Telling Stories My Way

Storytelling has many legs; each of which are meant to carry an audience to some conclusion. The trick for the storyteller is to unravel his/her story in a manner true to himself. Too often, writing magazines and how-to seminars advocate that the writer must slant his story to the needs of an audience. I think that’s the wrong approach. I think the writer has to be true to his own vision and tell the story ‘As he sees it.’

It’s a pattern and process that happened to me a (relatively) long time ago and has been true ever since. This first opportunity to tell a story in play form was initiated by the creation of a senior ensemble of theater folks in our community. RAAC (the Rosemount Area Arts Council) had just created a second theatrical group called Second Act Players. They were looking at material for their first production.

I thought I might write a play based on an idea that had crept into my brain a long time ago and lodged there. The storyline was simple enough. An aging old woman who never really gave up her old hippie lifestyle finds herself in an over-55 senior living facility. The storyline incorporated many elements I found interesting such as the old hippie movement, distain for ill-gotten authority, a push-back against old age, etc.

A simple synopsis of the play would read as follows: The quiet setting of this over-55 senior community is disrupted by an aging hippie named Sage. Since Sage arrived at the senior community strange things have started to happen. Sage’s nemesis is Margaret Maple; self-appointed rule-enforcer who is determined to get Sage kicked out of the complex.

Their conflict comes to a rollicking climax when the administration is supposed to kick Sage out but Sage has some shocking surprises which will blow people’s minds and destroy all of Margaret’s plans.

Encouraged by the success of ‘Riot’, I forged ahead with another idea of a class reunion. Room 210 was my own homeroom in high school. So, in this new play, room 210 is the home room where a small group of alumni gather during their 50-year high school reunion. Tension, anticipation and past animosities fill the room along with unrequited love and hope for the future. Each returning alumni has a different story to tell, some more revealing than others.

Batting a double run thus far, I chose to explore ‘end of life’ options facing four older women in their retirement years. The storyline is simple enough: Four women in a nursing home agree to support one another as the end of their lives gets closer. A mysterious woman (the Scooter Lady) offers them wisdom and advice for the hereafter.

Later on, I was fortunate enough to have two more plays produced in California. Reflecting the more liberal, sometimes avant-garde approach, to storytelling in the Golden State, I decided to tackle gay loneliness and a polyamorous relationship.

Polly’s Amorous Adventures is about a polyamorous relationship gone south. Polly is in a polyamorous relationship with two men but she is not able to address the issue of jealousy. Polly’s mother and girlfriend only add to Polly’s mounting frustration with this issue.

The story synopsis is, on the surface, simple enough. Two older single gay men find themselves alone and in need of companionship. One has a younger boyfriend who is using him. An older woman tries to help the men explore the simple joy of friendship. Nominated for six awards from the Desert Theater League. Won ‘best award’ for theatrical production.

These past plays plus a plethora of new ones prompted me to create a new Sell Sheet for all of my available plays. In the meantime, I’ve added another element to the theatrical equation; song-writing. PTV is my first play to include nine original songs written in collaboration with a very talented singer/songwriter here in Minnesota. I hope ‘By the Salton Sea’ will be my second one.

Storytelling is a personal journey inside one’s head. It’s a vision, often times, augmented, enhanced, stilted and clipped short by the author’s own psychic. But it is his/her story to tell. One can only hope that it is a message/tale that resonates with the audience. But, as long as it rings true to the author, it’s a story worth sharing.

Requiem for the Salton Sea

We’re not in item yet but if this maintains its present course, that might be an option.

I’m not talking romance but rather another possible collaboration born out of mutual love of music and story-telling. The subject of this mutual affection/collaboration are two plays. One is already infused with a wonderful selection of musical numbers to accompany the storyline. The second play is now screaming for musical adaptation and is being mentally formulated as I pound out this blog.

Unfortunately, there’s no immediate urgency since both plays have been rejected and it’s back to square one in terms of their theatrical placement.  ‘I do believe both plays are brimming with potential,’ claims their birth father, so the challenge remains daunting.

This collaboration in question initially began last year with a play entitled: PTV. I had written the lyrics for nine songs for the play but was stymied by my inability to write melodies to fit the lyrics. Enter AJ Scheiber, a very talented singer-songwriter, who agreed to look over my feeble attempt at lyric writing and added his musical expertise. The results are nine songs written specifically for the play.

In the meantime, another one of my plays had been submitted to the Script2Stage venue in Rancho Mirage, California, for consideration for their 2023-2024 season. It didn’t make the cut out of 130 submissions from around the world. That was disappointing for any number of reasons not the least of which was the subject matter which I thought was perfect for that venue and its audience.

Fast forward six months and now, unfortunately, the venue, Script2Stage, had closed down. This has made my options for theatrical placement in the Coachella Valley even more limited. Nevertheless, I want to continue to pursue this idea of musical numbers for my play which is now entitled ‘By the Salton Sea.’

I’ve always been fascinated by the Salton Sea and the area surrounding it. Salvation Mountain, The Slabs, Bombay Beach, North Shore, small towns along the shore and the Chocolate Mountains are all a backdrop for that briny pool of dead water and the fragile desert surrounding it. The area is home to many homeless folks and/or those who just want to disappear from the rest of the world. This became the backdrop for ‘By the Salton Sea.’

There are parts of the Coachella Valley that most tourists, visitors and locals-alike never see or care to visit. You won’t find them listed in ‘points of interest’ or top tourist destinations…and for good reason. This is where the ‘under-served’, ‘don’t want to be found’, ‘unaccounted for’ and ‘those on the lam’ come to hide. It also presents a warm, inviting cocoon for artists, bohemians, addicts, and the like to congregate and flourish.

Into that setting, I envisioned some nameless town along the shoreline that had attracted a strange gathering of the lost, the disappeared and those who want to be off-the-radar. As the playwright, I wondered who these people were? What was going to happened to them? And finally, who really cared?   A quick backstory here.

The Salton Sea is California’s largest lake measuring more than 35 miles long and 15 miles wide in spots. It has a surface area of over 380 square miles and sits at 332 feet below sea level. The sea was created back in 1905 as the result of an accidental break in a canal cut into the Colorado River. For 16 months, the river ran unchecked into the lowest area around; the salt basin which became the Salton Sea. Nearby is Salvation Mountain.

Salvation Mountain is one of the premiere examples of folk art in the middle of nowhere America. The site has become a mecca for those influenced by and intrigued with this kaleidoscope of painted hills, crude cave dwellings and religious scripture. The cave’s paint can and hay bale construction would challenge even the most daring of spelunkers. Down the road is an abandoned World War Two camp nick-named ‘The Slabs.’

Slab City is a snowbird campsite used by recreational vehicle owners alongside squatters from across North America. It takes its name from the concrete slabs that remain from an abandoned World War II Marine barracks called Camp Dunlap.

It’s estimated that there are about one and fifty permanent residents (squatters) who live in the slab’s year around. Some survive on government checks; others just want to live ‘off the grid’ and a few come to stretch out their retirement income. The camp has no electricity, no running water, no sewers or toilets and no trash pickup service. Sounds like a dry run for the apocalypse.

No trip to Slab City would be complete with a swing by East Jesus. East Jesus has been described as an experimental, sustainable art installation. It’s is a colloquialism for the middle of no-where beyond the edge of services. Made from discarded material that has been reused, recycled or repurposed, East Jesus encourages visitors to imagine a world without waste in which every action is an opportunity for self-expression.

I think West Satan is a simply an extension of East Jesus. I found this second art gallery-in-the-sun fascinating and mind-expanding. It was like tripping out without the acid and a glimpse into the lives of those who don’t want to be a part of ‘any scene’ here in fantasy land or the rest of the world.

I thought the story was too good to be lost and forgotten in some junk pile of rejected scripts. So, I’ve decided to add musical numbers (just like PTV) as an enhancement to the play. I’ve shifted through those words, phases, and images encased in my brain and wrote out lyrics describing that place all within the context of my storyline.

And thus begins a new series of rewrites to smooth out the dialogue and scene settings to better segue into song. Much like PTV, it’s both an immensely fulfilling and yet very arduous process. In the end, I hope it will infuse ‘Salton Sea’ with another layer of interest that might help sell the concept to the next venue I approach. Here’s hoping.

I Have Seen the Elephant

The phrase: ‘I have seen the elephant; I have heard the owl’ is an American colloquial phrase that refers to gaining experience of the world at a significant cost. It was a popular expression in the mid-to-late 19^th century throughout the United States beginning with the Mexican-American war and beyond.

Pioneers would speak about ‘seeing the elephant’ in their journeys west. James Michener in his novel ‘Centennial’ made it a key point in the life of one of his characters. For that young adventurer, it was an experience that left him shaken to the core and uncertain about his future.

Over the years, the phrase has become immersed in western novels, war stories and more poignant story-telling such as Margaret Craven’s wonderful novel ‘I Heard the Owl Call My Name.’ It’s been referenced in many bible stories highlighting those watershed moments and end of life experiences some biblical characters have faced.

It’s been argued that you don’t really know who you are until faced with a catastrophe or a near-death experience. Some will say that our best life experiences come through affliction and challenges we never expected to encounter. It might be an athletic event that stretches your abilities to their absolute maximum. It could be a personal struggle with health issues, personal or social relationships or any number of personal challenges.

Now to take that argument a step further I might also suggest that for many people the very act of planting one’s feet on a theatrical stage could be akin to ‘seeing the elephant.’ Over the years, there have been a number of octogenarians and their younger compatriots who agreed to do just that in several of my plays.

Creating plays has always been part of my writing arsenal. RAAC, the Rosemount Area Arts Council, in Minnesota and Script2Stage in California have both provided wonderful venues for me to showcase some of my plays. Actually, it started in the early Seventies in Tennessee.

My first experience with Community Theater started back in Tennessee in 1972. I had left public television in Minnesota to spread my wings in the Deep South. The Chattanooga Little Theater became my refuge. I crewed on the first play of the season and then acted in three more. Around the end of our fourth play, I was offered a new job in Maryland and my brief, ever exciting career as a thespian came to a sudden halt until years later.

I think a lot of my fellow actors found their true selves on stage. Much like politicians whose only claim to fame is their small town title, these folks truly embraced their new pretend persona. It made them feel accomplished and whole and fulfilled. I never reached that level of self-satisfaction. I was always more interested in the story-telling aspect of the theater and not the acting part of it.

Artists of another ilk have found refuge in an old building in downtown Palm Springs. The Palm Springs Art Center hosts a revolving gallery, art classes, etc. Some of those seniors may ‘see the elephant’ while others might ‘hear the owl.’ But either way, vision or not, it proves to be a great experience for them. They took a chance and risked the fear and trepidation for a chance to do something challenging, something exhilarating, something that many of their colleagues could only hope to accomplish.

The Palm Springs Writers Guild has, for years, been guiding, encouraging and educating hopeful authors in the craft of writing and publishing their own works of art. One could easily equate this group of vernacular warriors with those ancients seeking the Elephant and listening for the Owl. Each and everyone of them on their own personal quest to face their fears and solidify their future.

And always on the lookout for the elephant and the owl. In my case, it might be a skinny little hippo.

Summer of Strange Occurrences

Sharon broke her right arm three days before leaving Palm Springs this spring. Thus began a rather disjointed (pardon the pun) and disruptive summer for both of us back in Minnesota. Of course, her broken arm was her good arm. So, suddenly sporting a cast for more than five weeks, made her feel unbalanced and (understandably) it was difficult it for her to navigate steps and stairs. The accident also made it more difficult for her to continue her painting projects.

So began a summer of adjustments for Sharon’s new situation and a real challenge for her to continue painting as she had in the past. It also involved two trips weekly; one to Edina and another to Red Wing to deal with therapy and rehabilitation. You do what you have to do.

My Coffee and Chat sessions also went through some adjustments as a couple of folks disappeared entirely and others found more interesting ways to spend their time. The core friends that remained formed a tight bond over the summer. Over the ensuing months, we had some fabulous conversations; solving many of the world’s problems in just one sitting.

I finally got an E-bike and wanted to restart my beloved long distance Twin Cities bike rides. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find a suitable e-bike carrying rack so I had to confine my rides to Apple Valley and its surrounding communities.

A sibling gathering up at Lake Vermillion proved a wonderful opportunity for Sharon and her sister and two brothers to finally find time for themselves sans kids and grandkids. A grand time was had by all.

Sharon and I managed to find time for a long weekend in Colorado. At this stage in their lives, Brian and Amy have three kids knee-deep in all kinds of school activities and sports. It was a quick taste of their crazy, hectic wonderful life raising three kids in today’s hurry-up lifestyle. Now we can just sit on the sidelines, cheering our grandkids on and enjoying their success.

A move script outline that had laid dormant for years finally rose above the rest of my other writing projects. Starting to write ‘Habitat for Humility’ proved much harder than I thought. Movie scripts differ from plays in their organic composition; demanding many more subtle nuances from both the characters and the subliminal story lines.

‘Broken Down Palace,’ My book of poetry, finally came out to great response among friends. It was a project six months in the making and I was glad to have it finally done.

My very personal play ‘Frenchy’s Eats’ took a lot longer to finish and is now in the recrafting stage.

My latest play, ‘By the Salton Sea,’ was not accepted by last year’s venue (out of 130 submissions) so I hope to present it to other venues instead.

After months of searching, I was finally able to meet up with a musician who seemed interested in helping me create a sound track of nine songs for my play ‘PTV.’ After our initial meeting, I have high hopes of collaborating with him to craft songs that fit the time, place and mood of my play. If that works out, I have more musicals to score.

Through my old illustrator, I am creating a second book in the Waleed series. This one deals with ‘being afraid’ and facing one’s fears. A friend encouraged me to do an audio version of Waleed, the Skinny Hippo. So, I hope to have audio versions of both books soon.

We’ll be returning to Palm Springs early this fall. Last year’s play ‘Widow’s Waltz’ has been nominated for six different awards by the Desert Theatre League. The awards banquet is October 1^st. It would be a real thrill to see my play win some awards.

After a summer like no other, I hope Sharon and I can get back to our respective passions of writing and art.