Pebbles

Paths are made of pebbles. This pebble here may be far tinier than that massive one, or maybe the one back a ways had such pretty colors, while the one at your feet is dull and unimpressive. But say that ahead of you there is no path — you have to build it yourself out of pebbles as you go. In that case, you need every single pebble, or you're just going to stay put (or, best case, move ahead far more slowly than you want). Not only that, but the only way you can reach more pebbles, maybe even better pebbles, is to keep building the path to get to them.

That's what it's like to make a career in the arts. You have to look around you, search for pebbles (skills, experiences, accidents, what have you), grasp them, and place them before you, to support you for the next step. Writers are very fortunate in that nothing that we do or that happens to us is wasted — it's all pebbles. Some of them seem at the time to be only annoying distractions or regrettable deviations from the path we'd rather be making. But looking back along the path reveals that every pebble belonged there all the time.

Here are some of the pebbles I've picked up over the years (and it's only a very small sample of the actual list).

• Learning to ride horses
• The coaching of a really good high-school English teacher
• Camping
• Juggling (good for the brain!)
• Clarion South
• Writing one-minute plays
• Learning media and event management
• Cooking
• Living in a foreign country
• Going to science-fiction conventions (yes, it's useful for writers to do this)
• Sitting through rehearsals of other people's plays
• Being able to read music
• Learning a bit of elementary computer programming
• That job packing books in a warehouse
• Volunteering with the State Emergency Service
• Traveling to Siberia
• This one time when I was 15 and my mom took me to a production of Rostand's Cyrano de Bergerac

Like I said, that's only a partial list. Every thing on that list has come in handy, and more than handy: providing plot twists or details that I can write about, or bringing me into contact with people who have helped me immensely (God bless them), or giving me skills that make my writing better, or just plain making my imagination stronger and more outrageous.

So don't despair if you look around you and you're not where you want to be. You're building a path, with the pebbles you can reach right now. And while you're at it, why not stretch just a little further, to get a few more pebbles?

Every playwright's dream

It's excruciating, really: you've slaved over this script, spent endless hours pacing and pondering and trying this or that with varying degrees of desperation, and now that it's done, you place all its fragile and complicated beauty into the hands of people you really know very little about. Will they get it? Will they understand what you meant? Will they see your characters' nobility, or only their flaws, and make caricatures of them? Will they turn your play into something horrid?

Or will they dig, and explore, and do their courageous best to understand? Will they trust you, as you have trusted them, and find wonder and joy in your script?

There was another rehearsal for The Death of Albatross last night. The director and actors added more depth and nobility and complexity to the characters than I could have ever hoped for. They took what I'd put on the page and, through their own skill and open-heartedness, made real people out of what had been just characters. They came up with insights about them, created memories for them, found their quirks and mannerisms — in fact, they came up with a lot of stuff I wish I'd been good enough to put in the script in the first place. But then that would have left no room for their own genius, and part of the fun of theatre is leaving room for everyone else's genius, and seeing what happens.

I hope you can come to the show and see what these amazing people are doing. (Click on the link above to go to the show's Facebook page; if you "like" the page, you'll get updates, trailers, the lot.)

Starting August 1, tickets will be on sale at The Sydney Fringe website.

It's been an Albatross weekend!

I've spent most of the last few days and nights moving the production of The Death of Albatross further along its path. Filling in forms, writing and designing publicity material, editing promo clips, preparing for another rehearsal, managing logistical and administration interactions with not only The Sydney Fringe, but the Seymour Centre (our fabulous venue) as well, doing various calculations for all the fees that get added into and taken out of ticket prices — good thing I've got a terrific director, fantastic actors, a great crew, and lots of encouraging friends. I don't think I could manage this on my own. In fact, I know I couldn't. (One of the things I love about theatre is that it demands — and rewards — teamwork.)

Just a reminder: tickets go on sale on August 1 at the Fringe office. I'm really excited about the show, and I'd love to see you there!

In case you haven't been over to our Facebook page yet, you might be interested to know what some of Australia's leading theatre professionals have said about the play:

"...well-written and entertaining." -- Dr. Janys Hayes, Faculty of Creative Arts, University of Wollongong

"Funny, with great characters and a cracking narrative, the play cleverly addresses the very real impact of dying towns on their inhabitants." -- Anne-Louise Rentell, Artistic Associate, Merrigong Theatre Company

"I consider [Laura E. Goodin] to be an emerging playwright of genuine promise." -- Timothy Daly, internationally awarded Australian playwright

Oh! You might also be interested in a site I stumbled across that must have been put up by the Albatross Tourism Board, back before, well, before things happened. Here's the link.

I urge you to visit and "Like" the Facebook page to receive updates and interesting tidbits about the show (and about the town!).

Now: off to do some more Albatross work, while there's still some weekend left in which to do it....

The start of the Death of Albatross

One of the more fun experiences I've had in my life was writing and producing a 10-minute play as part of Wollongong Workshop Theatre's 24-hour Theatre event a few years back. Yes, 24 hours from "Here are your guidelines" to house lights down, curtain up. While the cast members and director slept, I wrote and wrote. (Houston composed a terrific song in three-part harmony from words I gave him at about 10 p.m.; he finished it before he went to bed, what a legend!) One of the best moments was when I printed out the scripts and arranged them on the coffee table for the cast to find in the morning — like Christmas! It was so exciting to see them there, knowing that in the morning, actors I admired and trusted would make the words come alive. (The performance was, in fact, fantastic, in case you're wondering.)

Tonight I'm getting ready for tomorrow's rehearsal — the first rehearsal — of The Death of Albatross*, the play I've written and am now producing as part of this year's Sydney Fringe Festival. This script took a lot longer than one all-nighter, and its creation included an intensive development process (thanks to the generous folk at Merrigong Theatre Company) and a whole lot of work to prepare the submission to the people at the Fringe, and at its venue, the Seymour Centre. The scripts are printed, and I've just put the big black binder clips on a copy for each actor. The food is prepared, ready to feed hungry and diligent actors for an all-day, all-evening mammoth rehearsal. It feels like the night before Christmas.

Tomorrow the magic starts.

Tomorrow, my play starts to come alive.



*Please go to the play's page on Facebook and "Like" us. It will help us get the word out when your friends, who know you have excellent taste, rush to find out about this new thing you've found. And you will get notifications about things like when tickets go on sale, where you can read/hear interviews and clips, how to arrange your next vacation in the charming town of Albatross — important stuff like that.