bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY


October 13th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

Remember Jordan Catalano?

REMEMBER?????? The first and last time I ever wanted to lick someone’s hair.

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tell me what I think

October 12th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

Sometimes a good OpEd helps me figure out what I think, when my Gemini brain is straight up split down the middle, hovering over both sides of an argument. This morning: Gone Girl: brilliant or misogynistic, or both? (It’s hard to talk about this book  — which I RAVENOUSLY DEVOURED LIKE I DID NOT SLEEP FOR A WEEK last year —  and movie, without spoiler-alerting, but I will do my best.) The lady protagonist of this book / movie is an evil, beautiful lunatic. What of this portrayal of a woman? Is this book / movie (written by a woman) hellbent on portraying women as psychos who cannot be trusted?

In an article in the  Times this AM, Maureen Dowd quotes the novelist, Gillian Flynn: “Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids.” I have to agree, especially when it comes to storytelling. How’re we meant to tell stories, if everyone is on their best behavior all the time? As long as dark behavior is motivated by human and relatable impulses, I’m good to go (and personally, in a sort of terrifying way — I find Amy, the Gone Girl,  relatable.) Maureen goes on to  tell me what I think: “Given my choice between allowing portrayals of women who are sexually manipulative, erotically aggressive, fearless in a deranged sort of way, completely true to their own temperament, desperately vital, or the alternative — wallowing in a feminist propaganda and succumbing to the niceness plague (I love that) — I’ll take the former.”  It all comes back ’round to this biased against things written by women / things featuring women: women are supposed to be good. Kind. They are the Nurturing Mother or Medea or the insane girlfriend and there is little room for flaws in-between. Gone Girl is deeply uncomfortable, but I don’t think it’s because she’s a black orchid of a gal —  it’s because she gets away with it. That’s what we can’t stand.

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the funnest of games

October 11th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

I’m supposed to be starting a new feature script, to have something to pimp out, as it were, now that The Secret script is being circulated. My agent sent me a list of public domain figures, characters and places from folklore, from dusty literature, from the Bible, from Mythology, that are fair game, in terms of adaptations. It is a fantastic list. Raggedy Anne and Andy! Goldilocks! Mother Earth!  Daniel Boone! Father Time! Currently I’m turning it into a game of how to shove things together in a Rom Com, like Satan falls for Mother Earth, or perhaps a Dystopian thriller, global warming ravaged heat town, where an IRKSOMELY OPTIMISTIC LITTLE GIRL TEACHES THEM ALL THE ‘GLAD GAME.’ It’s basically just robbing some deceased writer of their thinking but it’s at least a fun place to start, when currently my most profound Saturday thoughts include ‘….bagel?’ and ‘fingernails!’ and ‘OH RIGHT, OIL CHANGE.’

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October 10th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

I got two awesome lil productions coming up in LA y’all! The companies have banded together to promote the shows.

Though it SOUNDS like I will lying sexily across a piano and  singing songs about the One that Got Away, I will in fact be answering questions in between massive bites of Brie. Join me!

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October 9th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

An episode I wrote for Switched is a finalist for a Sentinel award! The Hollywood Health society gives them each year to shows that promote awareness of health issues — for us, the cochlear implant. All of this to say, I was instructed to wear ‘business cocktail attire’ to the ceremony tonight. One mildly stained old navy tank top and one pencil skirt I bought in Chicago six years ago when I was filled with a sudden and violent need to look like a grown up later, I basically just feel like I work at a bank, or like my mom works at a bank and I’m wearing her clothes. But also it’s kind of fun. When will I stop feeling like I’m playing dress up and just feel like I’m being my own age? Also, POINTS FOR TRYING?

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October 8th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

Noun: a term just coined by my co-worker in which you go the bathroom, have a very profound thought, and return to the room and VALIANTLY ANNOUNCE IT AS IT IF WERE THE ANSWER TO ALL THINGS WHICH SOMETIMES IT ACTUALLY IS!

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plays: why?

October 7th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

My thoughts today are forming like there is a very wise and very old Japanese man living in my head, twirling his beard around his finger, saying smart things about how rocks are like time. And so: when you are young, plays are for playing with friends and also fun. When you are kind of young but also kind of old, plays are for friends and fun and also expression of longing and angst. When you are older but still youngish, plays are OKAY I WROTE THIS THING OKAY TIME TO GIVE IT TO EVERY THEATER, DUCK AND PRAY, AND SO NOW HOW DO I PAY MY RENT?! HOW WILL THIS PLAY TURN INTO RENT? Beyond that, what do plays become? Why the plays? Why write them? For what for? Also playwrights get older, and busy with other jobs, I think we ask ourselves this. For me, it’s still the way my thoughts form, as plays, but you do get sort of existential about it and ask yourself why.

I will now tell you why.

I’d had a play on my mind, and so the other night, I just sat down and did it:

I told my internet theater friend community, and then 64 people asked to read it, and then I sent it to each of them. I wrote it, friends read it, and maybe someone does a monologue from it someday, or learns something new about themselves or humanity, or at least Beyonce.  If something more happens with it, wonderful. Great. But if not: fine. THIS IS WHY PLAYS!

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someone somewhere

October 6th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

When I was little I used to space out and think about insane things, and think to myself that would never happen, and then immediately counter the thought with: no, wait, that’s probably happened, and then off I would go, concocting some narrative that supported the person falling in love with the camel.  Similarly, there’s a visual artist in Rome who’s wallpapering dumpsters and turning them into aesthetically pleasing works of art,

furthering cementing my childhood suspicion  that literally no matter what you think of, no matter what thing is being done to what bread or tree with whatever thing, SOMEONE SOMEWHERE IS PROBABLY DOING IT.

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already better done

October 5th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

I am thoroughly enjoying Lena Dunham’s book, for it’s honesty and hilarity and relevance. But I can’t help shake this sense that she’s me, but better. Writing about what I should, but fiercer. The similarities between some of our thoughts and life experiences are straight up freaky. I used to have a recurring dream that I forgot I had a puppy, then found it in a shoebox underneath my bed, dying, but still alive; Lena dreams that she forgot she had massive amounts of cages of beautiful birds, which she also finds nearly dead. I went through a massive Polly Stenham ( a very young and very beautiful and very tragic British Playwright) jealousy phase, and thought for ten minutes about writing a play called Polly envy; Lena was also jealous of Polly, but actually met and befriended Polly, and got drunk at her house in London and puked all over her. I kept a sad food diary once for like five minutes, she did it for like a year and turned it into a chapter of her awesome book.  Similar anxieties, but somehow more poetic. She’s in my life, but four years back, and better and more. And she remembers EVERYTHING, every detail, every pony tail, every smell, in a way that I wish that I could. Fortunately, I think This Old Queen’s just too old to let any envy of her success, success off of feelings I’ve felt, of of thoughts that I’ve thought,  fester. Instead, I can just appreciate her for who she is: a more observant, less afraid Me. She writes intently that all women should write; that their stories are worth telling. And so, Lena, who is not listening or reading at all: continue to get after it, Girl. For the rest of us.

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October 4th, 2014 by Bekah Brunstetter

It’s just like: why have just a decorative throw pillow when you can have one that is CONSTANTLY SHOUTING INSTRUCTIONS AT YOU?

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