"A fitting way to toast a Juliette"

God, I love the Holmes cast. They have this wonderful tendency to go off on long group e-mail chains that meander hilariously from topic to topic. The most recent one was started by our adorable messenger boy/Swiss maid, Juliette, announcing that she got through the English final some of us had been quizzing her for in the green room. This led to all sorts of responses on knowledge and grammar that spanned several languages. Not being fluent enough in anything to contribute well myself, this was the response I devised, which played to my particular strengths:

I've been afraid to toss my hat in too;
I have no words in other tongues like you.
But count my beats and see just what I've got,
As someone who has given English thought.
Perhaps iambs will make, in perfect set,
A fitting way to toast a Juliette.

I'm absurdly pleased with it. Not a bad little bit of verse, eh? Makes that grueling semester of iambic pentameter worth it.

"Your tears serve but to wash my wounds in salt." - Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #9

Last night I found myself inspired and started working on this scene. It would be part of Sundan, where our tragic hero's closest friend Bastian finds out that he's loves their friend Juliana. From Sundan I am going for shame turned into rage at his helplessness to positively deal with his feelings and his situation. With Bastian I'm trying to convey that mixture of pity for the sufferer's plight and profound embarrassment on their behalf that you are seeing something they would rather hide. As a person who is often deeply ashamed to be a victim or to be helpless in dire straits, the situation resonates with me on both sides. Though it could use some polishing, I think I'm on to something, and I believe there is some real poetry among these lines. It needs a clearer lead into the scene, and it needs a firmer ending, but the meat of it is something real.

BASTIAN: Jesus wept, sweet Sundan, can it be so
That you love our fair friend Juliana?

SUNDAN: Speak not of this to me.

BASTIAN: Heaven forfend but I see past your eyes!
O most ill-starred and tragic turn of fate!
O most pitiable of fortune’s dogs!

SUNDAN: Speak not of this! As you love me, speak not!

BASTIAN: Never till this moment had I seen.
How canst thou have hid a thing like this,
A weight and meaning of such vast import,
With scarce a word or nod even to me?
Have I not shed my blood beside you, kept
Your counsel, stood first among your men,
Your dearest friend, and yet you told me not?

SUNDAN: This thing was never meant to leave the dark,
Not before your eyes nor Juliana’s!
When hope is dead before even its birth,
What profits aught for it to come to light?

BASTIAN: How long? How long have you lov’d her, Sundan?

SUNDAN: Ever, always, then and now.
A truth I buried deep for fear that she
Would never look on me as I on her,
Until the day when I resolv’d to speak,
A boy in my command won her away,
And sure I saw what I had ever known.
Wherefore do you groan and grimace so?

BASTIAN: My heart is torn in two for you.

SUNDAN: Your heart must no rival in tenderness,
That I am most wretched of love’s fools,
And yet Bastian bravely suffers so.

BASTIAN: I pray forgive but pity lays me low.

SUNDAN: Villain that you are for that pity,
For naught but its cruel blade may bleed me else,
As torn and bare as this has left me.
You drag my darkest bruises out all whilst
You twist in borrow’d shame for my sad state.
For shame hide thy long and louring face!
Your tears serve but to wash my wounds in salt.
Beset me no more with condoling blows
Lest you draw your keen compassion from its sheath
And with your loving kindness cleave me raw.
To think we make much of love and mercy!
Of mankind’s wonder, gloried gifts of God
To raise us to more than ungentle beasts,
One murders me by inch and ell for years,
The other works but to draw out my pains.
I’ll no more of man’s glories, sir, and pray
God may make me unmoved as a stone
To be no more burn’d with human warmth,
Or else consum’d, to bleed for this no more.

BASTIAN: In justness to your wishes I defer.
I’ll not presume to prick your plight anew.
For all the grieving fullness of my heart,
I can do naught to set things right for you,
And my empty words make you no solace.
Beyond them I have nothing.

SUNDAN: If have you nothing, I’d have that nothing from you,
For nothing can be remedy alone,
In only nothing may my sorrows end.

BASTIAN: You speak as with some evil toy within
You as I could not bear to see you act.
I fear behind those palled eyes does haunt
The glimmer of some desperate thing.

SUNDAN: Fear not but that all desperate things have chas’d
On heels one after other through my mind.
But long time can teach us patience as we
By no means other, hard or well, may learn.
Time I’ve had in plenty in this state,
In no lesser measure than but pain,
And my stern schoolmaster has laid it out
To learn elsewise is where perdition lies.
With soldier’s steadfast pace, I soldier on,
And as in war, in time all turns to scars.

BASTIAN: Thy wounds look fresh to me, old friend,
Fresh as engaged rings on fingers slipp’d.

SUNDAN: New wounds are habit too by now, so just
The same I’ve learned to bear them as they break.
There is no ministering to this hurt,
So well content to do me no more pain.

BASTIAN: Forgive me more most hollow words, but know
Naught would I spare to change this thing for you.
If it within my power lay, the earth
Would shake and groan to see it were not so.

SUNDAN: Then were my Bastian Atlas, with shoulders broad
To move both the earth and a lady’s love.
Leave me, old friend. Spare me the burden of your eyes.

(Exit BASTIAN.)

SUNDAN: It is as if I crumble piece by piece.
Now Bastian has my ancient secret out!
In span of years I ne’er myself betray’d.
It is this gnawing madness breaks me down;
With each day it wears more away my soul.
Sure that Marcus envies no man his joy,
Nor genders no man’s pity. There is no way
That he does not exceed my measure.
Oh, if my old friend could see the whole of it.
No mercy Bastian owes to me besides
Such pity as we show a fallen horse
With leg too shattered again to rise.

Things right now

Just finished my most recent blank verse assignment for school. I kind of hate it, but I think it satisfies the requirements. At this point that's the best I can hope for, while maybe I'll incidentally get better at generating unrhymed iambic pentameter. I do not much think this course study has made me much better a poet than I was before, so honestly I'm feeling like it was kind of a waste.

For my next regular playwrighting assignment I have to write a one-act play, which is supposed to be about an hour long. I have no idea what that will be about. I had a tough enough time figuring out stories to run just ten minutes. But I only have a few weeks to do it in, so I'll better get cracking.

Margaret opens tonight. I've seen the show at rehearsal several times now, but I'm going to try to attend as many performances as I can in order to support them (not to mention enlarge the audience.) There is also a photo call beforehand, which I'm going to try to be present for so I can take pictures of the costumes. I want to have them for my portfolio, and to e-mail to my mother.

I normally would have ballet tonight, but I want to be there for opening night. Also, my Achilles tendon is a little sore, presumably from pliés, and I really don't want to do permanent damage to it. Still, I hate missing class. I enjoy doing it, it's a great workout, and I don't want to fall behind in my learning. My progress has been spotty; some nights I feel like I'm improving and following along fairly well, some night I feel clumsy and weak. My arms are still ugly. I just wish I were better at remembering exactly what the exercises we do in class are so I can more effectively practice on my own between classes.

Today is a sad kind of day.

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #8 - Early Sundan monologue in blank verse

SUNDAN:

I feel today I am a man anew,
Standing here as I’ve never stood before.
I’ve served Lynesse, the dread duchess Ilan,
In martial venture on her honor’s fields,
And in her council chambers lent my voice.
No more sought I than plain becomes a man,
To do my liege the best I had in me,
But for my service she has lov’d me well.
Through blood and labor I’ve so prov’d myself
That she’s pronounced this day to honor me
‘Fore all the court her most true and loyal man.
And in the thoughts of this new man I find
A stranger courage than aught before had grown.
There is a woman, to all senses a lady,
That all men do know as Juliana.
She is without compare, a girl so bright
That I have fell so far in love with her
The earth would tremble at its breadth and break.
For joy I’ve been my lady’s constant friend,
But the deep truth I never dared to tell,
A secret I have closely held through all
Long ages knowing she would not in kind.   
Strange, but I no more can recall the time.
It feels as if there’s never Sundan lived
Who did not Juliana love. My God!
How can men have called me bold when in this
I’ve gone on so long a coward?
I have a soldier’s years, and led brave men
To hazard life and limb in war,
And yet I fear no foe upon the field
As I dread the measure of those matchless eyes.
But with turns the world has chang’d, and so have I;
No more that humble, fearful boy I was,
But commended now, esteemed by men.
As journeys course, and fortunes veer thus far,
I sense this just begins the turns ahead,
That what I’ve been shall be requite in kind.
A clever man must see when chances come
And damned be if I seize not mine now.
Once Lynesse proclaim my worth today I vow
I’ll speak to Juliana of my love.
Though it break and bow me else to try
To stand commended in my angel’s eyes,
And win that angel’s love as dearest prize.

Current work

Been working on my next blank verse assignment for school. For once I got lucky and was actually struck with an idea for something without having to drag some subject up out of nothing, which usually results in a better final product. The trouble is, this is for the professor who has specifically barred me from writing in Shakespearean diction, and the subject matter is very classically theatrical and would be particularly suited to that language style. I wanted to write about a man who has finally resolved on the day he is about to receive a commendation from his liege to at long last tell a woman he's in love with her, only to see her accept a marriage proposal from his lieutenant. He then swears to ruin this man in the eyes of everyone around them such that even his lady will turn away. Then I could write a tale of dramatic scheming and desperation to end in a terrible tragedy, probably where all parties involved end up taking their own lives. Very Shakespearean, no? *sigh* I suppose what I can do is try and write it according to my teacher's specifications, and later adapt it to the language I'd really like for my own purposes. Seems a little bit like a waste of time, at least on the journey to a final product, but I need to write something for this assignment. At the very least it will help me sharpen my blank verse.

I also need to write another new ten-minute play for my next primary assignment. Wonder of wonders, I actually kind of have an idea for that too. There's a really great episode of Frasier, one of my all-time favorite TV shows, that is one of two shot in "real time," as in one long continuous scene in one location rather than a serious of cuts. I find it to be hilariously funny and because of the nature of it always believed it would make a great play. I would really like to write my next ten minute play in the style of this Frasier episode and capture the sort of comedy it utilizes. The only concern I have is that it might be tough to basically not just rip off the episode, to find a way to capture the style while making a distinct piece. Originality can be so tough! Ah, well. I think I'll give it a try, just to see if I can pull it off without making it too similar to its inspiration. Posts, as usual, to follow!

Status update

Finished my first blank verse assignment. Jesus Christ, that was hard. My brain felt like melted Jell-o by the time I was done with it. I can't put off starting on the next verse piece for too long or it will be harder than it has to be, but I definitely needed a mental rest after that.

Now I have started on a ten-minute play for my next regular drama assignment, which as I mentioned involves a PC and an NPC from The Stand. I am quite pleased with it so far; these were always some of my favorite characters in this game, and this is a dramatization of something that actually happened in the backstory of the larp, though I am considering changing the ending so that the scene ends on a more climactic note. I will post it here as I've been posting my other pieces, but it's a bit spoilery if you haven't played the game, so I may post it with the names changed so that people can read it even if they still want to play.

Oz has filled at Bridgewater Larp Day. Still awaiting a number of casting questionnaires, but it looks to be a good cast. I haven't run Oz in over a year now, but because it's relatively small at fifteen players even with five previous runs it didn't completely exhaust the player pool. Looking back over the materials, I am amused with the ways I emulated the novel's sense of slightly disjointed fantasy. I love, in particular, the weird and silly names I picked, like Dapperjohn Greatgourd and Glinda Aralinda. For some strange reason one of the most satisfying things I find about writing is to that when you come up with a name, people who read or perform or play your work will use it. So when people go around in my game calling each other Jubilation and Perpetua and Phineas because I chose those names, it gives me a real warm fuzzy.

Soon I am going to start taking an adult beginner ballet class. It was by blendedchaitea*'s suggestion, and I'm really excited. That's something I've always kind of wanted to do but never really had time for it, but now seems like the right time to work it in. I want to get more into dancing, as well as have an exercise habit I actually enjoy. And it will be fun to go to it with Rachel.

Also trying to get some household stuff accomplished. Yesterday I got a box with plastic dividers in it to hold all my various sewing odds and ends. So I organized my work table and got everything put away. Then I promptly messed up the space all over again working on some projects. It's funny how often I mess up my room because I'm busy doing something, then spend a day cleaning it up so I have space to start another project that messes everything up again.

Finally, yesterday my iPhone battery broke. It will work as long as it's plugged in, but it won't hold charge anymore. I'm going to have to go to the Apple Store today to get them to take a look at it. My mom mentioned my brother had sort of a similar problem with his, and when he took it in they just gave him a brand new replacement phone. His is newer than mine, though, I think, so mine may not be under warranty anymore. And I know we're getting to the point where we're all eligible for upgrades. So I'm not sure what the most efficient response to this is. God knows I rely on that damn thing for just about everything.

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #4 - Palamon mocking Zephyrus in blank verse

This is the first part of what I submitted for my blank verse assignment, in which my beloved Palamon critiques his actor brother Zephyrus's acting arms. I'm not a hundred percent pleased with it, as the language is not perfect. I had to make a lot of concession in word choice to fit the meter, and in word choice and structure because I've been warned to not use "archaic" diction. :-P Not sure this is how I want characters in this universe, specifically the one in which To Think of Nothing takes place, to talk. Not sure Palamon sounds enough like Palamon. But for an early attempt at writing in this form, I think I managed relatively smooth lines of poetry. Judge for yourself how well I did.

(ZEPHYRUS stands center, delivering the end of a monologue.)

ZEPHYRUS: “…I cannot be content with that! To live and know that for the woman I love I have never dared to try? Must we not be willing to suffer all hurts for those we love? For her I would suffer this hurt. I fear to speak may break me, but this is a greater thing than fear, more right than any rightness I have known. Her goodness has so long stayed with me, held close to my heart, that I feel that I am stronger for having carried her. So that I could not only love her, but I could beg her to love me.”

(Once finished, he pauses in stillness a moment, then drops character.)

ZEPHYRUS: My brother is a critic. They say he’s one of the best in the whole world of theater. The problem is, whenever I perform, I can’t help but imagine him criticizing me.

(Lights up on PALAMON, sitting off to the side slumped in a chair, watching him. ZEPHYRUS looks to him for a response.)

ZEPHYRUS: Well, Palamon? What do you think?

PALAMON: Do you realize whenever you emote
You raise your arms in the same forceful way?
I swear the stage beneath your feet is just
Your beacon cue to make those very arms.

ZEPHYRUS: What are you talking about?

(PALAMON stands and exaggeratedly imitates the shape of ZEPHYRUS’s arms.)

PALAMON: Look here and see yourself at work. With these,
I feared you meant to come and tackle me.
You act a man less than a charging bear.

ZEPHYRUS: I do not do that all the time!

PALAMON: Oh, no, it’s nothing that Zephyrus does;
All men he plays just seem to show the quirk.
I think your arms would state for all the world,
“Look here! I, Zephyrus, am acting now!”
But I suppose you’ve never noticed that.

ZEPHYRUS: Why do you think that?

PALAMON: Because you cannot seem to stop yourself.
Enough you make your bear-arms by mistake;
Far worse to wreck them on us with intent.

ZEPHYRUS: Do you have to make such fun of me?

PALAMON: How else am I to get it through your head?
It’s not as if you are inclined to hear.
You hate to hear an outside word except
For total admiration of your work.

ZEPHYRUS: Of course it’s impossible to be less cruel when you critique.

PALAMON: Oh, yes, I am indeed so cruel to you,
To dare suggest you’re not the perfect mask.
I don’t know why you’d think to come to me.
You don’t care at all to improve your art.

ZEPHYRUS: That is not true! How dare you?

PALAMON: Does this truth wound you deeply as the last?
Indeed you don’t much care to hone your craft,
Or else you mend, not hide, the ways you lack.
You take the boards to strut and crow your way
To the attention of sweet simple souls
Too facile to form opinions strong.
So what is it that makes you think of me?
You’re not adored enough by all your fans?
You need such cloying nonsense from me too?
I’d no idea I owed my brother lies.
Should I then lie to you? Speak you
Things that I do not believe at all,
Only to spare from pricks your wounded pride?
I will not cosset your vanity too,
And compromise the true worth of my praise.
My word carries some weight, my brother dear,
And I have reputation to uphold.
I have no mercy when it comes to this.

ZEPHYRUS: Is that really what you think of me? It’s not your mercy but your justice I want. My God, brother, sometimes I think the bad is all you’ll say.

PALAMON: By God, brother, sometimes it’s all I see.

(Exit PALAMON.)

Let's write more stuff for Palamon

So last night I did some serious work on my blank verse writing assignment. I don't know how good it is, but it's something, it's an honest effort with some substance to it. But I kind of like the topic at least, because I am writing about the conflict between Palamon, the fan favorite character from To Think of Nothing, and the younger brother of his who craves his approval.

There is a quick mention of a person in To Think of Nothing named Zephyrus as someone who attended an earlier show written by Cassander. Zephyrus is, in fact, Palamon's younger brother, who, to create contrast with his sibling, I decided is an actor who wants and never feels he gets the approval of the renowned theater critic he's related to. With that in mind, stuck for something to write about, I decided to write about the brothers working their crafts against one another.

I love the character of Palamon, It's weird to say about your own character, who hopefully ends up as whatever you designed him to be, but I find him so fun and charming and funny with an honesty that cuts through the bullshit to the bone, and I love it. This is shaped not only by my own intentions but by the fabulous performance of morethings5*. Nobody could have played him more perfectly than Kindness, whose rendition made the character loveable, amusing, and yet still with that sharp incisiveness that gives him weight in addition to his comedy.

There you have it, the only one with the guts to sit in Cassander's chair. I just want to write reams and reams about him, so I've been craving a chance to use him in something again. And I'm amused by the fact that I'm writing him to speak in blank verse. I will post the results when I'm finished, which knowing me will likely not be before Friday, the last possible day I have to work on it.

I also need to get started on my regular playwrighting assignment. I was struck today with the notion to use two characters from The Stand, of all places. A PC and an NPC, the one who kind of captured my imagination and made me think there could be all kind of cool stories written about him. I can't work on that until I finish the stuff with the more pressing deadline, but that could be interesting to work on as well. Heh, though I think it would be spoilery for those who have not played the game.

Assignments loom...

Well, this weekend was not as productive as I intended it to be. Entirely too much of it was spent in the Depression Pit, with the rest of the time not being quite as productive as I hoped it would be. But I did get some of my list checked off. I bought a can of white paint to touch up the white trim in my bedroom, though I haven't started painting yet. I bought a new iron, which works great and I think will improve the quality of the seams I sew. I got a nice new blue-and-white striped shower curtain to replace the hideous plastic fish-print one we had in the upstairs bathroom. The shower has a sharp downward slant due to the ceiling shape on one side of it, so I have decided to cut the curtain to fit the space and sew new openings for the hooks. It will be a good chance to teach myself to make buttonholes, as that's basically the sort of openings the curtain originally came with. I haven't quite cracked how to use my machine's automatic buttonhole attachment to make attractive-looking results, but I've been working on it (unfortunately late into a sleepless last night, and the machine was apparently so loud that I must apologize because it woke up blendedchaitea*. So sorry, dear, won't happen again!) and I think I'm starting to get it right. Didn't get my kitchen knives sharpened, though, which has been on my list for a long time now. And I didn't get near as much homework done as I should have.

I kind of worked myself into a corner because I decided to not think about my poetry assignment packet until I was done with my playwrighting one, which was due a while earlier. Problem is, I didn't even really look at the poetry assignment until that point, and the due dates were closer together than I realized. So the necessary books for it were ordered later than they should have been and I have to go into crunch mode again. I am quite nervous about this one; on top of having to mark out scansion on a piece of text from the readings, something I have never been good at despite all my experience performing iambic pentameter, I also have to write eight pages of a "play-poetry" in verse. Gah. I'm terrified it's all going to come out all wrong and the professor's going to be like, "Do you know what iambic pentameter is at all?" And of course there's my classic problem of never knowing what to write about when I don't already have an idea going in.

On one final school-related note, I got back my adviser's feedback on my first packet submission. Mostly positive, I am relieved to say, though I made some really stupid errors that I am embarrassed and kicking myself over. And I totally misunderstood the "writing subtext" assignment, for which I generated this scene. I blame using that damn Hemingway piece, "Hills Like White Elephants," as my model. Because the characters in that do actually talk about their problem at least a little even though they never actually say what that problem is, I guess I thought my piece would fit the terms if my character just never flat-out defined their issue either. But that's not subtext, dumbass, which was the whole point of the assignment. She actually liked the piece in a vacuum, and complimented my ability to write dialogue-- a bit of a surprise, as I never felt my "regular" dialogue was ever all that natural-sounding --but asked me to redo the assignment. I am irritated with myself, but I feel like redoing it is justified. The moral of the story is never try to do anything that Hemingway does, because it's just going to be wrong. :-P

First grad school assignment finished

I turned in my first packet of assignments for grad school last night. I am pretty relieved, as I had a tough time buckling down to do it even though I had plenty of time. I think it's because it's been so long since I had to do academic work; I guess I'm lucky I went back to school after only two years, or else it might have been even harder. But I'm okay with the quality of the work I generated. The creative writing itself was tough because of how hard it always is for me when I start a project because I have to rather than because I've been inspired. So the stuff I made was a lot more forced and a lot less satisfactory to me than it might have been had I gone in with an idea. Still, I guess anything that gets out on the page is better than nothing. Yesterday was good for me because Tegan came over to hang out for the day, and she worked on a project while I did my homework. Her company was lovely, it was nice to catch up with her as I haven't seen her in a while, as having her there working on something with me helped me get into a productive mindset.

I'd love to be able to chill out about school for a while, but I really should get right to work on my work for my independent study in blank verse. The first deadline for that is the 20th, so I probably should have started on it already. I guess I was just having such a difficulty focusing on the stuff with the earlier due date I didn't think I could afford to work on additional stuff at the same time. A wee bit nervous about that because of how I'll need to work on learning to identify meter and stresses in poetry; I have for some reason I can't fathom had a hard time with that in the past, so I'm afraid I will make mistakes that won't be acceptable at a graduate level. We'll see, I need to get over my trepidation and just dig into whatever the assignment is; I haven't look at it in a month and I can't remember. And then not long after that I'll have to hand in the second primary assignment packet. That one will have to include the first draft of a ten minute play. I guess I'd better start brainstorming what the hell that's going to be about, as at the moment I can't think of anything that would sustain even something of that length.

For somebody who thinks of herself as a writer, I often have an incredibly hard time writing.

Studying iambic pentameter

I realize I forgot to mention this, and I wanted to make a point of doing so because I'm kind of pleased and proud of it. So my grad school program basically requires three classes a semester-- the class where you write stuff, the class where you write papers analyze stuff other people wrote, and a third, mostly independent class of your choice that is somehow interdiciplinary. So you know I want to make my focus the writing of plays after the Shakespearean style. After all the time I've spent studying how they work through classes and through their performance and production, I feel like I am mostly ready to make an educated attempt at this challenge. Th one crucial element I don't know if I have a strong enough grasp upon to proceed is the nature of that particular kind of poetry. Poetry has always been my weakest writing skill, and I've only studied it minimally. So I came up with th idea that my indepedent study could be into blank verse iambic pentameter, to support the final project I would be generating. My advisor loved the idea and matched me up with a teacher who only takes on one student a year. I am very pleased with the idea, as it will all tie together and make my final work better. I hope it's as helpful as I think it will be.

"What a thing that I have seen tonight!"

I know the rhyme scheme's all over the place, I'll have to fix that. But here's the first draft-- Justinian has just met Theodora for the first time, and now is musing, awed, over the experienced.


JUSTINIAN

What a thing that I have seen tonight!

Full of fire is my mind,

That hours on has my body gone,

Yet kept captive all my thoughts behind.

This maid— what maid? What's this I feel,

Of eyes that flash, and wits as sharp as legion steel?

To look, to speak, to spend a moment there,

Her spirit, keen as winter, laid me bare.

Is this Justinian? Is he yet his own

To find his cunning so ensnared?

Can dissembling actress hide a witch

And boldly to bewitch a prince she dared?

Nay. I, Justin still; my wits, a whole; myself, yet mine.

It is some wonder of her hath caught mine eyne.

The heathen Turks that tremble at the Emperor’s name

Equal not her tongue, a sword that pierces claim,

And where others led like asses, she holds no fear of me,

An unbound mare, who shakes her mane defiantly.

I will go back to where that lightning struck,

And if I am rent again, it is a blessed luck,

For many’s the miracle that is once, and away,

But few so rare I may see every day.