This is closing weekend of the premiere of my play The Way I Danced With You at Ensemble Theatre in Cleveland Heights. You have two more opportunities to catch it, today at 2:00 PM and tomorrow at 7:00 PM.
Presented as part of the 2019 Colombi New Plays Festival, we have had a marvelous run following an extended development process.
Last weekend my new children’s play About a Ghoul closed at Talespinner Children’s Theatre. I wrote that piece in about eight weeks, last November and December. I recently found notes from late 2013, which were my exploratory writing for this play. I’d had it on a list of “plays I would like to write” for longer than that. It was just said “George Michael” but I knew what it meant.
In the past five years we've read it in a bar downtown, in Valdez, Alaska, and in the Waterloo Arts District. It's been produced on the West Side and the East Side. Dani and Charles have gotten around.
Sarah Blubaugh
People love this piece, and I am so glad they do. It has moved audience members to tears, I didn’t know I could do that. It has been a joy watching Sarah Blubaugh and Cody Fitzpatrick Steele grow in these roles -- especially Sarah, who had what I felt was a very challenging task, adapting her idea of Dani, a character she had already grown very attached to at the Blank Canvas production last year, to a different actor’s idea of who Charles should be.
It’s an intimate, two-person work that keeps the audience guessing until almost the end. A real psychological mystery. Each development process the script has changed, even here; at the suggestion of director Tyler JC Whidden we removed a few words, just a few, and in doing so extended the mystery even further so that the reveal was all the more satisfying.
Theater is all about collaboration, even or especially the writing.
Many are aware that folk tales, like those from which popular Disney “princess” films are based, do not necessarily have happy endings. They can be violent horror stories, which arguably teach a child valuable lessons. Lessons like, “do what I say or someone out there will murder you.”
What was most interesting about this book, however, was that the Brothers Grimm did not write these tales, they collected them, just as ethnomusicologist Alan Lomax collected recordings of American folk music. Documentation, not creation.
I have had the great fortune and opportunity to create and adapt tales for the stage at Talespinner Children’s Theatre. One of the things I have noticed about folk tales from around the world are their great similarity, and also their differences.
Every culture, it would seem, has a story of a young woman or girl who is either cast out or runs away, in fear for her life. This is a story found not only in tales like Snow White, but repeated in Shakespeare’s As You Like It. These two version, and others, formed the basis for my play Rosalynde & The Falcon.
The Indonesian folk tale Bawang Merah Bawang Putih is a story much like Cinderella, with a put-upon step-child eventually receiving great reward for her patience, even as her mean step-mother and step-sister get their comeuppance. This was the basis for my play Red Onion, White Garlic, though I took liberties with the story to make the sister allies rather than enemies.
Margi Herwald Zitelli & Sarah Bogomolny "Red Onion, White Garlic" (Talespinner Children's Theatre)
Moroccan culture also has many, many tales of young women and girls in peril,who are either punished for their bad decision making, or rewarded for their wisdom and cunning.
Like Grimm’s original tales, the Moroccan tales that I have read are a transcription of an oral tradition, and as such the tales do not necessarily have a complete, narrative arc or structure. They can go many different places, with characters and story lines being introduced and just as suddenly abandoned.
What I found most fascinating about Moroccan tales are the preponderance of ghouls. They are the bogeymen in these stories, not just as monsters, but as characters.
Talespinner artistic director Ali Garrigan introduced me to Abdelghani Kitab, a Moroccan musician and actor living in Cleveland, and we met several times over the past year over coffee to discuss Moroccan culture and folk tales. One afternoon he translated for me (from the French) a story that his grandmother used to tell him.
Here now, my simple retelling of this version of the story Haina, threads of which are found in my new play script, About a Ghoul.
Haina - or - The Girl Who Married the Ghoul Haina was a girl with long black hair, so long and soft that at night she would roll up her hair and use it as a pillow.
She had a wealthy father, whose dying wish was that she marry her cousin. Following the marriage, Haina found it strange that her new husband would depart for seven days, every seven days. What she did not know was that every night her husband would turn into a GHOUL, and that he would stay awake for an entire week, and then sleep for another, necessitating the lie that he was always traveling.
Now this ghoul would eat anything and everything. Each morning, when her husband was in residence, Haina noticed that they would lose another horse. Soon only her favorite horse remained. The horse pleaded with Haina to free him from his chains. She told her husband that the horse was ill, and only fed him rice and milk. The next time the ghoul departed (or rather, hid in sleep) the chains fell off the now much thinner horse, and the two of them, Haina and horse, made their escape.
Upon waking, the ghoul cried, “My horse ran away with my wife!” All who heard his cry laughed and mocked his folly.
Haina disguised herself as a talib or a holy man. They came to a city where they were warmly welcomed, though the children were suspicious. That night they peered through the window of the house in which the talib was staying to see him combing his long, black hair.
The children went to their mother to tell what they had seen. Their mother thought of a test to prove whether the talib was a man with long black hair, or a woman posing as a man. The next day they offered the talib a meal of food both spicy and sweet -- as it is well-known that women prefer sweet food and men prefer spicy food! The talib passed the first test by choosing the spicy dish.
But then the mother surprised the talib by telling him that their horse died during the night, and the talib broke down in tears. Mother reassured the talib that the horse was not dead -- but also that only a woman would cry over the death of a horse, and Haina admits her deception.
Charles Hargrave, Valerie C. Kilmer & Tim Keo "Rosalynde & The Falcon" (Talespinner Children's Theatre)
The story continues, and for a moment it appears that things are going to end well for our heroine. The eldest of the children, a young man, thinks Haina is very beautiful and they agree to marry. But when her first husband, the ghoul, learns of her second match -- and that Haina is pregnant with twins -- he spreads an ugly rumor that she is about to give birth to two dogs.
Her new husband hears the rumor and flies into a rage. He orders Haina’s hands to be cut off and the newborn twins be put into cages. In the end all deceptions are revealed, lovers and family are reconciled and the site of Haina’s punishment becomes a shrine.
Elements of the first part of the tale of Haina forms the basis for my adaptation About a Ghoul. No one in my play is maimed (though some are shamed.) In America we have a tendency to shield children from monsters and harsh punishments in the tales we tell, and maybe this is for best, or maybe not. There are monsters in the world, and harsh punishments.
I was concerned that a title such as “The Girl Who Married a Ghoul” might scare away parents, but also that they should know that we will have ghoul characters. As you can see, our idea of what a ghoul is in the West, whatever that is, is only one example. Through the many tales I read I saw all kind of ghouls, outsiders who live by a different set of laws, several of them capable of sympathy and kindness.
Some have asked if the title About a Ghoul is a play on the title of the film About a Boy, and the answer is no. Because the title of the novel upon which the film is based, About a Boy, is inspired by the title of the song About a Girl by Nirvana, and Nirvana is never mentioned in the film About a Boy.
Here we go! Last night we held the first read-through of About A Ghoul at Talespinner Children’s Theatre, which opens March 9.
It was only the other day that I realized that, unlike every other script I have ever written, this is the first one I simply handed off to a theater company before holding at least one informal reading. I had never heard this script read aloud until last night!
If last night was in indication, though, I can be confident in its success. There were many laughs, most of them (I believe) intentional.
This is my fourth script for TCT, and it will kick off their eighth season of original plays for child audiences. Usually I am familiar with most of the performers cast in each of these productions, in this case three out of six are new to me!
Absent from this first read was my collaborator, Abdelghani Kitab. He will join us at the first rehearsal. A Moroccan actor and musician, I first saw Abdelghani in I Call My Brothers at Cleveland Public Theatre. He made a wonderful impression in that show (Cleveland Scene called him “absolutely endearing”) and I was so glad when TCT artistic director Alison Garrigan introduced us for this project.
Much of the plot for About A Ghoul comes from the Moroccan folk tale Haina, which Abdelghani translated for me from the French. And in this production he will perform and conduct the music.
I will drop by rehearsal from time to time. But the script, as is traditional for TCT shows, is not set in stone. As I described it last night, “it is still clay, it is meant to be shaped!” Shepherding this company is my colleagues, and former actor-teacher, Katelyn Cornelius, who previously brought Red Onion, White Garlic to dazzling life.
Listening to the actors read the script, which consists of tales told by a wise man -- tales which turn out to be true -- I was content that the action was clear enough to be comprehended by children.
I am also confident that this company will be able to take a story about a ghoul and keep it light and amusing. It is grotesque in places (it would have to be) but they will manage it with a gentle touch.
But goodness, I am quite the thief. There are laugh lines stolen from Aaron Sorkin’s SportsNight, the movie Risky Business, and even a retelling of Portia’s “Quality of Mercy” speech from The Merchant of Venice.
"About a Ghoul" (Talespinner Children's Theatre, 2019)
How do you get that next production? That’s a question. Without a name, without a history, when your work has largely been confined to your own community, without representation, how does one push their own work into the larger world?
In the gig economy, there are plentiful opportunities to attract attention to yourself, but there are thousands of others taking those same opportunities. Yes, there are many examples now of playwrights whose work has been discovered on New Play Exchange. For a moment I thought I was one of those.
In January, a small company in a large city cold-contacted me about one of my previously produced works. They really wanted it! I was interviewed by the artistic director. I was consulted about concept. They requested a contract, which I sent. Then … nothing.
I tried to reach out once, just a big hello? Are we on? No response. They announced their season in the summer, and no surprise, my play was not there. How disappointing. That’s not how you do that.
The entire year has been like that.
Casting spells in the rain. (Harry Potter World, Orlando)
The year literally began on the tarmac. After a significant delay, we touchdown in Orlando minutes before midnight New Year’s Eve, and rang in 2018 waiting to exit. It was a last-minute decision, to drop everything and scurry off to see Harry Potter and Mickey Mouse. After the horrors of the holidays, the wife just wanted time with her family.
What we got were four wet days in an amusement park, with temps in the mid-forties. But we were adventurous, we dined and played and loved together as a family under a dark cloud, because that’s a metaphor for everything these days.
New writing was under the radar this past year, I spent far more time doing crossword puzzles. It’s just a fact. However, works that have been in development or previously presented found their home, some more than one home.
The Way I Danced With You was presented as part of their Factory Series at Blank Canvas Theatre, and it was a very successful weekend. Funny, I did not think it was particularly well-attended. It’s not a big house, and it felt like there a lot of empty seats. And yet, the feedback was highly positive -- and it keeps coming. Since March numerous people, folks I didn’t even remember attending, have told me what an impression it made how much they are still thinking about it.
"The Way I Danced With You (Blank Canvas Theatre, 2018)
Last year I lamented how I had fallen away from writing, longhand, every morning. Well, it took most of the year, but I now have an established ritual of writing 30 minutes or three pages every single morning, without fail. And it makes a difference. I even pushed through an illness to keep covering the page.
Just last night, Talespinner Children’s Theatre announced their 2019 season, which will include the world premiere of About a Ghoul, my new play inspired by Moroccan folk tales.
On the publication front, I have two exciting developments. In an effort to control my own work, I decided to self-publish I Hate This on Amazon. Ten years ago there was a limited edition of that script released in Britain, with all profits going to a national charity. To my surprise, I have found copies of that script going for as much as $50 on various websites. So I have published a version for $5.95, which means pennies for me, but at least it is available to whoever wants it at a price they can afford. You can get an electronic version for even less.
The second publication is still in the works, and I look forward to announcing that soon.
