I end up in unexpected multiple territories when I write a play, and perhaps that is why I sometimes might throw an audience member in a bit of a confusion. But that’s okay. Life appears to have a logical progression, but clearly it doesn’t nor can it. How can we ask a bug to walk a straight line? Why would the bug want to walk a straight line?
Usually I conjure a slim story not knowing exactly where it will go. This time it was about three women who get together every year under the guise of an art club started in collage. I write lines that come to me, it could be from something that passed by me in my life, or it could be something I make up.
I start to see characters saying the lines, but I don’t know who they are. I give them names. Very thin plot lines start to emerge, I wouldn’t even call them plot lines but repeating situations.
And many times, that’s where I leave them - odd and hopefully amusing runs of situations.
Of recent, beginning with Splat and now more so with Beaux Arts Club, narrative has been infused and the characters/situations are defined in a concrete realistic environment.
Working towards a narrative from the inside out leads to familiar ground that is unfamiliar - to actions and events that I didn’t anticipate would come about. It’s like a puzzle you build without knowing anything about it, except that it’s a mystery.
Beaux Arts Club opens May 24