I Love the Bones of You: My Father and The Making of Me (book)

Aboard the Cunard Queen Mary 2, at the ship’s fore, there is a library. It is well stocked, a cozy room with many chairs and couches and plentiful views of the ocean. We spent much time there, and so did many others, the place was often full of people, reading.

The first book to catch my eye was Christopher Eccleston’s I Love the Bones of You: My Father and the Making of Me (2019). It is hard for the eye not to be caught by the sight of Eccleston’s face, or his name. Most Americans, if they know him, know him as an actor who often plays villains or other complicated people, or as the Ninth Doctor.

Of course, I had no idea he’d written a memoir, so I didn’t think twice, this would be my library loan for the week. And it’s like the opposite of a traditional memoir – his parents are loving and supportive. He’s a strong-minded actor, and one who plays intense characters, which has given him a reputation, but he’s so positive, about everything.

One thing I really enjoyed was how Eccleston really respects writers. Often, when involved in the production of a film or television series, he will base his performance on the writer. I love that.

The through line of his story is the love he holds for his father, and what it was like to lose him over a decade-long struggle with dementia. I lost my mother in two months. I do not know which is worse. I have wished to have had the chance to say good-bye better. Eccleston reassures me that just may not have been possible.

It’s quite a book. I had a fantasy about running into him in London, just so I could say thank you for this book you’ve written. That, and you’re my Doctor.

On Clichés

Writers use words to challenge or shape ideas and thoughts. If you can distill a big idea into a short story, or an original turn of phrase, you can move untold numbers of people. You can also make bumper stickers.

Jesus told stories to get his point across. Ancient tales provide useful or hackneyed metaphors, to poignantly comment upon or dumb-down contemporary issues.

I remember the first time I heard the fable of the scorpion and the frog, it was nearly thirty years ago, in the movie The Crying Game (1992). I can also remember the last time I heard it, which was during the second season of The Umbrella Academy (2020). I have heard it too many times in between.

The first time someone told me that the clinical definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result (not the actual definition of insanity, clinical or otherwise) was almost twenty years ago, in 2002. I remember who said it, too, because I was impressed by the expression. Almost immediately, though, everyone was saying it and it has become cliché. 

cliché n. 1. a phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought.

The most quoted line from I Hate This (a play without the baby) is one that I did not write. During our experiences recovering from the loss of our first child someone told me, “A person who loses their parents in an orphan, someone who loses their spouse in a widow or a widower. There is no word for the parent of a dead child.” They went on to say that this is because in our society, the thought of losing a child is too horrible to bear. So we dare not name it.

That is certainly one way to look at it. In my script I do not pretend to have made that line up, and add my own personal conclusion:

I read somewhere that we use language to understand our world. Someone who loses a spouse is a widow or widower. Someone who loses their parents is an orphan. There is no word for parents of a dead child, so we do not understand who we are.

That’s the line everyone quotes from the play, “There is no word for a dead child.” It seems to neatly sum something up for people.

As a writer this fact is, of course, irksome. If the line that truly stands out is one that is not mine, did I say anything else that was memorable? Does the entire play revolve around that one line?

When I was trying to come up with an alternate title for the play for the performance in Chennai, people suggested variants on this one phrase. It gets quoted in the reviews. I don’t remember where I first heard this phrase. I have heard it used in many contexts since, most recently on an episode of Falcon & The Winter Soldier which was released on March 19, 2021, the twentieth anniversary of learning our first child was dead. We actually laughed, it was so absurd.

For those in the know, there is an entire series of “canonical” Doctor Who stories produced by the BBC for audio. Paul McGann, the so-called “Eighth Doctor” was only featured in one made-for-TV movie in the mid-90s but his regeneration (and his voice) has been part of many stories recorded for CD and digital download.

In an episode titled Jonah (July 2018) the Doctor is visiting an ocean planet, one which has been ravaged by the “Time War” and Bliss, one of his companions, has the following exchange with a native person named Murti:

Bliss: Is it steam powered or what?
Murti: Sorry?
Bliss: Ah, nope, nope, it's fine. I'll be fine. This is fine.
Murti: Sorry, was that a joke?
Bliss: I don't know. Do you have jokes on this planet?
Murti: Not really. Not anymore.
Bliss: Ah, of course. Um, have you, uh ... it must be... Have you lost any --
Murti: Everyone on this ship is an orphan or a widow or a widower or a sakshi.
Bliss: A ... what?
Murti: A parent who's lost a child.
Bliss: Ah, and what are you?
Murti: A little bit of everything right now.

Get it? This is a private joke for or on everyone who has ever heard or used this phrase before. Only it goes one better, because it is told from the point of view of someone whose language does have a word for a dead child, substituting the sentiment of the original cliché with its own poignancy. Count yourself fortunate you do not live in a society that has a need for such a word. 

The next script I write will include the following exchange:

One: I mean, it's like ... have you ever heard the story of the scorpion and the frog?

Two: Of course, everyone has.

One: Oh? Well. It's like that.

Playhouse Square will premiere "I Hate This (a play without the baby)" in Summer 2021. Details to come. 

On Editing

We have corsets!

Revision is an act of change, or alteration. Re-writing is as or can be even more important than original writing. The version of Sherlock Holmes Meets the Bully of Baker Street I presented to the touring company was only the third draft, play scripts can go through many more revisions before production.

Editing, however, is an altogether different enterprise. Editing and revision can be synonymous. In this case, however, we are talking about cutting, excising, weeding. You can only assume how long a text might take to perform until it’s actually read, and even then you need to account for set changes, the use of music or the arrangement of song.

And then there are the words themselves. Until you hear them, hear actors perform them, you might not understand how they are received. And editing will be required to provide clarity, eliminate repetition or redundancy, drop jokes or turns of phrase than simply do not land, eliminate repetition or redundancy, and in general, to make the thing shorter.

We want, we need a fifty minute show. That’s what we’re selling, and schools need to account for the actual duration of the performance. To that end we have already struck out entire verses from almost each of the five songs. Not that the songs are terribly long, each first lasted a little over two minutes. Now they run between a minute and ninety seconds.

221B Baker Street

Does this bother me? Not at all. Yes, the verses are delightful and fun to hear. But we’re telling a story and each song is a means to an end, they are not the thing itself.

And then there’s the text. At the end of every rehearsal we ditch a few lines, or entire exchanges. And I say yes, thank you, to each and every one.

Lines you won’t hear in performance:

VICKY: … you will have to excuse me if I am skeptical about your … reformation.
SHERLOCK: Good word, “reformation.”
VICKY: Thanks.
SHERLOCK: Good for you.
VICKY: Stop it.

It’s a funny exchange, it speaks to the nature of their relationship at that moment. But a similar exchange happens again, a little bit later, and with greater significance.

At another moment we hear the description of an incident in New Jersey harbor, in which the hold of a ship was packed with asphalt, and during a sudden heat wave the cargo melted, sinking the ship. This is something which did in fact happen at the turn of the century, has happened several times in maritime history, in fact. It’s all very interesting, I guess, but who cares? The ship sank. No one died. All cargo was destroyed. Moving on.

This is why I do not like to direct my own work. I have written several tours for Great Lakes, including On the Dark Side of Twilight, The Mysterious Affair at Styles and Double Heart, and in each case judicious editing made the plays so much better than if we had proceeded with the draft provided. These productions were directed by Andrew May and Lisa Ortenzi, and in each of these cases overseen by my supervisor at the time, Daniel Hahn. They each provided vital contributions to editing the script, and so did the acting companies involved.

The Great Globe Itself (2015)

The only time I have directed an outreach tour was The Great Globe Itself, which I also wrote. And the experience reinforced my belief that I am my own worst director. Don’t get me wrong, it was a funny play. The actors, Arthur, James, and Roderick, they each did tremendous work. The designers and builders, our choreographer and our dialogue coach, and our interns who created the educational materials, it was all spot-on and well-executed.

But the script wasn’t sure what it wanted to be. I had thrown so much into the pot, arcane history about the Globe Theatre, the Great Lakes Exposition, Doctor Who, it’s like my every minute, personal artistic interest had been chucked in a blender.

It wouldn’t have taken much, it wasn’t a terribly long play. It was just that much too long, speeches should have been trimmed, gags dumped, and someone, anyone, could have asked, what are you trying to say here? It is a mistake I hope not to repeat.

To be continued.

The Secret Adversary: Photo Shoot

Tommy & Tuppence in Playhouse Square

Creating The Secret Adversary tour image created a special challenge. Great Lakes Theater Marketing Director Todd K., and I wanted to create a sense of motion, the impression of urgency. Our young detectives are working against the clock to stop an international criminal mastermind.

First, of course, we needed some charming young detectives, and found them in the persons of Devon Turchan and Deborah Cluts. Shortly after being cast they met with production costume designer Esther Haberlen, who created these c. 1920 looks expressly for the promotional shoot. She will be designing different looks for the tour.

Having decided upon an action shot, we needed to figure out where they were rushing to, and why. It had to be intriguing without any necessary knowledge of the story or characters involved.

A few guide images we shared were those of intrepid journalist Tintin and of course, the Doctor, (who has somehow been referenced somewhere in the past four outreach tours) both of whom have awesome coats.

We met with the design team at TRG Reality and threw ideas around. It was decided that to suggest action, our protagonists had to be on their way from somewhere to somewhere else. So the background could not be abstract, but we also wanted to avoid anything very complicated. Something that could be happening in the story, not some detail-laden plot point, but more exciting than, say, a city street or sidewalk.

At the start of the story they met at the top of the stairs at a stop on the London Underground. One afternoon, Todd and I skulked each of the Playhouse Square theatres (built in the early 1920s) in search of stairwells which could stand in for "the tube."

These stairs lead to the original balcony of the Allen Theatre, just off the grand rotunda. As they are no longer useful for accessing the theatre balcony (the Allen has been foreshortened by the Cleveland Play House) the stairs remain something of a hidden treasure, with those striking lights features crowning the rail posts.

The folks at TRG moved in and we all worked together to instruct Debbie and Devon to dash up the stairs ... again, and again, and again. We needed them to concentrate on numerous thoughts at once; Debbie spotted something at the top of the stairs, Devon is focused on her. He's trying to catch up with her, with a hand on her shoulder, and also to check his pocket watch. Also, we desperately did not want them to trip and fall.

Unedited rough image.

We had time to go over the unedited images back at the office and several staff members weighed in with their opinions (thanks, Kelly and Stephanie!) and this was roundly agreed to be the best picture of Debbie (thanks, also, to Dresden, who was our stylist that day). However, these are days of perfection and fantasy and we had suggestions for how to make the place look more like a subway ... and also whether or not we wanted to incorporate a different image for Devon.

The carpet (seen above left in the rough image) would be out of place in a public space like a subway. Also, some signage would better suggest the fact that they were even in a subway, and we looked over several images, like the one directly above, of the London Underground.

If possible, we wanted to keep Devon's hand, but chose a different one of his torso shots, so he would be more visible - especially wearing that awesome coat. Finally, we just wanted to whole thing flipped so the post was up left instead of right for the purposes of future cropping and typography for the poster.

The day before Thanksgiving we received this final promo image for The Secret Adversary. I am thankful to work with so many talented and thoughtful artists, at Great Lakes Theater and TRG Reality!

Final image - TRG Reality

THE SECRET ADVERSARY: Now available from YouthPLAYS.

Rosalynde & The Falcon: Stumble-Through

"Rosalynde" company with Movement coach Stephanie Wilbert

It has been a long winter. On February 10 I attended the first read-through of Rosalynde & The Falcon. The next day I began rehearsals for The Great Globe Itself, which has been on the road for two weeks. This afternoon I had my first opportunity to return to Rosalynde, and to sit in on a rehearsal.

Rosalynde is based loosely on Shakespeare’s As You Like It, or maybe something close to a parody of same. After all, the basic storyline had been well-worn before Shags got to it. A young woman fears for her life and escapes to the forest, disguised as a man. There she meets a band of outcasts and has an adventure.

In the folk tale Snow White she falls in love with a prince. In my story, she becomes one.

When we were discussing the season, Ali asked to add a parenthetic title, and suggested A Topsy-Turvy Tale of England. All the plays this year are denoted by parentheticals as to their origins. The Silent Princess (A Turkish Folktale) or Prince Ivan & The Firebird (A Russian Tale of Magic).

At first I was confused, and also afraid. I was afraid audiences would think this play is, well … English. No doubt this is because my heritage is mostly English, and I don’t go around trumpeting that fact because it’s like saying your favorite flavor is vanilla or your favorite color is white.

But that’s ridiculous. The play is based on the work of the greatest playwright ever, who was English. There’s also a lot of Robin Hood in it, he was certainly English. We all saw the opening ceremonies of the 2012 Olympics, right? A tiny island nation faced the world and said, you like culture? We made that.

I am reminded of the 1996 Doctor Who movie, which takes place in San Francisco. Introducing The Doctor to someone, his American companion explains his demeanor to a friend by referring to him as English. The Doctor thinks for a moment and says, “Yes. I suppose I am.”

So, yes. I suppose it is. Rosalynde is an English tale!

There have been many suggested edits to my original script since rehearsals began, and I have agreed to all of them. What I wrote is a comedy, somewhat broad in nature, borrowing from many familiar comic tropes. True to form, the artists at Talespinner have built the work with great music, dance and movement. What works, what is funny, stays. What is only funny to David gets cut.

Settling in for the beginning of today’s first-ever “stumble-through” of all scenes performed together, in order, is\\they began with an old English “whistling song” and I couldn’t help be reminded of the opening of Disney’s animated Robin Hood. And that was a very good sign.


Performance rights for "Rosalynde & the Falcon" are available from Next Stage Press.

Styles: Groundwork

Director Lisa expalins all the wibby-wobbly, timey-wimey ... stuff.
Emily joined us last night, now we are four. It wasn't so much a table session as a sit down, stand up, wander around the room work session. This was good, I have some very definite choreography regarding where Poirot finds clues. We have less then three weeks. I want to know where I am looking, going, crouching.

Trying to make sense of a carefully crafted mystery which has been condensed is a, well, it's a mystery is what it is. Luckily the source material is strong enough (and my adaptation so painfully awesome) that most head-scratchers can eventually be understood. At least I hope so. I continue to cut my lines. Who wrote this play? That's right, I did.

One of Lisa's great concerns at the moment are appropriate accents. Mine is a lost cause, I even started doing Schwarzenegger, no idea where I got on that train. She has promised English accent tapes and an English warm-up exercise, and strongly recommends a steady diet of Downton Abbey, Sherlock, and Doctor Who.