April 30th, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter
Morrison’s big sister Kate is in town. I like her so very much, especially because they are kind of exactly the same person. I mean it’s just a theory and I have no actual idea where it comes from except of course maybe FROM THIS MARVELOUS PICTURE.
SAME DRINK / SAME MOOD / SAME FACE
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April 29th, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter
I’ve been trying this app called The Skimm and I can’t tell if it’s brilliant or giving me a brain tumor. It’s basically Local and World news for the Busy and also Social Media Savy Woman? Every morning, you click, and they give you a 2-3 minute scroll worth of what’s happening, with a solid sprinkle of pop culture and memes, tucked between bombings and laws. I have to say, there is something kind of soothing about it, going through the day knowing that I’ve Skimmed, that I have a sense of all that is right and wrong with the world. It certainly saves me time, as it delivers information to me and I don’t have to seek it out. But why do I feel like I am a robot and every morning pertinent information is uploaded into my brain? IS IT BECAUSE I AM IN FACT A ROBOT, AND EVERY MORNING, PERTINENT INFO IS UPLOADED INTO MY BRAIN?
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April 28th, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter
LIFE GAVE BEYONCE LEMONS, AND SO SHE MADE LEMONADE.
I AM THE FIRST PERSON TO GET THIS HIDDEN SECRET MEANING RIGHT?
OKAY COOL I THOUGHT SO TOO.
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April 27th, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter
I studied and worked on a lot of Marsha Norman plays in undergrad (Getting Out / Night, Mother). One night in grad school, I ended up hiding in a corner of her massive west village loft apartment with some other writers from the program, staring in awe at her shelves and shelves of floor to ceiling books complete with sliding ladder, watching Edward Albee eat shrimp, imagining what it might be like to write a play that then bought you a whole apartment. We have never spoken I don’t think, but I’ve called her my friend in my head, in that way that you do if you’ve been in someone’s house but never called each other by each other’s Names. Today, she’s written a PHENOMENAL ESSAY ON HOW / WHY TO WRITE PLAYS, for Stage and Candor. Excerpt from my brilliant friend here:
If you know a story about a brave human in big trouble, write that. Write how the trouble started, what the person did, and how it turned out. Little troubles, for example, troubles that will solve themselves just by the person growing up, you don’t need to waste your time on those. Write about greed, revenge, rage, betrayal, guilt, adultery, and murder. When writing about softer troubles such as injustice, loss, humiliation, incapacity, aging, sadness and being misunderstood, just be sure to attach them to one of the more active troubles. Attach betrayal to loss and you have a play. Attach adultery to aging and you have a play. And let fear drive the whole thing. An aging woman is afraid her husband is having an affair, so she plots to kill him. Just kidding, but you see what I mean. We know we would watch that story, as stupid as it is in sentence form. Then you just add your great dialogue and your fabulous scenes and you’re done. Haha.
Seriously, what we are doing when we write for the stage is telling stories people need to see. We do it for the same reason we put up stop signs, because it is important, for some reason, for people to stop at this place and look around. Our place at the playwrights’ table is determined by how many people remember the stories we tell, and people remember the stories they feel they will need someday. Just like life. Urgency is the key to a good story, fear is the force that keeps it moving. The good news is that humans are so hungry for stories that our brains invent them even when we are asleep. So they need us. It is a great privilege to be a storyteller. And if it hurts, it hurts. We can take it.
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April 26th, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter
We wanted to go for Valentine’s Day. Then Bey had to go and drop Formation, after which a special lyric boosted the franchise’s business by THIRTY THREE PERCENT NATION WIDE. And so on V day, there was a five hour wait. So we went last night. There are still cheddar biscuits. There are wine glasses with lobsters on them. There is lobster. There is dim, hazy light, there are starter salads. There is attentive service, there is a free ice cream sundae when they ask you and so you name your special occasion. HENCE BEYONCE, YOU ARE RIGHT, THERE IS NO BETTER PLACE FOR ROMANCE.
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April 25th, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter
Two years ago today, I went with this man to see a play. During the play, I looked over at his dangerously long femur extending for years beyond even mine, and longed for our femurs to to be friends. An hour later we happened upon an 80s cover band and danced our femurs off. An hour later we kissed in a parking lot, his head a remarkable distance above my own. Two years later he’s still mine. Six months from now we wed. Fifty years from now our femurs turn to mush and so we move around the grocery store in mechanical scooters, holding hands, taking up too much of the aisle.
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April 24th, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter
I bid a bittersweet farewell to the Switched at Birth writers, cast and crew last night. After 103 FREAKING EPISODES, it is being sent off to that great big vault of excellent shows in the sky, where shows go to take naps and reminisce and, as my theory of heaven goes, dine on waffle sundaes and unlimited peel and eat shrimp. Practically everyone who’s ever worked on the show turned out to celebrate what we made. I’m still new to TV, but I get the sense that it’s rare to work on a show with so much love and camaraderie. The fact that it gave a lot of people their first chance at their dream I think lodged it in a special place in a whole lot of hearts. Lizzy and Paul gave lovely speeches about how surely we’ll all work together again, and so it’s not really the end. By which I of course mean, of Gils Marini’s abs.
IT WILL NEVER BE THE END.
Posted in I write for television?, YAY, a lot, famous people stuff, i am lucky, the future, what my friends are doing | No Comments »
April 23rd, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter
Old plays are oftentimes more relevant than contemporary plays. Why is this? Mo and I got down with our bad undergraduate theater selves the other night, and went to see a fantastic production of Six Characters in Search of an Author — Luigi Pirandello, 1921 – at a Noise Within in Pasadena. Six Characters is a quintessential That Play you Read in College that makes you Ask big questions like Why Plays and What are People? It begins with six mysterious people crashing a play rehearsal. They are characters from a play that was never finished. And they desperately need to tell their story. As they do, we start to wonder: are the characters more human than the humans? The text that I can’t shake / that is still ringing true:
“This is the real drama for me; the belief that we all, you see, think of ourselves as one single person: but it’s not true: each of us is several different people, and all these people live inside us. With one person we seem like this and with another we seem very different. But we always have the illusion of being the same person for everybody and of always being the same person in everything we do. But it’s not true! It’s not true! We find this out for ourselves very clearly when by some terrible chance we’re suddenly stopped in the middle of doing something and we’re left dangling there, suspended. We realize then, that every part of us was not involved in what we’d been doing and that it would be a dreadful injustice of other people to judge us only by this one action as we dangle there, hanging in chains, fixed for all eternity, as if the whole of one’s personality were summed up in that single, interrupted action.”
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April 22nd, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter
In trying to find the perfect image to match my earth day thought, which was simply that the Earth is probably REAL mad at Prince for bogarting it’s One Day, I stumbled across these BEAUTIFUL IMAGES THAT I AM OBSESSED WITH.
They’re by an artist named Beth Hoeckel. She collages retro art with the cosmos. I could just look at it for days.
Nope, still not done.
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April 21st, 2016 by Bekah Brunstetter
I had a hilarious but also profound moment the other night. I was sitting in my parents’ kitchen, responding to emails, stressing over 900 decisions and worries both large and small. Seated next to me: my Dad. Wise and calm. Having lived all of the years. Having seen all of the things. Having been in all of the situations. Having made all of the decisions. He patiently listened to me rattle off the things that I was worried about. And it occurred to me: OH. This is my FATHER PERSON WHO RAISED ME. Perhaps he could give me so wisdom, as fathers are often wont to do. And so, I asked the oldest of questions. Father, what should I do? He then proceeded to school me so good that at one point I said to him, I think we should talk for an hour at the end of every day and that you should guide me through all of my choices, because this would be must cheaper for me than therapy. I found myself frantically writing down everything he was saying, with a note-taking fervor I haven’t felt since undergrad. Some gems:
- There is such a thing as emotional economics. When you’re a writer / creative person, your emotions are your currency.
- And so, we should only worry about the things that are worth worrying about, or, when you sit down to do your creative work, you will find yourself emotionally spent, with no currency left to do your work.
- You must prioritize and plan out your emotions just as you do your time.
- This is a great one: Save anxiety for creative tension.
Sure, not everyone is fortunate enough to have parents that can offer this kind of perspective, but I do. I’m lucky. And so going forward, I intend to at least take more advantage of it. DAD, CALL YOU IN FIVE MINUTES TO DISCUSS ALL OF MY LIFE PLANS / WHAT WE’RE GOING TO DO ABOUT THE TERRORISTS / WHICH SHOES TO BUY! LOVE YOU THANKS BYYEEEEEEE!
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