ATTACK OF THE THEATER PERSON

Submissions Only

2012-02-09T13:23:00.000-08:00

Can't get enough of SMASH? Check out my other total guilty geeky musical theater pleasure from the delightfully warped minds of Kate Weatherhead and Andrew Keenan Bolger - SUBMISSIONS ONLY.

SUBMISSIONS ONLY is to SMASH what an understudy is to a star - every bit as good and really bitter about it.

Favorite moments are the reading of an insipid new musical - which is, sadly, no exaggeration of many navel-gazing shows about nothing. Check out "A Trip to D'Agostino's" in Episode 3, Season 1, starting at 14:00:

Watch here.

and the brilliant Michael Urie and Kristen Johnson at the start of Episode 5, Season Two:

Watch here.

'Room' on the NAMT blog

2012-02-06T19:00:00.000-08:00

Eric Louie was just interviewed by the National Alliance for Musical Theater. He calls the book for 'Room with a View' "witty and sophisticated." I'm grateful for his kind words and support.

2011-11-24T08:22:00.001-08:00

The view from underneath.

2011-11-24T07:50:00.001-08:00

Our balloon "pilot" - who walked two and a half miles backwards

2011-11-24T04:36:00.001-08:00

I guess that's why his pants are square.

2011-11-24T04:34:00.001-08:00

Guess which part of sponge bob this is?

2011-11-24T03:53:00.001-08:00

In the macy's parade, that is.

2011-11-24T03:46:00.001-08:00

Suited up and ready to march under sponge bob

2011-11-22T13:45:00.001-08:00

Geeking out to the cast album of Follies on NPR - http://ping.fm/qFrUP

A Room with a View

2011-11-14T06:51:00.001-08:00

Two years ago today was the last day of my mother's life. I was performing a tiny role in Philip Glass's Orphee at Portland Opera - the role of the Glazier, the first dead soul Orpheus meets when he enters the underworld. The set was two parallel apartments. I left the show, went back to my mother's apartment, where I was staying in the parallel apartment next door, then slept on the floor next to her as she drifted in and out of wherever it is you go when you die. She fell into a coma that morning.

At the same time I was buying an apartment in NYC with my father, our main goal being to have a view. In yet another life is stranger than fiction situation, the apartment I was buying looked remarkably like the one in Orphee. Stranger still, Glass's opera casts Orpheus as a mid-career writer in New York.

Fiction:

Life:

Two years later I'm in a new apartment, my father having bought us out of that other one, but we still have a view.

And, in the ain't-life-strange-department today is the first day of auditions for my first musical, premiering this spring at the Old Globe in San Diego:

2011-11-13T17:04:00.001-08:00

Note: is using your middle name or initial a requirement for success on broadway?

2011-11-13T17:02:00.001-08:00

Panel discussion including samuel l. jackson, douglas carter beane, david henry hwang.

2011-11-12T11:50:00.001-08:00

The set for the gay marriage plays is so simple, yet elegant.

Godspell Revival on Broadway

2011-11-08T08:39:00.000-08:00

Don't listen to the naysayers. I was at opening night of Godspell on Broadway and found it uplifting, hilarious and moving. To quote another show, "these are a few of my favorite things. "

Full Disclosure #1: Floyd and I invested a thousand bucks to become "People of Godspell." So, yes, I have a vested interest in the show's success. But we did it not because we had any certainty whether the show would be any good, but just so we could get our names on the poster, which, due my alphabetical advantage, put us directly underneath the "ELL" in the title.

We were also interested in having access to all the investment documents because, sooner or later, we're going to be Broadway producers ourselves.

Full Disclosure #2: I'm friends with Stephen Schwartz, whose son Scott is directing the world premiere of my adaptation of A Room with a View at the Old Globe in San Diego this spring.

Here we are at intermission, after I blathered compliments about the new song arrangements, which totally rock in a way that's totally of the moment.

So feel free to discount anything I say, but the fact is, my connections to the show made me all the more leery about it. What if it sucked? I'd heard mixed things in previews and I was worried the whole thing would feel like college theater games. If the show was lame, I'd have to play the "Choose a Euphemism" game: ("That was really something" or "You did it again!")

I was hugely relieved to discover Godspell on Broadway was the polar opposite of sucky. For starters, it's the kind of theater I love best - simple, evocative, imaginative. I'm not a fan of kitchen-sink realism; I think theater should do what it does best - create live magic. The Greeks invented theater as we know it as a religious ceremony, a transcendent experience. I'm all for low humor (no surprise there), but theaters are temples for me, doing for me what church is supposed to, but never does. And what better story to experience than the Greatest Story Ever Told - with jokes?

And this production is funny - very funny. Family friendly funny. Which doesn't matter to me personally, but I thought you'd like to know. I got my seat through the lottery (cushion on the floor for thirty bucks - highly recommended), so I had a perfect view of the alumni members of the 1972 Toronto production in the audience: Victor Garber (also Jesus in the film), Eugene Levy, Andrea Martin, Martin Short and Paul Schaeffer, the musical director. Like me, they had grins from ear-to-ear. Honestly, my cheeks hurt so much from smiling I was relieved when Jesus finally got crucified.

As I sat watching those familiar faces beaming at the young cast, I imagined a time 40 years from now when we reflect on how many people in this production went on to become stars. Every member of Godspell sweats talent. It's been a while since I've seen anyone literally stop a show, but it happened twice with Lindsay Mendez and Telly Leung's full-throated renditions of "Bless the Lord My Soul" and "All Good Gifts." And Hunter Parrish is so unbelievably beautiful - like his skin is made of a different substance than the rest of us - he really does look like, well, a god.

The show strives (and succeeds) to absorb the audience - the band is actually spread out among the seats, and the audience was invited to drink wine onstage during intermission. Here I am proving that I knew outrageously talented Telly Leung when:

During intermission, I also spoke with my fellow cushion sitters, one of whom was back for her sixth time with a friend she'd made when they were frequent fliers at Spring Awakening. I've always wanted to talk to one of these die-hard fans, who, as much as I appreciate from a box-office standpoint, freak me out a little. Particularly when my cushion-mate told me she'd seen Spring Awakening 175 times.

"Why?" I said, trying not to sound judgey.

"Because it's different every time."

And with just five words, she shut me up - no easy feat. I mean, here I am this theater snob, endeavoring not to sneer at a truly fanatic fan, and she schools me in the transformative power of theater. It's an experience I'll never forget.

Producer Ken Davenport has shrewdly marketed the show heavily toward people with a "Godspell memory." The show is woven into the fabric of so many people's lives - here's mine, for instance. Indeed, at the summer drama camp I went to we said grace at dinner by singing "Day by Day."

So it seems to me the show would play to busloads of Christian groups. I don't know if Ken's reached out that segment (I'm not on those mailing lists), but he should.

If you ignore the critics and go, the one thing you won't see when you go is me onstage, which was for Victor Garber and Friends only. You see, because I was on the floor, I was a prime patsy to be chosen for the audience participation segment of the show - in this case, playing Lazarus.

Getting to act onstage in a Broadway show on opening night wasn't just a dream come true, it resounded on multiple levels. When Floyd and I left New York in 1986, Broadway was dying, along with all the people who made it. So, like the prodigal son, we fled, taking our time in the wilderness, if you will. It wasn't until my mother died two years ago that I felt ready to finish what we'd started back then. Like someone waking from a slumber in a fairy tale, her death released me to live in a whole new way. Our feeling was "if not now, when?"

Godspell's opening night was the eve of her birthday. And I got to celebrate it by playing Lazarus, who comes back from the dead.

So, yes, I'm totally biased toward this show. But I think there are a lot of people who feel the same way.

2011-11-02T12:53:00.001-07:00

"Nothing is as patient as a blank piece of paper." Jerzy Kosinski

2011-10-31T13:52:00.001-07:00

25 years ago today the best thing that ever happened to me occurred - I went on my first date with Floyd Sklaver, fell in love and moved in - all at once.

We celebrated yesterday by being toasted by friends and family. Tonight we'll commemorate the occasion alone, doing yoga together. According to the Wikipedia (so it must be true) the Sanskrit word yoga has the literal meaning of "yoke", from a root "yuj," meaning to join, to unite, or to attach.

It's our vision for the next 25 years.

2011-10-29T22:18:00.001-07:00

The geniuses at South Park beat me to writing the definitive blowjob on sunday show tune: http://ping.fm/8Q7Jb

2011-10-24T06:54:00.001-07:00

The Duchess of Windsor said that if you accept a dinner invitation you have a moral obligation to be amusing. Words to live by.

NPR article on Terrorism

2011-10-12T13:42:00.000-07:00

As I'm sure you're all well aware, I'm an expert in counter-terrorism. As such, this is what I had to say today about the terrorist plot to murder the Saudi ambassador:

http://www.npr.org/2011/10/12/141266989/terrorist-plots-two-close-calls-too-close-to-home?live=1

Actually, NPR knows I'm from Portland, which was nearly attacked last year, so they asked me. I answered.

If what I have to say interests you, please hit "recommend" or "share" it with someone else who might like it.

Free Story Structure Class at NYU

2011-09-20T07:55:00.000-07:00

Story structure seems to be the biggest hurdle for emerging writers. Luckily, I like to dissect stories the way some people like to pull apart old toasters and clocks. Because I'm nerdy that way. So I'll be teaching a free one-hour Introduction to Story Structure at the NYU Bookstore this coming Monday, September 26th at 6:30 pm.

I promise to be informative and entertaining. If not, I will give you back your hour, no questions asked.

Let your aspiring writer friends know.

NYU Bookstore
726 Broadway
New York, NY 10003

On the way to Portland airport...

2011-08-31T21:02:00.000-07:00

...passed this guy. Seemed fitting. We want to bring Portland's weirdness with us to NY. After all, Portland was Williamsburg before Williamsburg was.

Moving Day

2011-08-30T09:18:00.001-07:00

Never was a day more aptly named. The moving truck pulled up to our house in Portland, the one we moved into exactly 21 years ago tomorrow, and I felt my face spread into a face-wide smile as Floyd dissolved into tears. We looked like the masks of comedy and tragedy.

"You look just like a guy I used to work with," the mover said to Floyd. "He was a bad-ass dude." Floyd was just about to feel bad-ass when the mover added, "Yeah, then he hung himself."

(Movers Strong Like Bulls)

To say moving is a moving experience doesn't quite capture it. The packing alone requires therapy, each closet full of the Ghosts of Fuck-Ups Past. But the purge has been cleansing and cathartic.

I first wanted to leave Portland ten years ago on 9/11. I know it sounds counterintuitive to want to live in a city under siege, but I felt like something tragic had happened "at home" and I should have been there for it. Moreover, the more I heard Portlanders say how glad they were to be someplace safe, the more depressed I felt--that I had made a safe choice in my life, living in a city too irrelevant to be attacked.

I recognize how effed up that sounds, but that's how I felt.

It was former Oregonian columnist Margie Boule who convinced me to stay. "You haven't really experienced all that Portland has to offer," she said, and introduced us to one of the most original people I've ever met, Goody Cable, owner of the Rimsky-Korsakoffeehouse and the Sylvia Beach Hotel at the coast. Then How I Paid for Collegecame out and the world seemed to open up to us. Floyd became a docent at the Portland Art Museum, we both got involved with Live Wire Radio.

We immersed ourselves in Portland's creative community and opened our little house to it for a number of raucous dinner parties. Blogger Byron Beck told a rude guest to "shut the fuck up." Mayor Sam Adams ate several helpings of dessert. Rocker Storm Large first met Pink Martini's Thomas Lauderdale in our living room, and now she's touring with the band. We played Hillbilly Scrabble and Fake Porn Title Charades and made Man Soup by squeezing as many naked men as the hot tub would allow. Portland has been so nurturing to us - a moist, fertile place where just about anything can grow. But between the Hound of the Baskervilles climate and the Portlandia attitude toward ambition ("It's where young people go to retire!") I'm ready for a new adventure.

So we're off to New York, where I'm going to write for the theatre and Floyd's going to produce it. It's not a safe choice, but we were both emboldened by a recent New Yorker profile of Facebook COO Sheryl Stanburg in which we learned she had a sign put up in the headquarters reading "What would you do if you weren't afraid?"

Now we're literally sneaking out like thieves in the night--on a Jet Blue red-eye--which I suppose makes a Jet Purple eye. I know that decision has disappointed some of our friends, but the intensity of a big goodbye felt like more than we could handle. And we justify the choice with the knowledge that we're moving to a city everyone visits. In the past year I've been bi-coastal, our apartment has already been the Flophouse for Wayward Oregonians.

So here's the piano being loaded up - off to write Broadway musicals...

The (Gay Penguin) Book of Mormon

2011-07-21T08:50:00.000-07:00

Mormon actress balances faith, support for gays, and theatre in world premiere of Birds of a Feather

“I was meant to be a Mormon and I was meant to be in the theatre,” says actress Jjana Valentiner. “In the theatre, sexual orientation is a non-issue, so I find it strange when people won’t accept others for who they are.”

In an attempt to reconcile her personal beliefs with certain policies of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints this Washington, DC-based actress turned to theatre. “I view theatre in the same way I view church, as a place where all should feel welcome to come together to grapple with important issues and discover what unites us. Ultimately, we’re trying to figure out how to get along in a wonderfully large, complex family.” She is one of four actors starring in The Hub Theatre’s world premiere of Marc Acito’s Birds of a Feather, which tells the true story of the gay penguins in the Central Park Zoo, the chick they raised and the controversial children’s book they inspired. That book, And Tango Makes Three, has been among the American Library Association’s most challenged books in America four years in a row.

But it was the LDS Church’s backing of California’s Proposition 8, which eliminated marriage rights to same-sex couples, that prompted Valentiner, a devout practicing Mormon, to point out: “People who want to restrict LGBT rights—including some within the Mormon community—often paint a picture of gays as immoral and ill-suited to be parents,” Valentiner says, “But having been a persecuted people ourselves, we should never be the ones persecuting others.” She is one of a growing number of practicing Mormons calling for greater compassion and change within the faith.

The play, which was workshopped at Portland Center Stage’s JAW Playwrights’ Festival in 2009, is being performed in Fairfax, Virginia, which borders Loudoun County, where in 2007, school superintendent Eugene Hatrick succumbed to community pressure and pulled copies of And Tango Makes Three from the shelves of 16 public school libraries. Hub Theatre’s artistic director Helen Pafumi chose the play by award-winning author and NPR contributor Marc Acito in fulfillment of the theatre’s mission of being the hub in a wheel that connects varied—and opposing—viewpoints.

"Love is a rare bird,” Acito writes In Birds of a Feather, “…so if anyone is capable of toughing it out and raising their children without screwing them up too much - even if it's two gay penguins - shouldn't we be celebrating that achievement? Shouldn't we support them any way we can?”

The aptly named Valentiner agrees. “It baffles me that we continue to argue about this. I know the gay community, I embrace that community, and I’m a Mormon. When you love someone who is gay, it’s no longer about an ideological debate, it’s about families.”

Birds of a Feather, by Marc Acito and directed by Shirley Serotsky, continues at The Hub Theatre through August 7. For performance information or to buy tickets, visit www.thehubtheatre.org. Photo credit: C. Stanley

NPR Sounds of Summer Series

2011-05-30T16:08:00.000-07:00

I contributed a brief audio essay on teen drinking to this new series on NPR's All Things Considered about the Sounds of Summer.

Happy first unofficial day of season!

Focus on the Family Concedes it's Losing the Gay Marriage Battle

2011-05-23T06:52:00.000-07:00

In an interview in the June 4, 2011 issue of World Magazine, Jim Daly, President and CEO of Focus on the Family, a leading funder of anti-gay attacks concentrated on denying same-sex couples the freedom to marry, declared that the opponents of equality are being repudiated by young people and have "probably lost" on marriage, stating:

We're losing on that one, especially among the 20- and 30-somethings: 65 to 70 percent of them favor same-sex marriage. I don't know if that's going to change with a little more age—demographers would say probably not. We've probably lost that.

In other words, those who say that gay marriage will only happen over their dead bodies are probably right.

The Odds of Getting Lucky with a New Musical

2011-05-16T23:19:00.000-07:00

Brisa Trinchero of MakeMusicals.com and producer of the Festival of New Musicals at the Village Theatre in Isaquah, posted statistics on the odds of getting a new musical chosen. I geek out on stats, which is why I once spent an evening figuring out you're just as likely to fall over furniture and die as you are to get killed riding a bicycle.

Turns out you're more likely to have a stroke or get on a plane with a drunken pilot than get your work into a new musical festival. (Check out these delightfully weird stats.)

Her solution, with which I agree, is to cast a wide net by working on multiple projects and submitting a lot, which is why I'm currently working on five at once (three of which are listed here.) It's requiring discipline, stamina and focus, but I try to think of myself as an orchestra conductor, tracking multiple parts at once while working to keep it all together for a harmonious whole.

Of course, sometimes I feel like the overbooked Asian kid in The 25th Annual Putnam Valley Spelling Bee:

Take Me Back to Manhattan

2011-05-03T18:59:00.000-07:00

It's official - I'm in NY for good. Or for bad, depending on what kind of trouble I get into.

Like the immigrant who’s come to NY to find work in the rag trade, then sends for his wife in the babushka back in the shtetl, I’ve preceded Floyd here. He’ll remain in Portland until our house sells, possibly staying longer depending on his work situation. When people at parties ask where I am, he likes to tell them we broke up, though he doesn’t do it as much because it made a friend of ours burst into tears.

“If you two can’t make it, there’s no hope for love,” he cried.

So we stay together for the sake of the friends.

At my suggestion, Floyd and I celebrated my last weekend in Portland (and the first sunny one all year) by taking a ride in farm country and deliberately getting lost. I was nervous the trip would be a bust, a metaphor for the foolhardy adventure upon which we've embarked. But we ended up at a buffalo ranch, where we saw beasts that look like something George Lucas dreamed up.

Then we ate them.

FYI: buffalo jerky - not a thing.

The move is bittersweet. Floyd and I escaped NY a lifetime ago, broken people in a city ravaged by AIDS. We had a westward adventure, stopping in Colorado before settling in Portland, a nurturing bastion of weirdness, a safe place, somewhere we could heal and grow. With 200 days of rain a year, you can grow a lot.

So I finally feel like I know what I want to do with my life: write musicals. Going from being a writer of books to a book writer combines everything I’m good at – story structure, dialogue, comedy, collaboration, music and dealing with pressure.

Here's what I'm working on.

For those of you who are fans of How I Paid for College and Attack of the Theater People, please know that despite the third installment in the Theater People book being orphaned at the aptly named Random House, I will make certain it sees the light of day.

In the meanwhile, I'm teaching novel writing and story structure at NYU (starting online May 23rd, then in person this fall) and am coaching and editing aspiring writers privately.

As soon as I'm done unpacking, I'll get back to blogging regularly about things theatrical, rather than blathering about myself. But I figured I better bring you all up to date first.

Getting Off on Oregon Ballet Theatre

2011-04-21T23:01:00.000-07:00

In previewing Oregon Ballet Theatre's ecclectic program "Song and Dance," The Long Suffering Floyd wrote this for the Portland Mercury:

Oregon Ballet Theatre Artistic Director Christopher Stowell wants you to get off—on dance. When asked about the popularity of shows like "Dancing with the Stars" and "So You Think You Can Dance," he says, "I don't like the gossip or the drama, and I don't like the idea of competition within an art form, but I love that people are getting off on watching others move around."

Stowell put together a totally satisfying evening that incorporated square dancing (with a caller), hip-hop, yoga and men dancing to Cole Porter in 1930s underwear - wife beaters, boxers and garters. The mash-up allowed me to experience classical ballet through a new perspective without sacrificing the integrity of the form.

I'm all for mixing the highbrow and the lowbrow into what my Bastard Jones collaborator Amy Engelhardt and I call "the unibrow." But so often the hybrid is just excruciating, like when The Three Tenors revealed themselves to be the only singers on the planet who required sheet music to perform "Singin' in the Rain."

So I felt a carbonated happiness as I watched OBT's program succeed, because my own work seems to straddle opposing worlds - sometimes too weird for conventional people, while too conventional for weird people. Just today Portland Center Stage turned down my new play Tulip Mania for this year's JAW New Play Festival while informing me it's laugh-out-loud hilarious and commercial.

It reminds me of when my cousin Tim was premiering his show Zanna, Don't and a producer told him "the ending takes too long and feels rushed."

Then again, it also reminds me of this bumper sticker I saw recently:
Just because you're misunderstood doesn't mean you're a genius.

Center Stage at Portland Center Stage (and the Portland Art Museum)

2011-04-20T16:09:00.000-07:00

Portland Center Stage Artistic Director Chris Coleman ain't fiddlin' around in his performance in Michael Hollinger's Opus, in which he plays the first violinist in a fractious string quartet.
I've known Chris for ten years. He directed the workshop of my play Birds of a Feather at PCS's JAW Playwrights Festival. We've hung out, gone to the beach. He even once heckled me while I was raising $20,000 for the theater, so he's damn lucky I didn't return the favor on his opening night.

Seeing him act for the first time was a revelation. First off, there was the immense relief that he didn't suck. Quite the opposite, he was fantastic--real, exposed, raw. It was a particularly brave performance for a public figure because the character can be such a jerk.

I'm immensely proud of him and look forward to seeing how it affects his directing of both plays and the theater itself. According to his blog, it's already given him new insights into both.

Working on more than one side of any equation really helps your understanding of your own discipline. Like Chris, I'm a product of the Carnegie-Mellon theater program, where studying acting and directing really informed my career as a writer. Being an opera singer gave me an education in 400 years of western history. And I know I'm a better writer because I teach.

That said, I seldom take center stage. I'd much rather write a musical than be in one. But I will tread the boards this Friday night for my last public appearance in Portland before moving to New York. I'm the emcee of Objectivity, a game show produced by my partner the Long-Suffering Floyd, to promote Object Stories, an innovative installation created PAM's education director Tina Olsen, in which regular people (and irregular, I suppose) bring their personal objects to the museum and record a commentary about them.

Here's the deeply moving one Floyd did, of which I could not be prouder, and not just because it makes me sound like a helluva guy.

Objectivity is one-night only this Friday. Admission to the museum is free, so seating will be limited. I'll be joined by a panel of Portland luminaries, including NY Times bestselling author Chelsea Cain, Mayor Sam Adams, Oregon Ballet Theatre's Christopher Stowell, Daria O'Neil Eliuk of The Buzz and Helen Raptis of AM Northwest.

Here's our groovy game show music, as performed by Gwen Verdon to the Bob Fosse choreography that inspired Beyonce's "Single Ladies."

Jeez, could I drop any more names?

New Yorker article on "The Tools" for Writers

2011-04-18T04:00:00.000-07:00

This New Yorker article on the Hollywood therapist who primarily serves writers really hit me where I live.

Barry Michaels and his mentor Phil Stutz have developed an approach that uses Jungian archetypes (very appealing to us storytellers), but in new and unconventional ways. For instance:

Patients are told to visualize things going horribly wrong, a strategy of “pre-disappointment.” The tool for this, which Michels and Stutz teach to those who are hoping to win an award or who are about to submit a script for approval, involves imagining yourself falling backward into the sun, saying “I am willing to lose everything” as you are consumed in a giant fireball, after which, transformed into a sunbeam, you profess, “I am infinite.”

Sounds weird, I know, but Stutz's patients have won over a dozen Oscars. And I'm a great believer in the adage "If you want what somebody has, do what they do," so I'm intrigued. I'm particularly drawn to the idea of embracing your shadow self and welcoming pain.

Take a look. I think they're on to something.

Are Musicals Losing Their Voices?

2011-04-15T09:11:00.000-07:00

Charles Isherwood posed that question on the New York Times blog, citing Neil Patrick Harris, Catherine Zeta Jones and Daniel Radcliffe as evidence:

He writes:

Are we entering an age when being able to sing to a high standard is no longer a requirement for making appearances in even first-class musical theater productions? The unhappy answer is probably yes. The casting of movie stars has been de rigueur for revivals of classic plays for some time now on Broadway, but in the past couple of seasons we’ve seen the trend encroaching on musical theater terrain, too...

At a time when the hugely popular “American Idol” has enshrined a fine voice (of a particular flamboyant kind, it’s true) as a prize-worthy endowment worthy of national celebration, it seems a dismaying irony that Broadway should be moving in the other direction, relegating the possession of a solid singing voice into the optional category, several notches below celebrity on the list of necessary requirements.

He makes a good point, but there are two celebrities who started the whole trend. They are:

1) Marlon Brando: That's right. When Marlon Brando famously mumbled his way through A Streetcar Named Desire in 1947, it caused a revolution in acting styles. From then on, audiences have come to expect a naturalistic, conversational style directly at odds with the peel-the-paint-off-the-walls impulse of a musical. True musical theater talent have to make their name in Hollywood doing exactly the opposite of what they're good at so they can come back to Broadway to use the muscles they haven't been developing.

Even when stars aren't cast, shows seem to shy away from big voices. I've seen reliably employed Broadway talent with voices so small they couldn't be heard behind a wet newspaper.

2) Elvis Presley: When rock 'n roll took the country by storm, Broadway struggled to keep up. Indeed, the first show to integrate rock music was Bye, Bye Birdie, a satire of Elvis going into the army. To do rock-oriented shows you need amplification. Once you get a mike, you don't need a big voice. It's an arms race - the band gets louder, the mike gets turned up, the singer can whisper and the star of the show is the sound guy.

One of the reasons Merman could be heard all the way to the back row was the orchestration. Listen to those old recordings - she's not competing with the brass. She's her own brass section.

Isherwood asked if anyone else shared his anxiety. My answer is yes. So I'm glad he's talking about it.

6 Tips for Dealing with Criticism

2011-04-13T10:25:00.000-07:00

Getting criticized is a crucial part of the creative process - and yeah, it bites. When a writing student called me in a complete tailspin over a critique she received (from someone else, mind you), here are the tips I used to unspin her tail:

1) Welcome it: Keep telling yourself, "Hearing this will make my piece better. I want to know what doesn't work."

2) Consider it: Is there truth in what they're saying? If it bugs you a lot, it might.

3) Analyze it: Does it remind you of some age-old criticism? It could be bringing up the curtain on a psychodrama that has nothing to do with your work.

4) Question it: It's possible this person's perspective and biases aren't valid. Even with the best intentions, people have their blind spots.

5) Table it: Wait for an aggregate opinion and see what's the consensus. If you're getting the same note from multiple sources, go back to step #1.

6) Fix it: Sometimes the issue is systemic and requires a radical overhaul and sometimes you change one simple thing and everything falls into place. You won't know until you try.

Oh, and don't forget to breathe. Criticism won't kill you, but not breathing will.

Okay, back to work...

Upstairs, Downstairs

2011-04-11T07:45:00.001-07:00

Watched the new Upstairs, Downstairs on PBS Masterpiece last night and was reminded why a billion people worldwide watched the original.

Yes, there are all the details about British class structure and repressed "stiff-upper-lip" feelings that fascinate me (and attracted me to adapt A Room with a View as a musical) And the Long-Suffering Floyd and I totally geeked out on the historical setting (Wallis Simpson coming to dinner - tell me more!)

But what made it great was its nuanced view of human nature, how each of the characters is fully rounded with both flaws and virtues. A story about servants and masters could easily fall into the trap of making it about duality. The title alone invites it: Upstairs, Downstairs. Up, down. Yes, no. Good, bad.

While I think the balance of yin and yang is one of the great universal truths, it’s not as simple as good guys and bad guys, black hats, white hats. That kind of oversimplification doesn’t just bore me, I think it’s dishonest. It's why my favorite part of the Lord of the Rings movies was Gollum, whose central conflict was his own internal battle between selfishness and selflessness. (I say the movies because I couldn't wade through the books, which feel like work to me.)

This balanced view of humanity is also what attracted me and Broadway composer Jeffrey Stock to E.M. Forster's A Room with a View. No matter how mercilessly Forster skewers Edwardian behavior, he always digs deep into his characters’ hearts, the very place from which music springs. The impassioned pleas of the Emersons, the inner turmoil of Lucy and Charlotte, the comic foibles as cultures and morals collide—the song opportunities seem to leap off the page.

The takeaway for the writer, then, is this: Are my characters well-rounded? Is my hero flawed? Does my villain have a heart? Do the supporting characters have more than one dimension?

Okay, back to work...

Opening sentences

2011-02-07T22:56:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking a lot about openings - of the literary variety, as well the theatrical. More and more I'm seeing how if you don't let a reader or audience see clearly from the onset what they're in for, they might never get on the ride.

I'm currently working on six musicals at once, so I'm still sorting out my thoughts on what's needed there, but I can post here my thoughts on what makes a great opening for a novel.

I think the best first lines do the following:

1) Make a strong impact

2) Convey mystery and suspense

3) Relate to the overall theme of the book

Perhaps the finest example is from E.B. White's Charlotte's Web:

"Where's Papa going with that ax?" said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast.

One simple line accomplishes all three conditions. 1) What could be a stronger impact than an ax? 2) The suspense is inherent in the question and, most artfully, 3) The sentence encapsulates the entire premise and central conflict of the book, which is that Wilbur the pig will be slaughtered. Moreover, it does it in a matter-of-fact way over breakfast, underscoring White's theme of the naturalness of the cycles of life.

It's a brilliant sentence.

Here are some of my other favorites:

Tap-dancing child abuser. That’s what The Sunday New York Times from March 8, 1993, had called Vivi.
Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, Rebecca Wells

I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice – not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother’s death, but because he is the reason I believe in God; I am a Christian because of Owen Meany.
A Prayer for Owen Meany, John Irving

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, J.K. Rowling

Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself.
Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia Woolf

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins.
Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all.
The Gift of the Magi, O.Henry

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen

Someone was looking at me, a disturbing sensation if you’re dead.
A Certain Slant of Light, Laura Whitcomb

All children, except one, grow up.
Peter Pan, James Barrie

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me.
The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger

Feedback on Writing

2011-01-25T09:23:00.000-08:00

I started teaching this past week, so I've been thinking a lot about giving feedback. Funny word, feedback, calling to mind as it does sense-memories of an ear-splitting sonic boom. Which is how most of us respond to getting notes on our writing.

Let's face it, what all of us secretly want is for an influential person to read our work and praise our hitherto unrecognized genius. And even if your work is critiqued gently and accurately, it can still feel like a threat to your survival.

The internal drama goes something like this: “I dwell in a magical fantasy place of my own, an expression of my truest, purest essence. I want to share with others, but if I do anything to alter it, I’ll banish myself from my own personal Eden. Why can’t other people see this world the way I do? What’s wrong with these people?”

Or at least that's what goes through my head.

But since I've started writing for the theater, which is so collaborative, I've come to see how all storytelling is a conversation between creator and audience, a game of tennis. If we as writers don’t make ourselves understood, we are playing handball, hoping someone will sit on the sidelines and cheer.

That's not how it works. No one ever got up at an awards show and said, "Y'know, I did this all alone with no help, so I'd like to take this opportunity to thank myself." If you want to reach an audience with your work, you have to be willing to listen to them.

But that should be nourishing, not punishing. Which is why I've decided that, instead of "feedback," I'm going to give my students "feedbag."

That way they'll have something to munch on.

Broadway Musical Quiz

2011-01-19T17:14:00.000-08:00

I got 46 out of 51 on this Broadway musical quiz.

Actually, it was 45 because they didn't count my typo on Wet Side Story.

Perhaps they should just call it "How geeky are you?" and be done with it.

Philosophizin'

2011-01-18T08:30:00.000-08:00

In applying for a teaching job recently I was asked to share my teaching philosophy. I'm glad they asked because I didn't realize I had one. I mean, I knew I had ideas, but there's nothing like a direct question to focus your attention. Your attention meaning mine.

Here it is:

The summer I was sixteen I was hired to choreograph a musical for a middle-school theater program. Having been a veteran of many such performances myself, I knew what quality to expect from suburban kids with more enthusiasm than grace. So rather than teach a dance combination to assess how the kids moved, I decided instead to work from what they knew.

“Who can do a pirouette?” I asked. “Who can do a cartwheel?” The girls who studied dance volunteered, demonstrating their abilities, while I noted their names. From there, I worked my way down to the simplest dance steps, seeing who could do what. Then I choreographed the numbers to suit the varying abilities of 50 some-odd children.

The result was that everyone looked great. The students who could really dance got to show off their best moves; the ones who couldn’t were featured in parts of the dance that emphasized stage business over routines. Moreover, by grouping them according to their strengths and weaknesses, I was able to teach them all something that made them better, so that they all walked away from the experience with new skills and confidence.

That summer made a lasting impact on how I’ve approached students ever since. While I delight in imparting information and helping people of all ages to grow and learn, I still make a point to examine what the students’ points of entry are, to provide the best counsel for them to excel.

I have continually returned to teaching as a means of supplementing my career as an artist, first as a professional opera singer, then as a writer. Having amassed a substantial amount of experiences as a published novelist, commentator and produced playwright, teaching has increasingly become an essential component to my work.

As I move into a new phase of life mid-career, I am committed to building teaching into a cornerstone foundation for the rest of my life.

Few things in my life make me as joyful as raising someone’s awareness – it’s part of my mission as an artist, and motivates my enthusiasm and passion for teaching. I consider even the briefest encounter with a student to be an honor and an opportunity to put some good into the world.

And on that very earnest note, ladies and gentlemen, Kristin Chenoweth...

Broadway Bound

2011-01-14T13:39:00.000-08:00

It's official: I'm going to be on Broadway...

...on a poster, at least. Find out how you can, too here.

Words and Meaning

2011-01-11T09:00:00.000-08:00

I can’t stop thinking about Christina Green, the nine-year-old killed during the mass shooting in Arizona. I can’t – or, more accurately, don’t want to – imagine what her parents are going through – so the thought that keeps tumbling through my mind like a sneaker in the dryer is that Christina was born on 9/11. If I had created that scenario in fiction, most editors would say it’s contrived. But it happened and it’s now part of the narrative that’s being told hour by hour.

This tragedy is a perfect example of the basic human desire for stories. We’re all watching the news trying to get answers, to make sense of senselessness. It’s a way of legislating against our existential fear of the unknown. Or at least that’s what it is for me. I don’t know if I became a writer because I seek meaning or seek meaning because I became a writer.

You couldn’t construct a better narrative – the moment conservatives take control of Congress, a tragedy that seems related to their own violent rhetoric stalls them.

Regarding that rhetoric, as a writer I reject – indeed, am offended – by the claim that it had nothing to do with the act of an unstable young man. As Hub Theatre artistic director Helen Pafumi said to me on the way to the airport, “I know it’s free speech, but here’s the guideline for politicians: if what they say could get the rest of us arrested in an airport, they shouldn’t say it.”

Regardless of whether Tea Party rhetoric had a direct effect or not on a kid having a psychotic break, words have meaning and they contribute to an atmosphere. In the Too Much Information Age, the easiest way to be heard above all the blather is to make the loudest and most outrageous statement. It’s an arms race of words and it can only lead to annihilation. So I’ll say it again, because it’s so simple and wise: If what a politician says could get the rest of us arrested in an airport, they shouldn’t say it.

There seems to be a feeling in the media – who are all storytellers – that we’ve reached a turning point. But life is lived forward and only understood in reverse, so we won’t know for a while how Christina Green , who was included in a book called Faces of Hope, will be seen as a symbol. As a writer and teacher of story structure, I see two possible outcomes in how history gets written here. In the tragic version, the Hope that was born on 9/11 – the feeling that united we stand – has been killed by the kind of divisive hate that also came out of 9/11.

Or else it becomes a myth of martydom – that it took the murder of an innocent child to finally get the opposing forces in this country to finally work together.

The story is ours to write.

Conflict Resolution

2011-01-09T20:48:00.000-08:00

I've spent the last few days in Fairfax, Virginia stirring up conflict. Since Thursday, I've been working with the Hub Theatre on my play BIRDS OF A FEATHER, which tells the true story of the gay penguins so desperate for a chick they tried to hatch a rock at the Central Park Zoo, the hawks who threw bones and gristle out of a nest on a Fifth Avenue co-op, and the birdbrained human behavior they inspired. (The world premiere will occur July 15th in Fairfax, which is in one of the counties that protested the children's book about the penguins, AND TANGO MAKES THREE, the most banned book in the country three years in a row.)

I often start with theme as a writer, so I used the workshop with the director, producer, dramaturg and cast to focus on Acting 101 stuff - what the characters want and what obstacles stand in their way. It's the most basic element of drama, and yet it's rarely my entry point, both in life and in writing. For reasons too psychologically boring to mention, I've been someone extremely conflict averse. It's made me a nice guy - which is to say, frequently dishonest - but it makes me wonder whether I've backed down from challenges.

Think of it this way - the vacation that goes horribly awry always makes for the better story than the idyllic one. Because the nightmare trip has conflict. I'm not advocating looking for trouble, but avoiding it can make for a boring life story.

With that in mind, I have no story to tell about my weekend at the Hub - because there was no conflict. I stayed at the gorgeous home of a generous and gracious board member who is actually named Gay Beach (on a sidenote, it's a good thing she married the equally generous and gracious Billy Beach - she once dated someone named Barr); the creative team and cast couldn't have been more insightful and supportive in helping me find the play; and everyone got along. When I told the Hub's artistic director Helen Pafumi that she denied me a good story, she said it was by design. "I want everyone to save the drama for the stage," she said. "It's like improv: the only way forward is by saying 'yes.'"

Perhaps that's why one of the keys of success is building a coalition of like-minded people. You need a strong team to take on the inevitable conflicts.

And birds of a feather flock together.

A New Start

2011-01-02T17:45:00.001-08:00

I'm back! Didja miss me? It's been two years now since I blogged about doing something new every day and I'm finally ready to commit to blogging regularly again. Why? I finally know what I want to be when I grow up.

Perhaps I should explain.

After a mid-life crisis, a marriage crisis, a career crisis and watching my mother die, I feel like I've burnt my fields so I can begin raising new crops. I probably got that metaphor wrong, not knowing anything about agriculture, but you get the idea. It's like the Hindu god Shiva. I don't know anything about Hinduism, either, but my limited understanding is that he is part one of the Hindu trinity, the god who destroys so that that Brahma can create, followed by Vishnu preserving, followed by Shiva destroying. Over and over again.

Well, it's Brahma time.

So I'm moving to New York to write the books and lyrics of musicals. As far as I can tell, the job suits me - I'm a structure wonk who writes smart farces with heart, or as I like to call them, "smart farts." I'm an extrovert, so I prefer collaborating than writing alone. And I'm a total theater geek, as evidenced by both of my novels, as well as the third, which is due for its Brahma moment, as well.

Here's the plan - I'll return to Portland to teach my classes on story structure and the first fifty pages one more time at the Attic Institute, then will pack up and move to New York for good on April 24th. Like the immigrant who comes to work in the rag trade, I will send for my wife in the babushka (aka Floyd) once I'm settled.

What that will involve is building my teaching career so I can sustain myself while this new chapter unfolds. Luckily, I enjoy repairing stories the way some people take apart toasters, and find that teaching makes me a better writer. So I'm excited to set up shop in New York. If anyone knows of an opportunity for a writing tutor or teacher (freelance editor, book doctor, nanny/tutor to school age kids), I'm open for business.

Apropos for my new life, Floyd (sans babushka) and I celebrated New Year's Eve nine stories above Times Square in the Actor's Equity building, working as fluffers.

Again, perhaps I best explain.

We were the guests of Lauren Class Schneider, producer of the Broadway play Looped, which tells the true story of how Tallulah Bankhead took six hours to dub one line in her final film Die, Die, Darling. Valerie Harper gave an astonishing performance that revealed the humanity behind the caricature, a subject which, as the writer of smart farts, fascinates me. Lauren also oversees one of the New Year's confetti crews, which require three hours of fluffing.

Come to think of it, Lauren kinda looks like Valerie here, though none of us were looped because people throwing things out of windows need to be sober. Here's the view of the million or so people who stood in pens for twelve hours without being allowed to pee.

We were just above the stage so we saw the Backstreet Boys, aka Men of a Certain Age.

Then we removed our watches, rings and hats, took aim at Bernadette Peters...

And showered Times Square with colored paper, aka "littering."

Because we had work to do, Floyd and I had to postpone our New Year's kiss until we were done and Frank Sinatra's voice was booming all over the square:

If I can make it there,
I'll make it anywhere...

But with all due respect to Kander and Ebb, I don't think it's up to New York, New York. It's up to me. And this was as fantastic a start as I could want.

To be continued...

A (Cathartic) Night at the Opera

2010-10-27T23:12:00.000-07:00

Just got back from an experience at City Opera's NY premiere of Leonard Bernstein's A Quiet Place that's left me wrecked, spent, decimated, yet thrilled and unable to sleep. Never in my life have I responded to a piece of musical theatre the way I did tonight.

Whether the opera is a masterpiece is for others more knowledgable to decide - like Anthony Tomasini of the NY Times, who was two seats away, sitting directly in front of Stephen Wadsworth, the librettist. (Awkward much?)

I was the grateful Plus One for Michael Portantiere, who did this fascinating interview with City Opera's artistic director, George Steel.

The opera opens with an awkward funeral which I seemed to find funnier than anyone else in the theater. The deceased is the mother of the family, inspired in part by the death of LB's own wife Felicia. Having lost my mother this time last year, when one of the characters sang a testimonial paraphrasing Proverbs about "a virtuous woman," I began to sob. I mean sob. For the remaining 45 minutes of the act, I sat there shaking in my seat, inconsolable, weeping. It wasn't just my connection to the material, it was the searing honesty of the material itself. The humanity of it. Jamie described the work best as "flayed," as if her father had performed open heart surgery on himself. All of the basest emotions around death were on display - grief, pain, regret, resentment, denial - like a gaping wound. The opera reached into my own chest and pulled out my throbbing heart with its power.

It was the kind of night that makes me ache to be a better artist. And to redouble my efforts to get my work out in the world. A week doesn't go by when some well-meaning fan tells me to hurry up and get another book out and I want to scream, "It's fucking done and sitting in a drawer because the publishing industry can't seem to get its shit together." But experiencing LB's genius makes me more determined than ever to find a way to get my work out - whether it's book three in the series, or my memoir-in-progress, or the movie version of How I Paid for College, or the musicals I'm writing.

Never mind my frustration with not making money--a galling prospect for anyone--but not making art cuts even closer to the bone. I am in a race against time. Every day I am keenly aware I am one step closer to death and that I don't want to leave this life with my work unfinished. At 44, I know it's not too late, but there's no time to waste.

Every day I tell myself, "If not now, when?"

The experience tonight was all the more poignant knowing that LB didn't live to see the NY premiere of his work, dying with the memory of it being misunderstood by a Houston, Texas audience in the mid 1980s. All the more devastating to me tonight was seeing empty seats in the stunningly renovated theater. Here was a major cultural event in a first-class production--why wasn't it sold out?

If you're in NY, you must experience this landmark production for yourself. If not now, when?

Attack of the Theater Person

2010-10-25T23:45:00.000-07:00

I have been in NY for a little over three weeks, though I spent the first couple sequestered in my apartment finishing a manuscript (more on that as it develops) and getting ready to launch the Bastard Jones website, where you can listen to eight songs and read the entire first act.

The launch coincided (not coincidentally) with the annual conference of the National Alliance of Musical Theatre , which I attended as the dramaturg for producer Brisa Trinchero of Make Musicals. The experience proved unexpectedly mystical as well as musical.

Those of you know me well know that I've undergone a transformative few years: a midlife crisis, a career course correction. Since the death of my mother last year, I've largely retreated from the world, rebuilding myself as I find a new normal.

It was with that in mind that I went to NAMT's conference, networking, seeing excerpts from eight new musicals (including my favorite, a hard-rock version of Lizzie Borden). Despite the excitement, I was determined to be Zen about the whole thing. So instead of puppy-dogging around in my usual frantic manner, I simply made a list of the people I wanted to meet, then trusted I would see whomever I needed to.

On the top of my list were two NY-based companies specializing in developing new work, Amas Musical Theatre and the New York Theatre Barn.

The first show I saw I found myself on line behind composer-lyricist Sheilah Rae, who instantly befriended me, no questions asked. Afterwards, I joined Brisa for lunch with Robb Hunt, executive director of the Village Theatre outside Seattle, who was meeting some other friends. I sat down opposite two women who promptly introduced themselves as the board president and artistic director of...wait for it...Amas Musical Theatre.

As with all of the theater people I've met, we had a number of friends in common and immediately got on as if we've known each other for years. They invited me to their fundraiser featuring Forbidden Broadway creator Gerard Allessandrini. Not one to question serendipity, I'm going.

I returned to the line for the next show only to find myself behind Sheilah once again. Now keep in mind there are hundreds of people at this event. The odds of ending up behind the same person are slim. I was musing on the coincidence when she informed me of something she hadn't said earlier--that she's the board president of, that's right, the New York Theatre Barn. She invited me to their monthly showcase of emerging writers.

Not one to question serendipity, I went tonight, reveling in the youthful talent even though I felt ancient when artistic director Joe Barros mentioned he was 17 in 2001. Which means he was born the year I graduated high school.

But I respect synchronicity. The decision to move back to New York and to write musicals feels so intrinsically right to me it assuages all doubts. I'd say that my whole New York experience feels like coming home, but since I grew up 22 miles away in Jersey, it is coming home. So for the first time since the recession hit, I feel my mojo coming back. Stronger and more certain than ever.

Of course, having this view at sunrise don't hurt, neither:

Bastard Jones' Rocktastic Demo

2010-09-14T13:09:00.000-07:00

For the past two weeks, I've been in LA for the demo recording of my first--and definitely not last--Broadway musical, Bastard Jones. I say Broadway musical because it's obvious to everyone involved that's what it is, so why not put the universe on notice? Bastard Jones is rock adaptation of Henry Fielding's bawdy 18th century novel, The History of Tom Jones, a book so scandalous critics thought it caused earthquakes.

My collaborator, Amy Engelhardt of The Bobs, and I didn't encounter any earthquakes in California, but the band and the singers she gathered rocked not one but four different recording studios, thanks to the kindness and generosity of Bob DeMarco, Troy Dexter, CJ Vanston and Gary Stockdale. The demo will be available to hear next month, but here's the story so far:

First, Amy came to Portland for the month of July, during which time we wrote the entire first act in the basement of my friends David and Lisa Sloan's house while they were on vacation in Europe.

Amy wrote the music:

I wrote the book:

And we collaborated on the lyrics.

Proudest accomplishment: rhyming "papists" with "rapists."

Then it was off to LA and into the egg carton:

Here's Amy with our kick-ass band.

From left to right - Bob Malone, keyboards. Hiding behind Amy are Lynn Keller bass, and our first sound engineer, Steve McDonald. Then Adam Gust on drums and Troy Dexter on the geetar.

And Yours Happily in the studio with Yoda, who also guitar plays.

It's amazing how much recording talk ends up sounding dirty:

Where do you put the men's parts?
We're getting to much bottom end fuzz.
We need to get off faster.

Of course, it's not helped by the fact that we wrote a song called "Cock of the Walk," prompting legitimate musical conversations about needing cocks that are either bigger or longer.

After recording the band, it was to Studio #2 where Tom's Led Zeppelin shrieks, Adam Lambert high notes and Justin Timberlake purr were provided by the truly astonishing Greg Whipple, who can do anything with his voice short of fixing a car.

Joining him was the sublime Jen Malenke, singing the role of Tom's beloved Sofia.

This video is the reason why we asked her:

We took a break on Labor Day where we got to share molecules with the one and only Joan Rivers thanks to my buddy Dennis Hensley, who's a writer on her new show on E, Fashion Police. Here we are playing Joan's favorite game - Starlet or Street Walker.

My favorite comment was about Natalie Portman in this dress:

Joan: "She should only wear this on a heavy flow month."

Studio #3 found me on the mike with the hilarious Randy Crenshaw who had to say the word "fornication" multiple times. Not because he screwed up, but because we wrote it that way.

I sang a tiny bit on the recording, but my proudest achievement was that I performed both the sound of a woman giving birth and a man having a heart attack back-to-back.

Studio #4 was run by CJ Vanston, who has the hippest gig ever, touring with Spinal Tap.

Amy was very excited to find herself on top of Christopher Guest - in CJ's inbox, at least.

There we recorded the brilliant Cynthia Carle. Our last stop was back to Gary Stockdale, who also sings on the recording and plays a hilarious lisping vicar.

Amy and I are beyond grateful for the generosity and support of everyone who participated. Thank you all for doing us such a solid.

We celebrated finishing by going to the broadcast of Stand Up to Cancer, courtesy of Spidermanproducer and cancer survivor Laura Ziskin. Having worked on the yet-to-be-produced movie version of How I Paid for College through two rounds of chemo over the last seven years, the most moving moment of the night was seeing her dance in the aisles while Eric Clapton played onstage.

Then Amy and I geeked out at the after party, drinking champagne through straws on empty stomachs..
.

And eating tiramisu with - how-did-I-live-so-long-without-this - a chocolate spoon.

Since I find it easier to take pictures of the backs of celebrities' heads, here are a few. Can you guess who they are? (Answers in the labels)

Which basketball legend did Amy give a flat tire to while trying to walk backwards?

Then there were these guys:

Somehow, Amy managed to be Super Jew throughout, singing five High Holy Day services. In keeping with the Hebraic theme, I stayed with my LA caregivers, Yiddish with Dick and Jane authors Barbara Davilman and Ellis Weiner. Oh, and their Ridgeback Jackson, who is obviously a supermodel.

Jackson would like me to mention that Barbara and Ellis have a new book out, The Big Jewish Book for Jews . Check out the video. Try it, it couldn't hurt.

While Amy does the final mix, I'm back in Oregon for two weeks before heading off to NY for the fall to start another musical and pimp this one.

Stay tuned for the demo online...

Objective Correlative

2010-08-24T00:02:00.000-07:00

I've been teaching a lot lately, which I enjoy. Helping writers write better fills me up, plus makes me a better writer myself. So I've been thinking about objective correlatives--symbols that underscore the theme--and keep encountering them in my daily life.

Just this past week I left phone messages for two friends, one from Portland, the other from Manhattan. Here's the outgoing message from the Portlander:

"Please leave your name, number and your favorite color or cookie."

Here's the New Yorker:

"Leave your name and number and I'll get back to you--if you're cute or rich."

And there, my friends, is a perfect demonstration of the difference between quirky-for-its-own-sake Portland versus nakedly ambitious New York.

Likewise, I stopped over at my friend Valli's the other day while she was trimming her tomato plants. She explained to me how you should cut away the vines that aren't producing buds so that the ones producing tomatoes can thrive. Cutting away the parts that aren't producing seemed to me a good metaphor for how to live.

Getting back to teaching, I'm excited to teach my story structure class online for the first time. I love this class. From what I've gathered, it's pretty unique among writing classes because most workshops focus on writers bringing in pages of prose. My problem with that is that there's no way of knowing whether that scene even belongs in the book. So I've created a system where students work on their outlines only, focusing on the overall story. Some writers resist outlining, but I think of it more like returning to the impulse to tell a story around a fire--just tell me a story, one that'll grab me and won't let go. If you can summarize your book the way you summarize a movie you've seen, imagine how much better it's going to be when you fill it in with beautiful prose.

The class is available here.

A Helluva Town

2010-04-20T13:11:00.000-07:00

It took twenty years, but I'm finally back in New York - part-time at least. In case you haven't heard otherwise, Floyd and I bought an apartment in Manhattan with my father, so it's ours six months a year. We'll continue to be bi-coastal until further notice.

I'm here alone for two months because of Sherman the Wonder Dog. After we nearly lost him in 2008, the vet gave the Sherminator less than a year to live. So we bought a NY apartment that doesn't take pets. Why would we want to live with people who don't like animals? Two words: the view.

So Floyd and I are trading off. I got to go first to drum up work to pay for this new lifestyle. It's not that my career has been in the toilet necessarily, but it has been resting its head on the cool porcelain trying to get up. Since I arrived here, I've been rigorously networking, feeding off the energy of the city and its high-octane people.

I've also been riding my bike, which frightens everyone who knows me. My 72-year-old father brought it in from Jersey and rode it over to the apartment from Port Authority. "You might want to get the brakes checked," he said, almost as an afterthought. Of course, he'd ridden here uphill. The first day I took it out, I headed downhill in the opposite direction, only to discover the brakes didn't work at all. I had to stop myself with my feet like Fred Flintstone.

Turns out, too, that New Yorkmagazine ranked our neighborhood, Murray Hill (hence the downward slope), the most conservative in the city. We have the fewest number of gay people (4%) and the fewest Obama supporters (36%). Anytime I'm in my building's elevator with two other people I figure they both voted for McCain.

That said, we were ranked #8 most livable in New York, one of only two Manhattan neighborhoods to make the list.

And did I show you the view?

More of The Upside

2010-03-10T20:22:00.000-08:00

I've started blogging weekly at Walletpop.com. Because I'm such a well-respected economist. Surprisingly, I really love writing about finance. There's tremendous freedom, since nothing is unaffected by money.

Here's what I had to say earthquake preparation, Tiger, Toyota and Torture and that crazy Austrian who's giving away all his money.

Lastly, here's my feature on the New York Reality TV School. Yes, there really is such a thing.

Back on NPR

2010-02-17T20:41:00.000-08:00

I was back on NPR's ALL THINGS CONSIDERED today, confessing a guilty pleasure.

If you like it, please comment or hit "recommend."

WARNING

2010-02-16T18:31:00.001-08:00

My latest Walletpop piece may make you quit your job, pack up your family and move to Fiji:

Are Corporations Getting Away with Murder?

2010-02-04T15:27:00.000-08:00

I wrote about it at Walletpop.com.

New Structure Class Added

2010-01-19T13:04:00.001-08:00

Due to popular demand, the Attic Writers Workshop has added another story structure class for me. It will start Sunday, Jan 31st and continue for 10 weeks. Information is below. To sign up, contact Jill@atticwritersworkshop.com

Story Structure:

It happens to every writer--you start your novel, memoir, screenplay, or play full of excitement and then the story fizzles before you're halfway through. The answer is to master the techniques of story structure. This class focuses on how to build a page-turning tale that will keep readers up all night. Students will work in class on the mechanics of their stories-in-progress, regardless of the where you are in the process.

Time: Sundays, 10-weeks, 7:00-9:00pm, January 31 - April 4 @ The Attic Writers Workshop, 4232 SE Hawthorne Boulevard, Portland, Oregon 97215

Total Fee: $330

Deposit: $100 (non-refundable)

Email overload

2010-01-18T08:37:00.000-08:00

I've finally implemented a system for coping with email and shared it I here.

Now I just need to answer the 250 I've organized into folders.

I taught I taught a putty tatt

2010-01-15T10:25:00.000-08:00

That's right, I'm now tweeting. I figured since I'm such a sporadic blogger, the least I could do was occasionally pull something out of the grab-bag I call my brain.

So I invite you to follow me on twitter. God knows where we'll go...

Musical Theater Class

2010-01-08T14:11:00.000-08:00

Here's more info on my class on understanding musicals, taken by both Storm Large and James Beaton in preparation for Crazy Enough and McKinley for Gracie and the Atom.

It's gonna be fun!

Productivity Tips for the New Year

2010-01-04T23:22:00.000-08:00

For the first time in my career, I've rented office space - a cozy 80 square foot room of my own in an Allstate office, of all places. Not only has it made me more focused, it's provided a place to use my dead mother's best furniture. As well as her ashes, which are keeping me company until we scatter them this spring.

Having what Virginia Woolf called "a room of one's own" also inspired my latest piece for WalletPop.

Sweet, huh? It makes me unreasonably happy.

Attention Writers!

2009-12-27T22:21:00.000-08:00

I'm teaching three classes this winter on the three subjects I presumably know best - Story Structure, Musicals and Humor.

1) Story Structure - http://atticwritersworkshop.com/workshop/winter-workshop-fiction-workshop-story-structure-tuesdays

It happens to every writer--you start your novel, memoir, screenplay, or play full of excitement and then the story fizzles before you're halfway through. The answer is to master the techniques of story structure. This class focuses on how to build a page-turning tale that will keep readers up all night. Students will work in class on the mechanics of their stories-in-progress, regardless of the where you are in the process.

Time: Tuesdays, 10-weeks, 7:30-9:30pm, January 19 - March 23 @ The Attic Writers Workshop

Total Fee: $330

Deposit: $100 (non-refundable)

2) Mastering Musicals - http://www.pcs.org/classes/#Mastering%20Musicals

Sure, Broadway musicals are fun, but there’s more to them than you think. This class focuses on the basic structural components that go into crafting a musical. Through thoughtful analysis and discussion of extensive video footage, both fans and practitioners will gain a deeper appreciation and understanding of this indigenous American art form.

Course dates: Mondays, Feb. 1 – Mar. 22, from 7pm to 9pm @ Portland Center Stage
Tuition: $200

3) Laughing Matters - How to be Funny Even if You're Not

No matter what genre you work in, humor is an essential (and welcome) tool in the writer's toolkit. And like any other aspect of writing, it's a tool you can learn to use, even if you're not naturally funny. All levels and genres welcome.

Sundays, 3:00 - 5:00pm, in the loft at Annie Bloom's Books
Begins: January 31st
$330 for 10 classes ($60 deposit)

Register by e-mailing: marcacitoteaches@comcast.net

Blinding Flash of the Obvious

2009-12-27T14:39:00.000-08:00

Having re-written my play Birds of a Feather and My Secret Mystery Project, I am once again turning my attention to Book Three in the Theater People series, titled The Jazz Hands of God. Re-reading my draft six months later has been informative to me, so I thought I'd share the insight for those of you who write.

What strikes me most - beyond my relief that it's not total garbage - is how much my process mirrors my personality. What I have right now is full of laughs and cleverness, crammed with ideas and lots of activity. What's still needed is the depth of heart and the clarity of purpose. The first is no surprise to me - I dig for emotion in my work, but usually with great resistance. Feelings frighten me. (To be fair, reconciling emotional truth with a flat-out farce is a difficult balancing act.)

What surprised me most, however, was how I lost sight of what my hero wants. How his goal gets obscured amongst all the activity. As I saw it on the page, making note to clarify it, I thought how I myself suffer from the same condition. I'm an ambitious person, but my goals can get a little fuzzy. And I'm easily distracted by activities along the way.

I know, realizing the your writing reflects who you are is a blinding flash of the obvious, but what surprised me was how my actual process reflects how I experience the world. That my shortcomings as a writer are my shortcomings as a person. Eventually I'll clear away the debris to show what Edward clearly wants. But it would be nice to be the kind of person who knows that to begin with.

Naturally, in my usual myopic obsession, I failed to post my defense of Scrooge last week. Anyone who's seen my play Holidazed knows how conflicted I am about the holidays, but I'm happy to report I had thoroughly lovely day, beginning with reading Christmas cards in bed, having a heart-to-heart with my dad on the phone, then a long drive in the country with the Long Suffering Floyd, admiring the architecture of the bare trees against the cloudless blue sky. Then, because Floyd's Jewish, the sacred Hebraic Tradition of spending the day at the movies, seeing An Education, the best film I've seen in six months.

Pissing off Randroids

2009-12-09T10:02:00.000-08:00

My WalletPop piece about Ayn Rand is now pissing off Randroids and Greenspanners at the Huffington Post: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/12/08/ayn-rands-popular-again_n_384125.html

Hello, Interweb

2009-12-07T17:05:00.000-08:00

I know, it's been over a month. Actually, more like a year, as I've been a reluctant blogger for all of 2009. I think what happened is that I burned out from posting daily in 2008, so I spent the first half of 2009 in the cave working on a new book, rewarding myself with a month-long adventure in LA. At that point I thought, now I'll start posting more regularly.

Then my mother coughed up blood.

I spent the next five months either caring for her and helping her prepare to die, dedicating whatever time I could find to write. The whole experience felt too private and painful to share online, so I pretty much opted out of the virtual world. I've been pretty absent from the real one, as well. I consider myself very blessed that she and I had the time together to finish her life and have been blown away by what a transformational experience it's been. It's a seismic shift, one that has already divided my life into before and after.

My mother passed away peacefully at home on November 15th. Her bravery in facing death was heroic.

I'm still reorienting myself and hope to share more of my life here in the future. I've discovered I'm not the kind of person who wants to document his every move, but I do value making a connection with others online, so I'm striving for some balance in the coming year.

Yours,

Marco

How Not to Argue with Your Spouse - Opera Style

2009-11-05T10:26:00.000-08:00

Here's the latest at - Walletpop.

The Habits of the Rich and Thin

2009-10-20T21:09:00.000-07:00

I think many writers write what we want to learn. Hence my latest piece on the Habits of the Rich and Thin.

Another Day, Another Dollar Store

2009-10-06T09:17:00.000-07:00

Dollar Stores. Bargain bonanza or schemy marketing ploy? You decide.

Finale Ultimo

2009-09-25T22:21:00.000-07:00

Spoiler alert - Mimi died. Again. I keep hoping it'll work out differently for her.

Watching Boheme I continue to marvel at Puccini's genius. His ability to capture the effervescence of youth, as well as its heartbreak - so masterful. It made me think about the interpretation of Father Own Lee, the opera expert often heard on the Metropolitan Opera Quiz. For Puccini chooses to end the opera with the melody from Colline's "coat aria," a seemingly odd choice given that he's a secondary character. But what Puccini seems to be saying is that the sacrifice Colline makes, the maturity that he exhibits, is the experience of all of the characters. That these young people are facing mortality for the first time, and they will never be the same again.

It's a quality I thought a lot about when I wrote Attack of the Theater People. Indeed, I often played my recording of Boheme when I was writing it. My work hasn't achieved anywhere near the depth, of course, but it's something to aspire to.

Addio, senza rancor.

Act Three

2009-09-25T21:28:00.000-07:00

Puccini is a friggin' genius. Not only is the music sublime, but he's sense of dramaturgy is so unerring. PLUS he has the good sense to write really short acts. Love that.

My two favorite moments in Act Three - one is interpretative, the other the work itself. The first was so simple. Mimi (Kelly Kaduce - got to get in the habit of using the singer's name - I'm typing too fast) is leaving. Weak with consumption, she reached for the gate, but misjudged the distance, faltering for a microsecond. I don't know if it was by accident or design, but it was so touching, so real, so human. It really broke my heart.

This is what I love about art. The tiniest detail can pack such a punch and be so eloquent. It reminded me of seeing Veronica Villaroel as Violetta at the Met. I don't remember a thing about her singing, but I'll never forget her tiny white feet hanging lifeless from beneath her nightgown. If you amortize the memory of those moments over a lifetime, the cost of one's theater ticket actually turns a profit.

The second moment was actually the libretto - three simple words. "Addio, senza rancor." Goodbye, without rancor. The dignity in that farewell, the courage and compassion. It brings tears to my eyes. This is what I'm striving for in my own work - to dig deeper into human behavior. To see that accomplished so simply, in just three words. That's poetry.

Lastly, as much as I'm appreciating the show, I also find myself thinking about Rent a lot and what an amazing job Jonathan Larsen did adapting Boheme.

A word about the audience

2009-09-25T21:26:00.000-07:00

I'm pleased to see the majority of the audience dressed up for opening night. I'm not saying you need to show up in a top hat in an opera cape, but there are people who show up for the theater in clothes I wouldn't wear to wash my car. That's so not okay with me.

Phew!

2009-09-25T20:38:00.000-07:00

The opera told us we could "wear what you want, say what you want," but I must confess I was kinda worried what would happen if they show bit. Hey, it happens. With so many variable components, even the best opera companies can serve up a loser.

Well, no worries here. Not only is this Boheme utterly charming and dynamic, it's the best production of an Italian opera I've seen at Portland Opera. You see, these "spaghetti operas" are tough to cast. The fact is, guttural German or liquid French can hide a multitude of sins, as can modern music. But there's nothing to hide behind in Italian - you're wide open. And you've got to deliver the vocal goods.

And these singers do - in spades. When the Rodolfo held onto his high C it was like that Bugs Bunny cartoon where the singer holds the note forever. Except this guy didn't turn plaid.

Adding to the experience is the utterly disarming production. The singers all appear convincingly young and capture the frivolity of La Vie Boheme. I found myself grinning for much of the first two acts, except when I was tearing up. And I was especially happy that the Mimi played the role a little slutty. As a grisette, or seamstress, she would have been a woman of questionable reputation. But all too often she's portrayed as a simpering innocent twit. So it's an enormous relief to see this Mimi play the entire range of the character.

My only complaint thus far is that Maestro Allemandi allowed the tenor to take the optional offstage high C at the end of the act. As much as I enjoyed his high notes, I find the choice to be vulgar artistically. You could argue that Mimi and Rodolfo are ecstatic, but the spareness of the orchestra calls for tenderness, with her floating her high note while he harmonizes.

More at the next intermission...

More fun facts

2009-09-25T19:26:00.000-07:00

Just met a woman whose mother was a friend of Maria Callas's. Her mother kept candy bars in the freezer for when Callas visited. At first I thought she said Three Musketeers, which worried me because I was afraid I'd lose all respect for Callas. I mean, Three Musketeers? Those suckers are made of plastic and air.

But it turned out to Milky Ways, so it's okay.

Upcoming Opera News

2009-09-25T19:16:00.000-07:00

I'm especially excited to be here tonight because, after a six year absence, I will actually be treading the boards in an opera once again, performing the role of the Glazier in the West Coast premiere of Philip Glass's Orphee.

I still don't know why Portland Opera asked me, but it's going to be totally fun and, frankly, the pay is excellent, particularly when you consider that I will sing a whopping six measures. Here's the crazy part - it's actually quite hard to sing. But I only have to learn one word, which I sing three times.

But I won't tell you what it is. For that you'll have to come to the opera.

Fun La Boheme Facts

2009-09-25T19:06:00.000-07:00

There are a hundred people in the actual show - 48 in the chorus, 20 supers, 16 kids and 8 principals - plus the 68 in the orchestra and several dozen on the crew. What's known in math circles as a shitload of people.

Since Act Two takes place on the streets of Paris, every person onstage is either a seller or a buyer, meaning hundreds of props change hands and have to find their way back for the next performance.

I also learned that the used (or "dirty snow") gets reused on the ground so that only new, clean snow falls on the heads of the performers. And, no, there's no yellow snow. I asked.

We bloggers sit in the lobby before and after the show and during the intermissions, which is great because it means we don't have to make small talk.

Plus we get free drinks and cookies.

A Night at the Opera

2009-09-25T18:45:00.000-07:00

I'll be honest - I didn't think I'd ever need to see La Boheme ever again. I mean, I'm the guy who did something new every day for a year. But when Portland Opera asked me if I'd blog live from the performance, I couldn't turn them down. Mostly because of those comps. Oh yeah, and my love of the arts and whatnot.

So Floyd - who's blogging at justout.com - and I got a backstage tour. You'd think that since I was an opera singer and Floyd a frequent supernumerary, it wouldn't be interesting, but I never tire of going backstage. It's like being between two worlds.

So here's Floyd in the Parisian garret:

And me looking inappropriately happy by the bed where Mimi will expire of consumption.

Then the fake snow balls:

And Floyd working the stage manager booth:

Creative Funding for the Arts

2009-09-22T11:10:00.000-07:00

The artsy fartsy among you might be interested to learn about these sources I wrote about at Walletpop.com.

That's Doctor Acito to you

2009-09-22T10:41:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I returned to my alma mater, Colorado College, to receive an honorary doctorate. I'll be honest (what does that phrase mean? That I'm usually full of shit?), the honor weirded me out. I mean, I'm currently underemployed and hustling to figure out how to stay in the game, yet I'm worthy of a doctorate? Aren't those given as the academic equivalent of the lifetime achievement award? But of course I went, musing at yet another sympton of my bi-polar career: in some situations I'm a rock star, other times it's like "Marc who?"

As with most things, my anxiety laid to rest once I got there. What I didn't know is the CC gives out doctorates every year at Freshman Convocation to distinguished alumni in mid-career "as examples of what students can aspire to when they graduate." And I was one of three, including Krista Smith, the west coast editor of Vanity Fair who, among other responsibilities, throws the VF Oscar party, and T.J. Cole, a juvenile and family court judge in Boulder who already has four actual degrees.

But it was yours doctorally who gave the keynote address, which I was really proud of until I listened to it here. You see, I've been making an effort to concentrate on breathing in a calm, yogafied manner. What I didn't realize was how much I was making truly noisy nasal inhalations. I sound like I'm snorting cocaine. Which is maybe why the kids liked it so much.

The Recession and the Future of Marriage

2009-09-08T10:21:00.000-07:00

Turns out being unemployed can help your marriage.

Who knew?

I know how this is supposed to work...

2009-08-29T14:19:00.000-07:00

In the Brave New World of the Blabbersphere, I'm supposed to keep a running update on my every movement, bowels included. As you no doubt have noticed, I haven't been able to keep it up this year. I hope I'm disappointing anyone too much. It's just that too often I find myself choosing between living my life or chronicling it. I don't know how other people do it.

So I feel sheepish just now posting photos from--hello--May. But better late than never, I suppose.

While I was in LA I sat for painter Don Bachardy, the longtime partner of one of my favorite novelists Christopher Isherwood. It's no exaggeration to say that it was a dream come true. When I first read Isherwood when I was 24, I fantasized about becoming a novelist like him and having Bachardy paint my portrait. Nearly twenty years later, it actually happened.

Don captured something weird and unsettling about me. In both sittings I was self-conscious about certain features, which he instinctively emphasized. I found the whole process intriguing and plan to sit again the next time I return to LA. Don is an enchanting and fascinating person, full of impish vitality at 75.

The Sex Industry and the Recession

2009-08-18T19:19:00.000-07:00

Here's the result of my research into how the recession has affected the sex industry.

More Borneo

2009-07-24T23:37:00.001-07:00

Here's more on my Indonesian adventure.

As Good As it Gets

2009-07-22T22:26:00.000-07:00

Few things in my life have made me prouder than participating in this video:

Glad to see that operatic training was good for something.

And, since my v-jay-jay is eight miles wide, I was also chosen by the nation's largest lesbian magazine as their first Lesbro.

The rewards for leading the unconventional life are just that.

The Play's the Thing

2009-07-20T23:42:00.000-07:00

Portland Center Stage's JAW Playwrights' Festival is eating me alive. I haven't had more than four hours sleep a night since it started, what with all the rewrites.

That said, I wouldn't have it any other way. I have a dream cast, an astonishing support staff and a director whose approach is like good sex--gentle but vigorous. I couldn't be happier with how my new play is developing there.

Hope those of you who are around will come to the free staged reading this Friday, July 24th at 4 PM at PCS.

Hello again

2009-07-13T01:00:00.000-07:00

There's a scene in The Ice Storm where Kevin Kline returns from a trip, announcing to his kids "I'm back." And his son looks up at him and says, "You were away?"

That's how I feel right now as I announce my return from Borneo, a trip I failed to mention because I've become a haphazard blogger. Long short, I went deep into the jungle to look at orangutans, assisting my friend Eve Yohalem on her next novel. The trip was nothing short of astonishing. But more on that in the next post. In the meantime, my latest Walletpop piece posted while I was away.

Latest NPR commentary

2009-06-26T01:20:00.000-07:00

I celebrated the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots with this commentary on NPR's All Things Considered,

Blogging Elsewhere

2009-06-23T13:49:00.000-07:00

Hello friends,

Since returning from LA I've been in the cave working on multiple projects at once, which is yet another excuse for not updating my blog regularly.

But here are a couple of posts found elsewhere: one about the death of Ed McMahon, the other about the financial upside of marriage equality.

Okay, back into the cave.

New Walletpop

2009-06-09T14:16:00.000-07:00

More on my Hollywood dreams - and nightmares -- at Walletpop.com.

More inspiration

2009-06-09T14:13:00.000-07:00

One of the many things I love about the Mesmer Project is learning how others motivate themselves. It gives me strength to persevere.

Today's puppet day!

Hooray for Hollywood

2009-06-07T10:59:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I know, part of the point of a blog is to give updates practically as they happen. But my month-long adventure has been so jam-packed with activity I had to choose between experiencing it or chronicling it. Sorry for the delay.

Certainly one of the highlights was attending the red carpet premiere of The Hangover. It's a completely different experience than the one portrayed in magazines or on TV. For starters, it's almost hostile--the photographers and the fans screaming at the celebrities in a way that seems more angry than happy. And the celebrities make up such a small part of the audience. If you open a magazine and see a couple of dozen actors, the event seems star-studded. But what you don't see are the thousand other people also there for the movie.

And, despite the designer outfits, people still buy popcorn at concessions.

Security doesn't allow bystanders to hang out on the red carpet, but I managed to get a spot just beyond the velvet rope, affording me excellent opportunities to photograph the backs of several celebrities.

Here's Jim Carrey:

And Hangover star Heather Graham in red:

And one of the Olsen twins, I'm not sure which:

I so enjoyed getting their backs I actually forfeited the opportunity when Zac Efron looked right at me.

For more on the experience, check out what I had to say at WalletPop.com.

Coming soon--LA Trip update

2009-06-04T10:59:00.000-07:00

In the meantime, here's another fascinating person.

Upside #2

2009-05-28T23:39:00.000-07:00

What do budgeting and dieting have to do with one another? Here's what I had to say about Obama's appointment of Thomas Frieden to head the CDC at WalletPop.

Another Fascinating Person

2009-05-27T09:39:00.000-07:00

Here's the latest from the Mesmer Project. Inspiring, as always.

New Column

2009-05-20T05:49:00.000-07:00

I've got a new gig: writing for aol's finance site, WalletPop.com. Y'know, because I'm such a noted economist.

Actually, they wanted an irreverent but upbeat spin on life in the New Economy. So introducing The Upside.

It'll appear every other week. I'll be certain to post the link here each time.

New Things #382-390

2009-05-20T00:48:00.001-07:00

Greetings from Los Angeles, where I'm completing research on book three and working on developing the whole series for television. What's more, this trip has provided me the opportunity to catch up on doing more New Things.

Beginning with the Long Suffering Floyd and I installing a bike rack on the back of my car (#382), surely the greatest technological achievement in the history of the world.

From there, I embarked on the 1,000 mile trip alone, another first (#383). I stopped in San Francisco, where I visited a fortune cookie factory (#384) which I learned are actually folded by hand.

Then I drank my first bubble tea (#385), courtesy of my friends Kathy and Dave. Imagine a smoothie filled with wads of gum.

Then a stop in Carmel to meet Jeanne Adams, the daughter-in-law of photographer Ansel Adams and a fascinating futurist and philosopher.

She believes all of life can be categorized according to edges, intersections and parabolas. Think about it--in any situation there's always something on the outskirts, something intersecting and something returning.

I love ideas people, but I try to meet so many of them I won't count it as new. As a matter of fact, I feel so fortunate that fascinating people are a regular part of my life.

Then I made a pilgrimage to Hearst Castle, (#386) which I loved unreservedly, and where I also saw hundreds of elephant seals on the beach (#387)

And now a little studio in Hollywood at the base of Griffith Park, where I get to hear coyotes howl at night (#388) Actually, yelp is more like it. They sound like a band of chihuahuas being strangled. The other night one crossed the road (#389) while I was on my bike. Y'know, the one I transported down. So I could research LA close-up.

The trip has been like one long "Artist's Date," as Julia Cameron calls them in The Artist's Way. A chance to recharge my batteries.

Oh, and did I mention I experienced my first California earthquake?

Yeah, that was #390.

Mo' Mesmer

2009-05-08T00:13:00.000-07:00

Please check our latest entry in the Mesmer Project. She committed to and performed 1,000 acts of kindness.

I'm Back

2009-05-06T22:47:00.000-07:00

Hello Blog Friends,

First an apology - once it became clear I wasn't going to be able to post, I should've told you so. There's nothing more irritating than checking a blog and not finding updates. I hope you'll understand when I tell you that my reason: I've finally finished the first draft of part three in the Theater People series, THE JAZZ HANDS OF GOD.

I did take a night off, however, to enjoy the Red Dress Party in this original creation by Shakir Najeb.

I'm not actually that much taller than Floyd. I'm in five-inch heels. Which only lasted a couple of hours.

All Things Considered

2009-04-16T21:55:00.000-07:00

In honor of the fiftieth anniversary of Strunk & White's Elements of Style, I did a commentary today on NPR's All Things Considered.

It's ridiculously silly and I'm really proud of it. If you like it, I'd be grateful if clicked "recommend" or left a comment at npr.og.

New Thing #381

2009-04-11T23:18:00.000-07:00

I've been experimenting with rubber...

But first, my apologies for being so haphazard in my posting. I'm working on several projects at once and feel most days like I'm in an altered state with no sense of how much time is passing. As such, my Adventures in Newbosity have been of the small, domestic variety.

Hence my experimenting with rubber. No, it's not as sexy as you think. Get your minds out of the gutter.

You see, as my hair grows in, I've been experiencing a steep learning curve with dye. For instance, the box tells you to apply it wearing gloves. But it doesn't say to wear them when you're washing it out. Which is why I had to scrub my palms with bleach.

They also don't tell you that the dye is one-time use only. So if you want to touch up anything you missed the next day, you have to buy a whole new box. This time, at least, I kept the gloves while rinsing it out. I was about to take them off to finish my shower, but in the spirit of trying Something New, I washed myself while wearing the gloves.

It was a dissatisfying experience, like I didn't like myself very much.

Contrarily, I've finally started wearing rubber gloves while doing the dishes. Typically I like splashing in the hot water because I have poor circulation and my hands are always cold. (Gee, fun facts about the author. Aren't you glad I blog?) But Floyd has long complained how I stretch out all our sleeves when I roll them up. And (more fun facts coming) all that washing dries out my cuticles.

So, while the the rubber glove thing makes me feel a bit like a fuddy-duddy, like someone wearing shoes at the beach, it's saving my sleeves and my cuticles.

And, really, what is more important than that?

Oh my. I hope you believe me when I tell you that the writing that's keeping me from blogging will be much more interesting than posts like this.

In the meantime, here's the latest hair update:

More mesmerizing

2009-04-09T13:20:00.001-07:00

Need inspiration? Check out the latest fascinating person at the Mesmer Project.

Bad news, Good news

2009-04-04T10:19:00.000-07:00

First the bad news: Pulitzer Prize winner Seymour Hersh has revealed that ex-vice prez Dick Cheney--aka Voldemort--had a team of international assassins that reported directly to him.

The good news is that the redemptive, joyful, goofy spirt of musicals is alive and well in an Antwerp train station.

As far as I'm concerned, this is how we're going to conquer global terrorism.

Update

2009-03-31T20:20:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't blogged lately. I've been in the cave cooking up several projects, y'know, on account of this recession thing. (Perhaps you've heard something about it.)

However, for those of you in the Portland area, I'm emerging Thursday night to do a gig with musician John Wesley Harding and comic Eugene Mirman at Mississippi Studios, in which I will tell a disgusting story and sing a filthier song.

In other news, my upcoming fashion debut has just gotten cheaper! (Like me.) You can get $25 off a $75 ticket by putting in the code "Fashion" at reddresspdx.

Here's my fitting in muslin, with designer Shakir Najieb:

It might be worth fifty bucks just to see me fall on my ass in those shoes.

Thought for the day

2009-03-24T15:58:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm not doing something new every day, I'm finally catching up on the knee-high stack of accumulated magazines. An article that struck me in particular was about conservative icon William F. Buckley.

Here's what Bob Colacello wrote about Henry Kissinger's euology:

At St. Patrick’s the faithful responded to Kissinger’s emotion-choked eulogy with sustained applause. “Bill Buckley inspired a political movement that changed American politics,” the former secretary of state intoned. “He founded the National Review that, for over a generation, has shaped American political discussion; he hosted an influential talk show [Firing Line] for 30 years; he wrote an elegant column. Every year, he authored a beautifully written novel; in what passed for his spare time, he produced several nonfiction works and delivered over 50 lectures annually. He was a passionate skier, an accomplished harpsichordist, and a daring sailor. He wrote as Mozart composed, by inspiration; he never needed a second draft … this noble, gentle, and valiant man who was truly touched by the grace of God.”

I agree with Buckley on precisely nothing, but I couldn't help but be impressed. A book a year? A lecture a week? Not to mention beginning an entire movement.

Frankly, I think the guy must have been twins.

New Thing #380

2009-03-23T10:28:00.000-07:00

Sure, filing taxes suck, but this year marks the first time that Floyd and I could file jointly as domestic partners.

Don't get too excited, it's not as good as all that. Domestic partnerships aren't recognized federally, yet the state requires that in addition to our separate federal forms we must also file a dummy federal form, asking that we write the words "as if" across the top. I kid you not. I imagine clerical functionaries seeing the form and snapping in the air, crying, "As if."

Gayer still is that the state refers to registered domestic partners as "RDP," which everyone in Portland knows stands for the Red Dress Party. Speaking of by the way, I'll also be taking part in a Red Threads for Model Citizens, a fashion show fundraiser for the charities the party funds. I'll be modeling couture by designer Shakir Najieb.

FYI, the sketch on the left is the front.

Both events promise to be nights you wished you remembered, so I hope to see all you Portlanders there. Until then, I'll be on the Gandhi Diet.

New Thing #379

2009-03-20T12:00:00.000-07:00

Neil Simon wrote: "Words with a 'k' in it are funny. Alka Seltzer is funny. Chicken is funny. Pickle is funny. All with a 'k'. 'L's are not funny. 'M's are not funny."

It was with this thought in mind that I ate my first kumquat, the silliest-sounding fruit since Liberace. You eat it with the skin on, which wasn't so strange, but it's sour, which is.

I recognize this isn't the most groundbreaking of New Things, so I figured I better throw in another of equally insubstantial value. You see, while my mid-life crisis has abated, my gray hair has remained. You can't tell from these pics, but I discovered that one of the downsides the recruit haircut has been the discovery that my gray grows in blotches, like crop circles. That, combined with the remaining gold dust from bleaching has made for a patchy chemotherapy chic, so I decided to unify things by dying it all.

I know, some of you will argue that I've already bleached my hair as a New Thing, but I'd like to clarify that bleaching is removing color, dying is adding. For starters, I was advised to tape my hairline so I don't stain my skin.

That was fun.

So here's the latest for the Hair Museum, which is at least three dos out of date.

PS Thanks, TimMcNichol, for both the kumquat and telling me my hair looked weird.

On My Mind Today

2009-03-18T08:03:00.000-07:00

1) Am still obsessed with understanding what a trillion looks like.

According to the Washington Post, if you counted out in $1,000 bills, a million dollars would be a stack 4 inches high. A billion dollars would be 358 feet high. And a trillion? 67.9 MILES high.

Which leads to my other thought:

2) Who is on the $1,000 bill? I didn't even know such a thing existed.

It's Grover Cleveland, forgotten but not gone.

Turns out the bill isn't in circulation, which kind of screws up the Washington Post's math.

3) Naturally, I had to find out who's on the rest of the money.