songwriter etc. etc. on not one, not two, but 5-7 supposedly independent unique shows or columns.
You know what I'm talking about.
Terry Gross will interview the author of X book.
Two days later I'm hearing Allison Stewart interview the same person.
Another day or two go by and–oh, look who's being interviewed again! (Will I learn something new this time?)
What does this tell us?
Producers of these shows are either lazy or underpaid/over-extended or both.
The programming producers of radio, television and podcasts need to step it up a notch.
This is ridiculous. We live in a country with thousands and thousands of artists and projects and there is no reason (other than casual semi-conscious sleepwalking through your job descriptions) for us to be learning of 3 or 4 new projects when we could be discovering 40 or 50.
And while we're on the subject I would like to report that having just promoted a production of my own, I was repeatedly amazed at the degree to which coverage I read in newspapers or online sites simply repurposed entire paragraphs from our press releases with zero editorial input.
This is all yet more evidence of the fact that we have allowed our media outlets to be starved to near extinction.
What the hell are we prepared to do to save them?
At the Core of Every Workshop I Teach is a Choice
I’ll never forget the time I was finishing up another 3-day Self-Production Boot Camp for a roomful of Dramatists Guild members. The workshop is all about autonomy…. We were entertaining one last 20-min Q&A and a hand shot up in the back of the Mary Rodgers Room. The question? “How do I get an agent?”
I’ll never forget the time I was finishing up another 3-day Self-Production Boot Camp for a roomful of Dramatists Guild members. The workshop is all about autonomy…. We were entertaining one last 20-min Q&A and a hand shot up in the back of the Mary Rodgers Room. The question? “How do I get an agent?”
One of the many workshops I've offered over the years to playwrights and screenwriters is a weekend intensive called Cracking the Producers Code. The goal of the 11-hr crash course is to arm script writers with some of the most important questions a producer will ask as she gets acquainted with your script and thereby comes to see it as more than a script but actually a property.
What do we mean by "property" in this context?
Something that can inspire the public to purchase tickets and thereby form an audience for the work. When talking to distributors or foreign sales agents regarding a small indie film, the most common question any writer/director will have to contend with is: Who is the intended audience for this film?
Most people who read between the lines of any one of my course descriptions understand a fundamental core of my approach to empowering writers.
I believe that writers are some of the most mistreated taken-for-granted unappreciated artists on the planet.
And because of this fact (and it is a fact) most of the structures that hold our theatrical ecosystems together are built on the assumption that writers are a dime a dozen and anyone who produces your work is doing you a huge favor.
Of course the opposite is true; writers do the world a huge favor every time we put pen to paper. Sadly, most writers (myself included) who are fortunate enough to ever write something remotely commercially successful generally don't recognize this fact until it's way too late for them to make requests or demands remotely in line with that value. This pattern continues from generation to generation for reasons which are deeply important and alarming and beyond the scope of this post.
Suffice it to say, the world is built with countless hidden (and not so hidden) signs which say to writers:
Be grateful we're letting your work see the light of day.
And writers, being the sensitive souls that we are, tend to shrink back into our corners taking the failure of certain powerful people to acknowledge just how essential and wonderful and alive we are as an indication that we must not be… essential and wonderful and alive.
And that's a shame.
But of course you already know that. Otherwise you wouldn't be in my Inner Circle.
I'll never forget the time I was finishing up another 3-day Self-Production Boot Camp for a roomful of Dramatists Guild members. The workshop is all about autonomy. I mean for three days all the participating writers go through a series of exercises aimed at demystifying the producing process, to help writers gain the confidence and the nuts and bolts tools necessary for taking matters into their own hands and producing their own shows.
We were entertaining one last 20-min Q&A and a hand shot up in the back of the Mary Rodgers Room. The question?
How do I get an agent?
While I do believe all of this with all my head and heart, I also am sure that 90% of the difficulty writers have getting our work seen is either entirely created or at least amplified by the actions taken and neglected by writers ourselves.
I'm also pretty sure that no matter how good it feels to complain about the myriad ways in which the marketplace is unfair and not in any way engineered to select the work of highest quality, complaining about the externals will not get you any closer to achieving your dreams. And by dreams, I mean the only dream, the one dream: the dream of work–your work–being embraced (passionately!) by an audience.
Don't ever try to convince yourself or your peers that the audience means nothing to you. If you actually manage to convince yourself of this kabuki, only you and your work will suffer. So just stop it.
So, to the title of this post. At the core of every workshop I teach is a choice.
What is that choice?
The choice to embrace, celebrate, augment, exaggerate, and vindicate your artistic autonomy. Think about it: You have a choice in every professional move you make to either act as though you are in the driver's seat, your path determined by your choices or to continue strolling along the same path, convinced of your utter powerlessness and passivity, simply waiting to be shown the next open door by a world that is beyond your understanding.
Which way of being do you suppose feels better in the long run?
To put this another way, yes of course there are too many choices along the way that will be made by people other than you. Of course that's true. That's the nature of working in any profession which involves other human beings. Nevertheless, there are countless choices that are still entirely up to you. And as long as you tell yourself you're powerless, you will be.
The sociologist W.I. Thomas put it most succinctly.
If you define something as real, it is real in its consequences.
The upcoming Roland Tec Online Writers Workshop 2021-22 (with Tammy Ryan) is full.
Join the Inner Circle and you won't miss the call for applications next year.
For more opportunities to work with me, take a look around the RT Private Studio page at RolandTec.com.
Edward Albee wrote Zoo Story as a 30th birthday present to himself.
One of the first VIPs he sent the play to was Thornton Wilder who, I think, later admitted to being ashamed of his utter inability to see the importance and mastery of the play he’d been sent. His letter to Albee in response serves as a useful reminder that not everyone will understand what it is we’re attempting and if we take one person’s “meh” for an answer, we may be making a terrible mistake.
One of the first VIPs he sent the play to was Thornton Wilder who, I think, later admitted to being ashamed of his utter inability to see the importance and mastery of the play he’d been sent. His letter to Albee in response serves as a useful reminder that not everyone will understand what it is we’re attempting and if we take one person’s “meh” for an answer, we may be making a terrible mistake.
A couple months before Edward Albee turned thirty, he decided to write himself a birthday present. He sat down at his kitchen table and typed the first lines of dialogue of the play that would become ZOO STORY.
I've been to the Zoo. I said, I've been to the Zoo. MISTER, I'VE BEEN TO THE ZOO
I take a few lessons from this turning point in this man's life.
1) If there was a shift, it was a shift in his approach to writing plays and a shift in his thinking about himself, not a shift in his relationship with the world. The world didn't change overnight. He did. He took himself seriously. Seriously enough to get out of the way of his characters and let them speak and also seriously enough to doggedly pursue getting the attention of people who might be able to help him get this play up on its feet.
2) One of the first VIPs he sent the play to was Thornton Wilder who, I think, later admitted to being ashamed of his utter inability to see the importance and mastery of the play he'd been sent. His letter to Albee in response serves as a useful reminder that not everyone will understand what it is we're attempting and if we take one person's "meh" for an answer, we may be making a terrible mistake.
3) Edward Albee did not stop sending his play to VIPs for comment in the wake of Wilder's disappointing lack of enthusiasm.
4) Edward Albee did not stop sending his play to VIPs for comment in the wake of even less enthusiasm from William Inge.
5) Edward Albee took a risk and sent the play to a David Diamond, a composer with whom he'd had a rocky and bitter history, someone who would have had every reason (given their history) to have tossed the package into the trash. And Diamond surprised Albee with what anyone who's a true artist hopes will greet their next work: generosity and urgent action.
6) Community was responsible for getting Zoo Story up on its feet (first in German translation, by the way!) as was Edward's dogged pursuit of every potential avenue for the work.
Don't give up on yourself. Take bold risks. Know the value of your work and honor that value with action.
Inaction is an insult to the characters you've birthed on the page. If they're going to breathe air in the world, you're going to have to be there to smack their behinds to set them on their way.
How do you do this? Start by picking up the goddamned phone.
Roland Tec and Tammy Ryan are accepting work sample submissions for the Roland Tec Online Writers Workshop until Saturday October 23. https://www.rolandtec.com/rtoww-22
My RT Inner Circle Emails are way too long. What should I do?
So every time I set out to send information about things I think are important in the world of theatre and filmmakers (including but not exclusively limited to workshops of my own) I feel a kind of burden cause I doubt folks are stumbling upon posts of mine on social media.
So every time I set out to send information about things I think are important in the world of theatre and filmmakers (including but not exclusively limited to workshops of my own) I feel a kind of burden cause I doubt folks are stumbling upon posts of mine on social media.
It's a problem.
I know it.
I don't deny it.
Yet month after month I find myself starting out to compose the RT Inner Circle E-Notes with the clear intention of sending out something light and breezy and easy on the eyes.
And month after month I fail.
Why might that be?
I have some theories.
Because I'm weaning myself from all social media (I decoupled from Facebook after the 2016 election and have occasionally wondered whether I'd made a marketing mistake and so have allowed people to promote my workshops on the platform with serious reservations and angst). Twitter remains a mystery to me. LinkedIn, as I've said before, feels like the Cinderella to the wicked step sisters of social media (FB & Twitter) in that it's more transparent, less sexy and therefore gets most of my attention. Despite the fact that I don't know how many of you actually go there.
So every time I set out to send information about things I think are important in the world of theatre and filmmakers (including but not exclusively limited to workshops of my own) I feel a kind of burden cause I doubt folks are stumbling upon posts of mine on social media.
So that I think contributes to my unconscious need to put every possible dish on the menu on the table. Just in case. God forbid the one person who doesn't eat meat or gluten forgets that I always prepare a rice veggie medley no matter what.
Wednesday Gathering is a bit like this. Each Wednesday at 6:30PM I host a free open mic to just give creative people a reason to stay home. And it's free. And it's been a lot of fun. But it's every week and it's an open mic so each time I send out an email about something else I ask myself: Should I include a little blurb about Wednesday Gathering? Or are folks sick of hearing about it? See one thing I learned during my years on staff at the Dramatists Guild is that there are at least two patterns of readership for an e-Newsletter. Those who open every one and really dig for content they might find interesting. And those who only occasionally stop to open an email and so miss deadlines and then express frustration that they hadn't heard about a specific opportunity. It's the second group that makes me want to err on the side of repeating myself more. We're all really busy. Running around trying to survive. And it's easy to miss things. And some of my inner circle loyal pals have told me (in the kindest most loving way) that I have so many different programs and offers these days that it's kind of hard to keep track of what's what.
Here are some amusing and super helpful facts that MailChimp provided with me about my latest email, which if you missed it, you can click through to here.
I wonder if people have thoughts about this.
I'm pretty sure we're living in a period of great flux in terms of the flow of information. Twenty years from now this may all have worked itself out. In the meantime, I'm not really sure how best to handle this cause I don't want my Inner Circle members to tire of these lengthy emails. Still, I personally don't mind deleting emails from organizations I love (such as the Dramatists Guild for example) when the content one month isn't really of interest. To me unsubscribe is a last resort reserved for senders I know never interest me. Like Facebook.
My RT Inner Circle Emails are way too long. What should I do?
So every time I set out to send information about things I think are important in the world of theatre and filmmakers (including but not exclusively limited to workshops of my own) I feel a kind of burden cause I doubt folks are stumbling upon posts of mine on social media.
So every time I set out to send information about things I think are important in the world of theatre and filmmakers (including but not exclusively limited to workshops of my own) I feel a kind of burden cause I doubt folks are stumbling upon posts of mine on social media.
It's a problem.
I know it.
I don't deny it.
Yet month after month I find myself starting out to compose the RT Inner Circle E-Notes with the clear intention of sending out something light and breezy and easy on the eyes.
And month after month I fail.
Why might that be?
I have some theories.
Because I'm weaning myself from all social media (I decoupled from Facebook after the 2016 election and have occasionally wondered whether I'd made a marketing mistake and so have allowed people to promote my workshops on the platform with serious reservations and angst). Twitter remains a mystery to me. LinkedIn, as I've said before, feels like the Cinderella to the wicked step sisters of social media (FB & Twitter) in that it's more transparent, less sexy and therefore gets most of my attention. Despite the fact that I don't know how many of you actually go there.
So every time I set out to send information about things I think are important in the world of theatre and filmmakers (including but not exclusively limited to workshops of my own) I feel a kind of burden cause I doubt folks are stumbling upon posts of mine on social media.
So that I think contributes to my unconscious need to put every possible dish on the menu on the table. Just in case. God forbid the one person who doesn't eat meat or gluten forgets that I always prepare a rice veggie medley no matter what.
Wednesday Gathering is a bit like this. Each Wednesday at 6:30PM I host a free open mic to just give creative people a reason to stay home. And it's free. And it's been a lot of fun. But it's every week and it's an open mic so each time I send out an email about something else I ask myself: Should I include a little blurb about Wednesday Gathering? Or are folks sick of hearing about it? See one thing I learned during my years on staff at the Dramatists Guild is that there are at least two patterns of readership for an e-Newsletter. Those who open every one and really dig for content they might find interesting. And those who only occasionally stop to open an email and so miss deadlines and then express frustration that they hadn't heard about a specific opportunity. It's the second group that makes me want to err on the side of repeating myself more. We're all really busy. Running around trying to survive. And it's easy to miss things. And some of my inner circle loyal pals have told me (in the kindest most loving way) that I have so many different programs and offers these days that it's kind of hard to keep track of what's what.
Here are some amusing and super helpful facts that MailChimp provided with me about my latest email, which if you missed it, you can click through to here.
I wonder if people have thoughts about this.
I'm pretty sure we're living in a period of great flux in terms of the flow of information. Twenty years from now this may all have worked itself out. In the meantime, I'm not really sure how best to handle this cause I don't want my Inner Circle members to tire of these lengthy emails. Still, I personally don't mind deleting emails from organizations I love (such as the Dramatists Guild for example) when the content one month isn't really of interest. To me unsubscribe is a last resort reserved for senders I know never interest me. Like Facebook.
My RT Inner Circle Emails are way too long. What should I do?
So every time I set out to send information about things I think are important in the world of theatre and filmmakers (including but not exclusively limited to workshops of my own) I feel a kind of burden cause I doubt folks are stumbling upon posts of mine on social media.
So every time I set out to send information about things I think are important in the world of theatre and filmmakers (including but not exclusively limited to workshops of my own) I feel a kind of burden cause I doubt folks are stumbling upon posts of mine on social media.
It's a problem.
I know it.
I don't deny it.
Yet month after month I find myself starting out to compose the RT Inner Circle E-Notes with the clear intention of sending out something light and breezy and easy on the eyes.
And month after month I fail.
Why might that be?
I have some theories.
Because I'm weaning myself from all social media (I decoupled from Facebook after the 2016 election and have occasionally wondered whether I'd made a marketing mistake and so have allowed people to promote my workshops on the platform with serious reservations and angst). Twitter remains a mystery to me. LinkedIn, as I've said before, feels like the Cinderella to the wicked step sisters of social media (FB & Twitter) in that it's more transparent, less sexy and therefore gets most of my attention. Despite the fact that I don't know how many of you actually go there.
So every time I set out to send information about things I think are important in the world of theatre and filmmakers (including but not exclusively limited to workshops of my own) I feel a kind of burden cause I doubt folks are stumbling upon posts of mine on social media.
So that I think contributes to my unconscious need to put every possible dish on the menu on the table. Just in case. God forbid the one person who doesn't eat meat or gluten forgets that I always prepare a rice veggie medley no matter what.
Wednesday Gathering is a bit like this. Each Wednesday at 6:30PM I host a free open mic to just give creative people a reason to stay home. And it's free. And it's been a lot of fun. But it's every week and it's an open mic so each time I send out an email about something else I ask myself: Should I include a little blurb about Wednesday Gathering? Or are folks sick of hearing about it? See one thing I learned during my years on staff at the Dramatists Guild is that there are at least two patterns of readership for an e-Newsletter. Those who open every one and really dig for content they might find interesting. And those who only occasionally stop to open an email and so miss deadlines and then express frustration that they hadn't heard about a specific opportunity. It's the second group that makes me want to err on the side of repeating myself more. We're all really busy. Running around trying to survive. And it's easy to miss things. And some of my inner circle loyal pals have told me (in the kindest most loving way) that I have so many different programs and offers these days that it's kind of hard to keep track of what's what.
Here are some amusing and super helpful facts that MailChimp provided with me about my latest email, which if you missed it, you can click through to here.
I wonder if people have thoughts about this.
I'm pretty sure we're living in a period of great flux in terms of the flow of information. Twenty years from now this may all have worked itself out. In the meantime, I'm not really sure how best to handle this cause I don't want my Inner Circle members to tire of these lengthy emails. Still, I personally don't mind deleting emails from organizations I love (such as the Dramatists Guild for example) when the content one month isn't really of interest. To me unsubscribe is a last resort reserved for senders I know never interest me. Like Facebook.