Writing my new solo play: the mall Santa

You can check out the first part of series on writing my new play here.

I’ve known from pretty early on that there was going to be a mall Santa in this play. It seemed like such a perfect way to quickly get to what the story is about. But I didn’t want to just write what I thought being a mall Santa would be like, so I did some research.

There are some articles you can find on being a mall Santa online. For example, The Ultimate Guide to Working as a Professional Santa Claus, How Do You Become Santa Claus, and We Talked to a Former Mall Santa About What It Takes to Be a Mall Santa; all three are really good articles.

But those articles, as good as they were, didn’t offer quite enough information. So, I found a documentary called “I am Santa Claus“, which features WWE wrestler, Mick Foley, who wants to learn to be a Santa. In addition to Mick, there are a bunch of other Santa’s that are profiled. Some of them are just delightful, and a couple are kind of unpleasant, but it definintely gives a sense of what the Santa gig requires.

So, given that this play involves Yule monsters like Krampus, Perchta, Grýla, and Belsnickel. So what does a mall Santa have to do with that? Consider that all of the Yule monsters (with the exception of maybe Grýla and the Yule cat) have been enslaved by Saint Nicholas and made lesser. So here’s a mall Santa, embodying the person of Saint Nicholas, and what if he accidentally sets them free of their servitude? What then? What would he do? And what could make him go so far? What would make him do something so terrible?

Well, it would take an extremely terrible child….

Writing my as yet untitled November solo play

I had an idea. And the idea was really just that: the barest hint of an idea. But it was enough to start something, to start the wheels spinning in my head. I’ve talked about this before, about writing the poem that inspired me to dig deeper and research more. And I’ve talked about the process, and filling a notebook and then seeing what I’ve got. Now I’d like to talk about putting it together. Because I’d filled a notebook, and I transcribed what I had and learned about the themes I was looking at. I’d done some research and learned more about the Yule monsters and the companions of Saint Nicholas. I learned about more than just Krampus, but of Perchta with her knife and her thread, about Pere Froutard and Belsnickel, and about the Yule Lads, Gryla and the Yule Cat. And more.

So how to put all that into a play? Could that become a play? These were ideas, and they certainly interested me, but were they enough to make a play with? I wasn’t sure. I still needed a starting place. And I found it in what became my thesis, and this idea formed the backbone of everything else I wrote. The idea, went like this:

Christmas is a lie. The whole peace and joy, goodwill to men thing; Christmas Joy, Santa Claus, elves; these are things added to sanitize the season, a salve to soothe the fear, to cover the danger. But it is still there. You can hear it in the howl of the wind, the crunch of the snow, the bay of the wolf. And you can feel it in your heart. You know its there. We all do. Deep down, we feel it. That’s why we cling so desperately to the idea of Christmas joy, Santa, elves, and goodwill to men. Because without those, we’d have to give in to fear. Because the truth is, the season itself…it wants to eat us alive.

 Is that going to be how the play starts? I don’t know yet. I know its an important part, but whether I actually need to have those words in the script is still up in the air.

What else have I learned about the play from transcribing what I put in that notebook? Well, for one thing, I know there’s a mall Santa.

More on that next time.

Idea filing: what do I do with the ideas I can’t work on right now

If you are like me, you get a ton of ideas for new projects. Often, you get them while you are working on a new project. These new ideas are exciting and wonderful, and I feel like I need to do something to retain them.

Now, I’m no Sherlock, so I don’t have a Mind Palace. When I get an idea, its important that I record it, that I write it down somewhere to make sure that I don’t use it. I have two methods for this:

  1. I keep a notebook in my back pocket, and a pen in my breast pocket. All the time. The point is, to stop and write down an idea, whenever it strikes. I have, a few times, thought to myself that I would be able to wait, and that the idea would still be there later. But every time, I’ve been wrong. So I have to write down the idea when it strikes.
  2. I use a web app called Springpad to catalogue my ideas, and take notes. I like this app, because its on the web and has native apps available for smart phones, which allows me to have access to my Springpad account at all times, even when offline.  With Springpad, I can collect links that inspire ideas, and research.

SpringpadThe notebook is for quickly jotted notes. Details are for Springpad. I transfer ideas from the notebook to Springpad, for reference when I’m working. I like springpad because its easy to add a note from a link. I get ideas from articles online all the time, so its nice to be able to save the link in Springpad, and start taking notes on my ideas right, and as I find more links and get more ideas, I can continue to add notes and ideas, allowing me to collect and catalogue thoughts and ideas and to grow them into actual writing projects.

How do you catalogue your ideas?

 

An Evolving Monologue, Pt. 3

The last version of this speech was far too expository to be of any use. It was more like a history lesson than something a character might say. While the last line of the speech is intact (Yes, he bores me. And that is something I can never forgive), it isn’t elaborated on in this speech, but it did inform other interactions in the scene. For this version of the speech, some of the history of the Ruben/Vera relationship remains, but there’s less detail. Vera isn’t a character that would go into that kind of detail with these people.

I did still feel, however, that she needed to be understood. To have someone understand what she’s been through with this man.

Again, Lola says: “what gives her the right to be such a miserable bitch? She just waltzes in here, insults everybody and then waltzes out and we’re just supposed to let her?”

“You think that I am a heartless bitch, who always gets what I want. You think I’m unfair in the way that I speak to my husband, that I am dismissive and unfairly cruel to him. And yet, you know so very little of him. Perhaps if you knew what I know, you would see things differently.

“Look at him. Look at this man who you are so concerned about. What do you know of him? Would it surprise you to know that he is singularly self interested, with adolescent tendencies? That he is unreliable, and emotionally immature? I suppose none of those things would surprise anyone here.

“How did a man like this become Prime Minister? Or even leader of a party? Simple. My father and his father. His a mover and shaker, mine a king maker. And somewhere along the way, they decided they wanted a dynasty, and so it was arranged that I would marry Ruben. I was against it, of course, on principle. I accused my father of living in the dark ages, and refused to even consider it. And then I met Ruben. He was very charming. And he was uncomplicated. I saw so much potential in him.

“Leadership of the party was ordained for him, once Pearson Thomson retired. And finally the day came, and leadership was handed to him, fulfilling the dreams of our fathers, did he take it seriously? No he did not. Since party leadership was ordained for him, why not the Prime Minister-ship as well. Why work at a thing when it is preordained? When it will be handed to you. Ruben would have squandered the opportunity if he had not been surrounded by competent people who could get the job done.

“I hoped, beyond all hope, that Ruben would live up to the potential our fathers saw in him. That he would rise to the occasion. But alas, you see what happened. I tried to encourage him. To push him. But you see the good that did. Ruben was never one for taking advice. He avoided me.  He stayed out at all hours, claiming that he was working. I suspected that he was having an affair, but that relieved me more than anything, since I had long since tired of having him in my bed, and as long as he was discrete about the whole thing, and didn’t embarrass me, I could live with it. But I still believed that if he became Prime Minister, he might live up to his potential.

“But he didn’t. He squandered that too. And when his infidelity was revealed, when he was exposed with you in all the papers, when my shame was made public, when I was humiliated like that in all the papers, I finally realized that this man would never be anything other than he was. A clown, a fool, a bumbler. A bore. Yes, he bores me. And that is something I can never forgive.”

Now this sounds like Vera. Now I feel like I know a little more about her. We know a bit about how she came to be married to Ruben, and more about how she has felt about him and their situation. And more importantly, it sounds like Vera. It sounds right for her. I’m more satisfied with this speech than I have been throughout the process.

An Evolving Monologue, Pt. 2

When we left off, the character of Vera had been introduced, and her culminative monologue was deemed not right for the character. So, I went back to it, trying to find the best way to make Vera understood. Which is what I believed she needed. And so, I set about outlining the history of her relationship with Ruben. And so, that’s what I laid out in her monologue.

Now to lead in, Lola says: “what gives her the right to be such a miserable bitch? She just waltzes in here, insults everybody and then waltzes out and we’re just supposed to let her?”

Vera tells her: “You think that I am a heartless bitch, who always gets what I want. You think I’m unfair in the way that I speak to my husband, that I am dismissive and unfairly cruel to him. And yet, you know so very little of him. Perhaps if you knew what I know, you would see things differently.

“Look at him. Look at this man who you are so concerned about. What do you know of him? Would it surprise you to know that he is singularly self interested, with adolescent tendencies? That he is unreliable, and emotionally immature? I suppose none of those things would surprise anyone here.

“And how did a man like this become Prime Minister? Or even leader of a party? Simple. Family connections. My father was Nelson MacDonald, and was very influential in the party. Outside the Conservative party, there are few who have even heard of him. Some might have called him a king maker, and that wasn’t entirely an incorrect description. Ruben’s family was well known. Everyone knows the Holloway name. His family gave generous donations to museums and art galleries and opera companies. Gerald Holloway, Ruben’s father was a good friend of my father’s and was appropriately well regarded in conservative party circles. It was they who first thought that Ruben and I might be a good match.

“I was against it, of course, on principle. I accused my father of living in the dark ages, and refused to even consider it. And then I met Ruben. He was very charming. And he was uncomplicated. I saw so much potential in him. Since that time, I have wondered if these were things that I saw in him myself, or if they were things I saw because my father wanted me to see them. Both our fathers wanted so desperately for them to be true.

“And the way was made clear for him by our fathers. Leadership of the party was practically handed to him. But did he take it seriously? No. Did he hunker down and plan his way to Prime Minister. No, because he had people do that for him. He could be completely disinterested in it, and still it would happen. Because my father found good people to work for him. Competent people. People who could make things happen.

“And yet, was Ruben interested? No. He stayed out at all hours, claiming that he was working. I suspected that he was having an affair, but that relieved me more than anything, since I had long since tired of having him in my bed, and as long as he was discrete about the whole thing, and didn’t embarrass me, I could live with it. But I still believed that if he became Prime Minister, he might live up to the potential that our fathers saw in him, that I saw in him.

“But he didn’t. He squandered that too. And when his infidelity was revealed, when he was exposed with you in all the papers, when my shame was made public, when I was humiliated like that in all the papers, I finally realized that this man would never be anything other than he was. A clown, a fool, a bumbler. A bore. Yes, he bores me. And that is something I can never forgive.”

So, what’s wrong with this speech? I didn’t notice what was wrong, until I heard it read out loud. That’s when I heard that it was almost entirely expository. All exposition with nothing about the character in it (also, she says “hunker down” which really sounded completely wrong when spoken in her voice).  There are things in the speech that taught me a lot about Vera’s history, but very little about her. I think the most important thing was that last line: Yes, he bores me. And that is something I can never forgive.” That became a key piece of information for Vera on examining the monologue. Her need to be around interesting people. That being bored is the worst thing you can do to her, the crime she cannot forgive, which is an interesting thought, considering her husband’s infidelity. Does that mean that she can forgive that, but not being bored by him? An interesting thought.