April 25th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter
To interact with other humans after a play of yours is read to have a bunch of people watch you, for two hours, naked, try and put a bathing suit on that’s two sizes two small, and then try and make conversation with them. You feel vulnerable and important and weird, and everything that everyone says to you feels like it’s layered with subtext. The nicest of compliment can feel like a vicious attack on the weird parts of your body. You are at once grateful and ashamed. And after my reading yesterday, I felt MORE BRAINDEAD AND INARTICULATE THAN I HAVE EVER FELT, overwhelmed and mushed with thought, and found myself completely incapable of communicating with other humans. Ex:
NICE PERSON: Congrats on the reading!
NICE PERSON: How’d you think it went?
NICE PERSON: What?
ME: Rubber bands are cool! I hear South Carolina is nice this time of year!
To avoid such future disasters, I am going to compile a list of stock post-reading responses to questions and remarks. Playwrights, take note.
- Thank you! THANK YOU. You chose to come and sit in a dark room for two hours and hear what I wrote. Thank you.
- The actors read the words good.
- I wrote that!
-I have some questions and also some thoughts.
- Yes, It was incredibly helpful.
- Some parts were good and some parts were not good. I think I’m going to keep the good parts and get rid of the parts that were not as good.
- HEY LOOK OVER THERE, A BIRD (Playwright runs away, playwright can’t run good in nice shoes, playwright falls into heat lamp)
- I don’t know what I think. What do YOU think?
- TELL ME WHAT I THINK. I have no thoughts right now, could I borrow some of yours?
Posted in a lot, i am lucky, i am scared, the writing of drama plays, theater, whining | No Comments »
April 24th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter
Do your thing guys, I’ll just sit here and make up words
Posted in a lot, awesome, generally, ha, hmmmmm | No Comments »
April 23rd, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter
Today on last one on the Boat Brunstetter:
She’s Lena Dunham after her Saturn has fully returned. Her sketches are palatable essays on feminism but also hilarious. Less sloppy, more pointed. In my fantasy life, she is my best friend. AMY, COME OVER FOR BATHTUBS OF WINE / LET’S WRITE SOME JOKES.
Posted in a lot, awesome, women | No Comments »
April 22nd, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter
On this earth day, I would like to thank said Earth, for:
- Not (yet) exploding
- Not colliding with other planets or asteroids
- again for mostly not exploding (yet)
Posted in awesome, i am lucky, i am scared, i have peace | No Comments »
April 21st, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter
I think when you’re writing on a show, You tend to have to remove yourself a bit emotionally from it, as you’re trying to keep a bird’s eye view, make sure the lines make sense, make sure all hairs and cuffs are in place, that clear stories are being told. Work is work is work is work, until suddenly, there you are, on set, a grown person doing your job, quietly crying into your coffee. We shot a scene this morning in which John, the lovable DW Moffett, is there for his daughter, Daphne, the luminous Katie LeClerc, in a big way, and I was suddenly overcome with a visceral love for my Dad. I flashed on all of the times he’s encouraged me and paid for things I did and did not need and kept a brave face for me. While I never imagined I’d end up writing for a family show — I am so happy I do, as WHAT IS MORE RESONANT? MORE IMPORTANT THAN FAMILY? I mean, politics? MEH.
Posted in I write for television?, i am lucky | No Comments »
April 20th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter
(Note re: picture below that I just found: WOMEN OF THE PERFECT POSTURE CONTEST POSING WITH THEIR X RAYS. REALLY.)
I have two main goals in life:
1.) Don’t die too young.
2.) Win the Pulitzer Prize for drama.
I unabashedly declare that I want this. I will not be coy. I want it, I do. I like it as a goal: it’s not necessarily something you can work towards in any real way — other than to just, well, keep writing your plays, so the goal can just sort of hover around you as you live and write. I like what it means to a playwright: We hear you. Hey, Good job. It’s okay that you were weird as a kid and that sometimes you can’t express yourself to other humans and that you can’t run very fast, or play the piano, and that you can’t remember the differences between all of the wars. All of that is fine. You are doing what you are meant to be doing. I have been secretly and not so secretly secreting this honor since college, since before I even really knew what it was. In fact, when I was 25 I wrote a play called the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, because I thought it would be hilarious if a play called the Pulitzer Prize for Drama won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama.
The Press Release would read:
The Pulitzer Prize for Drama goes to The Pulitzer Prize for Drama.
……And now I think I understand why I do not have The Pulitzer Prize for Drama.
Posted in a lot, i am lucky, the writing of drama plays, wanting | No Comments »
April 19th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter
When I’m workshopping a play, I like to maniacally bake for my actors. I usually do it while I’m supposed to be re-writing, and it is usually frantic and most likely at 1 am and definitely a form of productive procrastination and I usually eat half the dough while deciding whether or not we should find out at the end that he Killed someone or that She is a He or that He used to love Her or that dandelions are in fact, not really weeds.
Each cookie is meant to say:
1.) Thanks for your Time!
2.) Thanks for your Questions!
3.) Sorry I’m rewriting your lines every ten minutes!
4.) LOOK AT ME I HAVE MANY GIFTS
5.) HOPE YOU ARE NOT ALLERGIC TO NUTS
6.) IF SO DO NOT EAT THIS BECAUSE I FOUND A BUNCH OF PECANS FROZEN IN MY FREEZER SINCE CHRISTMAS AND SO I PUT THEM IN
7.) NOT THAT I DON’T CLEAN OUT MY FRIDGE HA HA NO I DO THAT ALL THE TIME
8.) AND THERE IS NOT A TOMATO IN THERE FROM 2013 AT ALL
Posted in a lot, awesome, food, i am lucky | No Comments »
April 18th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter
Rehearsing this weekend for a reading of my play re: Heaven for the Pacific Playwrights Festival. It concerns a couple who’ve been married for years and years, and have seen eye to eye on most things — until She goes to heaven, and comes back to life, claiming that Heaven is in fact Real. He, well, disagrees, quite dramatically, and with the occasional monologue. And I have an actual married couple playing Joe and Roberta, who as characters are hybrids of all five of my lovely grandparents. Jenny O’Hara and Nick Ullett are actually married to each other, actually in love, and spent the day asking me smart questions, lovingly ribbing each other, spinning tales of his ex wives and her sneaking cigarettes on their honeymoon. Their play fights and fears felt real because for them, in a way, they are, and I stopped listening to what I’d written and just sort of fell into the fabric of their relationship and it was a rare playwright moment in which you realize: I may have actually done it. I may have actually constructed something fully human, as here are these humans, inhabiting it. NOW IF I COULD JUST FIND AN ACTUAL REAL LIFE ANGEL. IF ANYONE KNOWS ONE, JUST LET ME KNOW.
Posted in i am lucky, the writing of drama plays | No Comments »
April 17th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter
Note: a man in Florida challenged himself to order the most elaborate and expensive Starbucks drink there ever was. He added on and on until he had an 83 DOLLAR LATTE. Don’t he look pleased with hisself?
And so Today, on completely uncalled for moral superiority:
To the lady in front of me whose tone while ordering her coffee could only be described as lackadaisical, while I’M TRYNA GET MY COFFEE AND GET TO WORK:
Consider NOT ordering as such: ‘Ummmmm…..
I’ll just have…..
I’ll just have a grande soy decaf sugar free caramel macchiato with an extra shot no foam and a shot of sugar free vanilla in a large cup.’
LADY THERE IS FACT NOTHING JUST ABOUT WHAT YOU JUST SAID. JUST IMPLIES MODESTY. GUESS WHAT IS JUST? MY JUST A REGULAR COFFEE.
OUT OF MY WAYYYYYYYY!
Posted in a lot, whining | No Comments »
April 16th, 2015 by Bekah Brunstetter
To wear a white shirt is to
Say to the Day,
You will Go Accordingly: No spills.
It is to be a woman who is careful of
coffee and sins and crumbs.
It is to be Jackie O with her chin on
her clean, clean hand.
A bride blushing with secrets.
A baby who does not yet know
coffee or its name.
It is to be a man on his way to work,
To merge and purchase things,
Careful of ketchup and ink.
It is to be light and untethered,
paper and snow.
It is to be the person you
Are meant to be but
Can’t. Unbroken, stainless, bright.
Posted in wanting, what I'm wearing, women, words, worrying | No Comments »