Nothing feels like writing as much as running a pen with some heft and smooth flowing ink over a well-toothed paper in a book that smells a little old world. I am a keeper of notebooks. I've got loads of them - some fancy for nobler thoughts and outstanding quotes from other sources, some small enough to keep in my pocket, and a handful of those traditional spiral-bound 8x11" pads with glossy pictures of pop stars or Star Wars characters emblazoned across the front.
When I was attending Brown a couple of years ago (a Return to Undergrad program) I started carrying smaller books that were easy to transport in my day-bag and easy to leaf thru during my bus-rides to and from campus to prepare for class or review before a test. They were small enough to stow in a pocket, and didn't take up a lot of room on cafeteria counter tops. I learned a lot about economy of note taking by keeping a smaller book.
Some courses (especially the cog-sci classes I was taking) required more notes than others. For these classes I got into the habit of transferring the most important material and formulas to a smaller notebook that would eventually become my bus-ride-study-journal as exams approached.
As a playwright I grab small notebooks as I head out the door almost everywhere I go. I can never tell when I'll need to write something down - an idea, a scrap of dialogue, a description, an important e-mail, a name...
Notebook carrying is an important habit to nurture. Of course, now a phone can house your notes too, or an ipad. Anyway it works for you, make note-taking a habit.
A couple weeks ago I pulled out a notebook that I filled a half decade ago, just before my 3-year excursion returning to college. Without this record I never would have realized how much I had going on before I left for school. At the time I had no idea how much I was doing, or how some of the thoughts that I had jotted down all those years ago had grown into much larger ideas, or how the plays I had only imagined had been written, or how I had really gone back to school and earned a degree.
I rewrote some of those old notes into my new fancy book. Now they are revived, all thanks to scratching ink on some pages. Writing by hand. It's an exercise that feels great. And it turns out that sometimes some remarkable things fall out of the end of a pen.
Friday, May 04, 2012
|From JOAN'S VOICES by Kato McNickle, a play that|
began at NTI Playwrights' Week.
This was due in part to the way our kick-ass instructor Donna DiNovelli "taught" the class. What she taught wasn't play structure or protagonist/antagonist conflict or story arc or any of the lessons you could find in a book about playwriting. What she taught the group was how to hear, understand, and talk to each other about the work they had just heard presented to the class that week.
She guides each class to becoming a self-mentoring group that understands how to share individual responses to the play. This development of intuiting your personal response and framing that response into an intelligible and useful statement is the core of the process. This philosophy carries over to Playwright's Week where, besides the fellow classmates responding to the plays, one or two invited guests sit -in as "responders" to the week of work.
While the invited responders have loads of experience and earned their chops, they don't sit as experts or speak like teachers. What they have practiced, and the reason they were hand-picked for this process, is the ability to quickly assess their personal experience of the work they have seen. Alongside that they also know where to point the new playwrights to begin to enlarge their new work, usually by recommending other plays and playwrights to investigate.
I found myself so in awe of these responses that I began attending the readings each semester in order to take note (with a notebook in hand) of how these excellent responders organized their thoughts into helpful statements about the work.
I wanted to learn to be a good responder too, and as with anything, getting good at something requires practice. I started attending local readings of new work. As it happens a friend of mine was teaching an evening playwriting course through a Parks & Rec program and would offer selections of the works in a public showing. These "Finales" were a perfect place for me to practice responding to new work in public. Nothing ups your game like sharing it in a public venue. You have to learn to be clear, precise, and succinct all at the same time.
The ability to provide helpful and supportive feedback immediately after seeing a performance is a learned skill, not a natural one. Learning to be effective at it can help you build a thoughtful, involved, and articulate arts community in your area. If you want to be involved with a more vibrant arts community, lead the way by introducing ways to have these conversations about the work. You grow your art by nurturing the work of others.
It's always about being generous and honest.