Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #16: The Tailor of Riddling Way, Episode 3: What She Started

So off and on I've been working on back-engineering the script for the Tailor audio drama from the first draft of the Tailor screenplay I wrote for last semester. I think I have finished at least a first draft of the third installment, which I'm calling What She Started. Every installment has been a little bit shorter than the previous one, which I'm a bit concerned about, but maybe it doesn't really matter as long as the break points make sense. There will probably be one more episode after this to conclude the story.

If you read the screenplay, it's very similar but visual things are translated more into dialogue here. Instead of the viewer simply seeing a dusty bookshelf of classical texts in one corner of the bedroom, Tom comments on it here. I confess I am a little dissastisfied that I haven't managed to fix certain things about the story that my teacher pointed out. Like, for example, he thinks I should have Officer Crier appear again before the very end, so this episode would be the one for it. But I still haven't figured out how to make him come back. So this script will likely need editing from the version below. If anyone has any suggestions, please let me know. This is something I will definitely need for the second draft of the screenplay, and I think it would improve the audio drama as well.

THE TAILOR OF RIDDLING WAY
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
Episode 3:
What She Started
~~~

SCENE 3.1

SETTING: Loring’s End

CONSTANCE: Are you quite finished yet?

TOM: Just about, ma’am. I just want to be sure I have your measurements precisely.

CONSTANCE: Any color but yellow. It battles with my complexion.

TOM: Yes, I have that down.

CONSTANCE: Or blue, I will not have blue. And I can’t abide blackwork, it’s very provincial.

TOM: Not to worry, ma’am.

ALICE: Mr. Barrows knows all this, Auntie. He’s going to make lovely dresses for us, don’t you worry.

CONSTANCE: I should hope so. He is being paid well enough for it.

(Exit CONSTANCE.)

ALICE: Sorry about that, Tom. Aunt Constance can be very… particular, when she cares to be.

TOM: Oh, not at all. That’s little enough, believe me. Nothing at all compared to exactly recreating a twenty-year-old ball gown from a newspaper picture.

ALICE: I can’t imagine why Emma was so particular about it.

TOM: It had to be exact, she was very clear about that. But the picture was all she had to give me.

(Pause.)

TOM: Alice? Is there something wrong?

ALICE: Then… why did she ask you to come here?

TOM: I… told her I didn’t think I had enough to go on. That was when she asked me to come, she said she had something that might… help?

ALICE: What might help?

TOM: She never said.

ALICE: What if… she had something else to show you?

TOM: Like what?

ALICE: Tom… what if it was the original dress?

TOM: Do you think she still had it?

ALICE: I don’t know… but I think we can find out.

SCENE 3.2

SETTING: Loring’s End master bedroom

TOM: Alice, why are we here? We shouldn’t be doing this.

ALICE: There’s nowhere else to look. I’ve been in the attic and the basement and I’ve never seen it there. If that dress is still in this house, it’s got to be in here.

TOM: If your aunt and uncle catch us poking around in their bedroom—

ALICE: Then we’ll have to be quick.

(The door creaks open.)

ALICE: As long as we don’t touch Aunt Constance’s medicines, she’ll never know we were here.

TOM: Who reads Latin? And Greek?

ALICE: I’m sorry?

TOM: All those books on the shelf… whose are they?

ALICE: I don’t know.

TOM: They’re all dusty. Looks like no one’s touched them in years.

ALICE: Tom! This way!

TOM: What is it?

ALICE: In the closet. I saw something in here once… a curtain in the back. I didn’t think much of it then, but now…

(The curtain is pulled aside. ALICE draws in a breath.)

ALICE: Ohhhhhh! Tom... that’s it. That’s the dress. It’s beautiful. It’s...

TOM: No.

ALICE: Tom? What is it?

TOM: It’s wrong.

ALICE: What’s wrong?

TOM: The gown. It’s… made all wrong.

ALICE: What do you mean?

TOM: Look at it! Look at the pulls in the weave!

ALICE: It’s seen some rough handling, Tom, Bethany was murdered in it.

TOM: You don’t understand. It’s not draped properly. My mother was an artist, she never would have handed off something so flawed.

ALICE: I’m sure she never—

TOM: Alice, look at this!

ALICE: Tom, be careful with that!

TOM: Satin should flow like water, but this hangs so heavy it left pulls in that perfect Chinese weave.

ALICE: If my aunt sees—

TOM: And look at the bulk in the seams! My mother’s seams were crisp, not thick like these! Feel that!

(There is a papery crackling sound as Tom compresses the seams with his fingers.)

ALICE: What is that?

TOM: I don’t… where’s my pocket knife?

ALICE: What are you doing? If my aunt sees this—

(There is a slicing sound as the knife slides through the fabric.)

ALICE: Tom! You’re destroying it! Stop!

TOM: Alice… look…

ALICE: How could you do that—?

TOM: Look!

ALICE: Is that… paper?

TOM: It’s… lots of papers. Sewn up inside here.

(The papers crinkle as they pull them out and unfold them.)

ALICE: They’re documents! “…this agreement does hereby affirm that Loring Incorporated Textiles shall provide material supplies in the amount of twenty thousand bolts of uniform-rated twill to the… Gesellschaft Donner… until such time as the martial requirements are fulfilled.” There’s more written here, but I think it’s in German.

TOM: German? Uniform-rated twill… does it have a date on it?

ALICE: It was signed on May 14th, 1915… by Herr Freidrich Donner and Mr. Reginald Loring. A deal with a German, in 1915… selling them cloth…

TOM: He was outfitting the army.

ALICE: No. No. My father was a soldier, he died fighting the Germans.

TOM: He was a collaborator.

ALICE: This what he was doing! This is what Emma found, what my father hated him for!

TOM: Stay calm, Alice.

ALICE: Remember what Father said in his letter— Bethany was being married off to secure his devil’s bargain! This was the bargain, and Grandfather was selling Bethany to that devil!

TOM: Alice, please—

ALICE: He made everyone think he was such a pillar of the town, a patriot and a— a decent man!

TOM: Keep your voice down!

ALICE: This is treason! He was a traitor! And here’s the proof, hidden in Bethany’s dress! Why? Why is it here?

TOM: I don’t know. But… Emma must have.

(Flashback effect.)

SCENE 3.3

SETTING: Loring’s End, 1917

BETHANY: Hello. Are you the seamstress?

ABIGAIL: I am. My name is Abigail Barrows. I hope you’ll find my work to your liking.

EMMA: Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Barrows. I trust you’ve been told Bethany here is soon to have her coming out ball?

ABIGAIL: Yes, indeed.

EMMA: She’ll be needing something special to wear. Something suitable for the event.

ABIGAIL: I very much understand. Something to make her seem more a woman than a girl.

EMMA: Exactly, thank you, madam.

ABIGAIL: I’ll just take your measurements, then, miss. Lift your arms, please.

BETHANY: Oh. Like this?

ABIGAIL: Thank you. I know just the thing. A straight skirt to lengthen the leg, a close-fitting bodice to flatter a delicate figure. The material will come dear, though, with the rationing…

EMMA: Not to worry. We have secured it already. Please, have a look at this bolt.

BETHANY: Do you think you can use it?

ABIGAIL: Oh, my! I haven’t seen so much fine silk since before the war!

BETHANY: Most decent people haven’t.

ABIGAIL: However did you get it?

EMMA: Our family deals in textiles of all varieties. Such are our spoils.

ABIGAIL: You have lovely taste. It will suit you well, Miss Bethany. I would suggest beading it in dark blue and ivory, to best set off the color. Beadwork is my specialty, you see.

BETHANY: That does sounds beautiful.

ABIGAIL: I’m very glad you think so. I will make sketches of the design for you and send them over. Did you want to talk about your wedding gown in this visit as well?

BETHANY: My what?

EMMA: I beg your pardon, Mrs. Barrows?

ABIGAIL: I’m sorry, it was something Mr. Loring said…

EMMA: What did our father say, Mrs. Barrows?

ABIGAIL: He said he wanted to engage me for more than just the ball gown. He wanted me to make Miss Bethany’s wedding dress as well.

BETHANY: Why would he tell you that? Emma, why would I need a wedding dress?

ABIGAIL: Perhaps I misunderstood…?

EMMA: No, I don’t think you did. Bethany, dear, I believe Father’s plans for you have become entirely clear.

BETHANY: Oh… oh, no. It’s that man, isn’t it? That man with the accent… Father is going to make me… oh, no.

EMMA: Heaven help us.

ABIGAIL: Did I speak out of turn?

BETHANY: (Breaks down sobbing.)

ABIGAIL: Oh, my… miss, whatever is the matter?

BETHANY: So it is true! He is selling me like a sheep.

ABIGAIL: Oh, miss, I… I don’t know what to—

BETHANY: Emma, what am I going to do?

EMMA: Our brother warned me of this, but—

BETHANY: Rowan knew? Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?

EMMA: Please, Bethany, it doesn’t matter now.

BETHANY: How could you keep this from me?

EMMA: I was waiting until the time was right! I was going to help you!

BETHANY: How?

EMMA: I— I don’t know yet. But not now, Bethany, this is a family matter.

BETHANY: Bother family matters, Emma! You all say family matters when you mean lies and secrets! I won’t have any more of it! I… I’m sorry, Mrs. Barrows. But I don’t know what to do.

ABIGAIL: Not at all, child. If you’d like, you can tell me your troubles. There may be something I can do.

EMMA: Mrs. Barrows…

BETHANY: We must have help from somewhere, Emma.

EMMA: (Sighing) Yes. Yes, we must.

ABIGAIL: Please, tell me. Perhaps… perhaps I can help.

(End flashback.)

SCENE 3.4

SETTING: Loring’s End, 1934

TOM: They put these here to steal away the evidence against Reginald. Emma… and my mother. She sewed them in here to help Bethany.

ALICE: Did Emma know this was still here?

TOM: She must have.

ALICE: But she wanted you to make her another one!

TOM: Yes, a perfect copy— not something close, but a perfect copy! Because only a perfect copy could replace the original.

ALICE: She was going to swap them? So she could get the documents without anyone knowing they were gone. My God. It was Grandfather, wasn’t it!? He must have found them out and tried to stop her! The monster killed Bethany to keep his secret! His own daughter!

TOM: Alice, please—!

(Footsteps as CONSTANCE approaches.)

CONSTANCE: Alice? Is that you?

ALICE: Oh, no. Aunt Constance! She’s coming in! Tom, you have to hide, she can’t see you in here! Quick— into the clothes! We have to—

CONSTANCE: Alice?

ALICE: Auntie!

CONSTANCE: What are you doing in my wardrobe?

ALICE: I— I was looking for you, Aunt. I wanted to ask you— about my dress. For the coming out ball.

(Pause.)

ALICE: Then I… I found this.

CONSTANCE: Bethany’s dress. I see.

ALICE: It’s beautiful.

CONSTANCE: As beautiful as she was. That clipping didn’t do her justice. I thought they would bury her in it, but Father saved it.

ALICE: He did?

(Pause.)

ALICE: Aunt Constance, I want to ask you something.

CONSTANCE: She would have only ruined it if she’d gone out into the garden.

ALICE: Aunt Constance. Do you know… anything about what Grandfather was doing?

CONSTANCE: Of course, dear.

ALICE: You… you did?

CONSTANCE: He arranged marriages for all of us. For Bethany… then for me… you mustn’t think we were all to end up like Emma… But you must forgive me, Alice. We are a little behind schedule, I suppose.

ALICE: Behind schedule? For what?

CONSTANCE: You didn’t think I’d let you become an old maid too, did you? Whatever would people say?

ALICE: Aunt Constance, what are you talking about?

CONSTANCE: Bethany had already been taken care of by the time of her coming out, but no matter, there will be plenty of fine young men to meet at yours. We’ll find someone for you, don’t you worry.

ALICE: You’re going to arrange a marriage for me?

CONSTANCE: Of course your uncle and I want to see to your future.

ALICE: But why!?

CONSTANCE: Because that’s how things are done.

ALICE: But… but I don’t want to get married!

CONSTANCE: You don’t? My poor dear. I fear that in this life we seldom find things go the way we want.

SCENE 3.5

TOM: What are we going to do?

ALICE: What do you mean?

TOM: How are we going to stop this?

ALICE: I don’t know if we can!

TOM: So you’re just going to go along with it?

ALICE: Tom!

TOM: Hasn’t your family done enough damage that way?

ALICE: I can’t just tell them no!

TOM: We have to! Or else you’ll be married off! Or else we can’t—!

(Pause.)

ALICE: Or else we can’t what?

(Pause.)

ALICE: What, Tom!?

TOM: Because I— care about you, Alice! I feel… quite strongly for you.

ALICE: Oh, Tom.

TOM: Yes, Alice! Is that so wrong?

ALICE: Oh, my God.

TOM: I thought… I thought you might too. For me.

ALICE: Don’t say it, Tom!

TOM: Alice!

ALICE: I can’t. I— I can’t. I’ve never—

TOM: Jesus Christ.

ALICE: Tom, I’m a Loring! I can’t just… be with anybody!

TOM: Anybody? Or a tradesman like me.

ALICE: Tom!

TOM: I’m sorry to have presumed on you.

ALICE: I can’t talk about this!

TOM: You don’t have to.

(He turns to leave.)

ALICE: Tom, wait! I need you.

TOM: Don’t worry. I’m still going to help you. And I haven’t asked you for anything.

(He exits. ALICE begins to cry.)

SCENE 3.6

Setting: Della’s pub

DELLA: Tom! Evening there, dear. Were you up with Miss Loring again? How are things there?

(Pause.)

DELLA: What’s happened?

TOM: You were right, Del. About Alice.

DELLA: Aw, Tom. I’m real sorry. Really I am.

TOM: Thanks.

DELLA: At least now you can get back to your own life. You’ve sure got enough on your plate already.

TOM: Can’t do that, Del.

DELLA: Honey! Why would you put yourself through that?

TOM: I made her a promise. I mean to keep it, whatever else.

DELLA: I’ll bring you a little something. It’ll make you feel better.

(DELLA moves off. TOM sighs. He is jostled by KENNETH as he tries to walk by.)

KENNETH: ‘Scuse me.

TOM: Kenneth?

KENNETH: God damn it. You.

TOM: What’s wrong?

KENNETH: Nothing. Just on my way out.

TOM: Hey, wait a minute.

KENNETH: Leave me alone, kid!

TOM: I said wait!

DELLA: Tom! What’s got into you?

TOM: I have to run, Del.

DELLA: Tom!

TOM: It’s something I have to do.

SCENE 3.7

(KENNETH breathes heavily as his steps crunch over gravel. Suddenly he grunts and stumbles, thumping against the alley wall.)

KENNETH: Jesus Christ! You!

TOM: What were you doing out that other night?

KENNETH: What? Let me go!

TOM: Not until you talk to me! When I ran into you on the road, what were you doing?

KENNETH: None of your business!

TOM: I was up at the Lorings’ place, just like you said. And I think you were too.

KENNETH: What are you talking about?

TOM: You were the one who broke in, weren’t you?

KENNETH: Screw off!

TOM: You had your arm hurt just like the burglar. You were hanging around just outside the grounds. And you’re too hot after anything to do with that family.

KENNETH: Oh, you got no idea!

TOM: What do you have against the Lorings?

KENNETH: Plenty, boy!

TOM: Do you want something from them? Money? What did they ever do to you?

KENNETH: More than you’ll ever know! So leave me to my own business!

TOM: Tell me what you’re up to.

KENNETH: No!

TOM: I could have the police after you in a minute! You were real sore against Miss Emma, weren’t you?

KENNETH: So what if I was?

TOM: Because she’s dead, that’s what! Because somebody killed her, and I think it was you!

KENNETH: Me? I didn’t do anything to her!

TOM: You broke into your house and went digging through her things. We know what you were after, Kenneth. We found Emma’s papers. She was looking into the death of Bethany Loring.

KENNETH: I know that!

TOM: What did you want with those papers? Did you have something to do with that too?

KENNETH: You don’t know what you’re on about!

TOM: Did you want to hurt that girl too?

KENNETH: (yelling over TOM) I never! I wanted to marry her!

TOM: What?

KENNETH: You think you know everything just because that ;ittle niece let you in? Think you’re so damn clever? You don’t know a bit of what went on in that house! I never would have hurt that girl in a thousand years! Bethany and me… we were… we loved each other.

TOM: How did you know her?

KENNETH: Why the hell should I tell you?

TOM: So I understand! So I believe you when you say you didn’t hurt anyone!

KENNETH: Augh!

TOM: Because I’m not going to let you alone until you do!

(KENNETH sighs.)

KENNETH: We worked there. At the Lorings’. My old man was Loring’s valet. I was a stable boy.

TOM: Yeah?

KENNETH: Her father had me give Bethany her riding lessons, and we got to talking. She was about my age, and such a nice girl… we fell in love.

TOM: Nobody ever told me about Bethany having a sweetheart.

KENNETH: We kept it secret! We had to! Her father never would have stood for it. He had bigger plans for his baby girl than some ruffian minding horses. We didn’t know how we were going to be together, but…

TOM: Did something change?

KENNETH: Emma found us out.

(Flashback effect.)

SCENE 3.8

SETTING: Loring’s End, 1917

EMMA: Bethany? Mrs. Warren told me you’d gone out to the stables. Bethany?

(Sound of footsteps. Pause.)

BETHANY: Emma!

EMMA: Oh, Bethany…

BETHANY: What are you doing here?

EMMA: Looking for you. I wondered why you were suddenly so devoted to your riding lessons.

KENNETH: Oh, please, miss…

BETHANY: Emma, you can’t tell anyone.

EMMA: Bethany, what are you doing?

KENNETH: Miss, you don’t understand.

BETHANY: I love him, and he loves me.

EMMA: I see. How long has this been going on?

KENNETH: Since last spring, miss.

EMMA: Oh, good heavens. I see we’re all such practiced secret keepers.

BETHANY: Father would never understand. He’d just try to keep us apart!

KENNETH: I swear, miss, I only mean to be good to your sister. I’d never bring her to any harm. I love her, miss.

BETHANY: Please, Emma.

EMMA: (Sighing.) Very well, dear.

(Flashback effect.)

SCENE 3.9

SETTING: Alley outside Della’s Pub, 1934

KENNETH: I kept waiting for her old man or her big brother to come down on us, but they never did, so I suppose she kept her promise. She never spoke to us about it again until we found out about what Mr. Loring was planning.

TOM: The arranged marriage.

KENNETH: Yes. How do you know that?

TOM: It was in Emma’s papers.

KENNETH: She said she was going to help us. She hatched the plan, it was her idea!

TOM: What plan?

KENNETH: To get away! For me to whisk Bethany away from her coming out ball and slip off into the night. She said she had something.

TOM: Had something?

KENNETH: Something that if Loring ever came after us, we could make sure he’d stay away. I don’t know what, she never told me. But I trusted her, that cold bitch, for all the good it did.

TOM: The papers. The papers my mother sewed into the dress. They could have exposed him as a collaborator with the Germans.

KENNETH: The old man was collaborating? Oh, that self-righteous old bastard! Damn shame he never got what he deserved.

TOM: So what happened?

KENNETH: I did what she said. I waited for Bethany just outside the party. I waited for hours, it felt like .All night. Then I heard how they found her, all broken like that… I never got to see her again.

TOM: What went wrong?

KENNETH: That’s the devil of it! I don’t know! I was there are the garden gate just like we planned, but she never came to meet me.

TOM: And Emma blamed you.

KENNETH: For letting it happen. Afterward she chased me off. Dismissed me from my job and told me never to show my face at Loring’s End again. The hag wanted someone to blame, so she settled on me.

TOM: And you swear you didn’t have anything to do with it?

KENNETH: I was a stupid boy, Tom! Just like you are. But I loved her, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t have done to keep her safe.

TOM: And not Miss Emma either?

KENNETH: I didn’t kill her. More like she killed me. Swear on poor Bethany’s grave.

TOM: Then… help me.

KENNETH: Help you?

TOM: Yes. Help me figure out what’s going on herer. It may be the only way to ever know what really happned to Bethany.

KENNETH: And… you won’t turn me in to the cops?

TOM: If what you say is true, no, I won’t. Just work with me.

(Pause.)

TOM: We’ve got almost twenty years of secrets to dig through here. I need all the help I can get.

(Pause.)

TOM: And then there’s Miss Alice. She’s… she’s a real nice girl, Kenneth. She needs all the help she can get too.

KENNETH: For all the good a drunk like me can do you… I’ll help you how I can.

TOM: Thank you. Listen, I’m sorry about how Miss Emma treated you. But I think she hurt just like you do. Whatever she was doing, I think she just wanted to know what happened too.

KENNETH: Might be.

TOM: She must have thought about her a lot. When she came to me, she wanted me to make a copy of Bethany’s gown. She gave me this picture of her.

KENNETH: Picture? Could I… could I see it?

(Crinkling as TOM produces the clipping and hands it to KENNETH.)

KENNETH: Haven’t seen her in years. Didn’t have no pictures of her. Afraid I was going to forget what she looked like. (Pause.) My God, she was beautiful.

TOM: I’m sorry.

KENNETH: Not as sorry as I am. Go on now, Tom. I’ll be seeing you around. Let’s make it in the daylight next time, with no more shoving.

SCENE 3.10

Setting: Della’s pub

ALICE: Excuse me. Are you Miss Carruthers?

DELLA: Call me Della.

ALICE: My name is Alice Loring.

DELLA: Oh. So you’re Miss Alice.

ALICE: Yes. It’s nice to meet you. Tom Barrows has told me a lot about you.

DELLA: Likewise. What brings you down here, miss?

ALICE: I— I, um, was hoping to talk to Tom. He’s not at his shop, so I thought I might find him here.

DELLA: Afraid he just left, miss. Couldn’t tell you where he went.

ALICE: Oh. Well, I said some awful things to him that I never should have said. So if you see him, could you tell him how sorry I am? And that… I didn’t mean it? Would you tell him that for me?

DELLA: Sure I will, miss.

ALICE: Thank you. I suppose I’ll be on my way.

DELLA: All right, then. Stay safe now.

(ALICE turns to go.)

DELLA: Miss, wait. If you wait a moment, I think he might be back soon.

ALICE: Oh. All right. I… I think I will.

(Pause. TOM comes up behind them.)

TOM: Alice? What are you doing here?

ALICE: I’m sorry, Tom. And I want to try.

SCENE 3.11

SETTING: Della’s pub

DELLA: Sure it’s all right that you’re out this late on your own, miss?

ALICE: I sneaked out. They don’t know I’m gone. I couldn’t stand to stay in that house anymore. Not knowing what grandfather did.

TOM: Maybe so, Alice, but he died before any of this happened to Emma. He couldn’t have done that.

DELLA: And now you’re sure old Kenneth isn’t responsible.

TOM: He seemed genuine to me. Like a poor old guy with a lost love.

DELLA: Never knew that about him. Poor old guy.

TOM: And whoever did kill Emma didn’t want her to dig up the secrets she was after. Kenneth would hardly want to protect Reginald Loring from anything.

ALICE: So what’s to be done? It’s as if we’ve learned everything except who did it.

TOM: I think we should keep on with Emma’s plan.

ALICE: What?

TOM: Emma was on the trail of what really happened. She must have found what she was looking for.

DELLA: And look what happened! Seems you’re like as not to bring a killer down on your heads just like Miss Loring did.

TOM: Maybe so. But I can’t think of any other way to find this out.

ALICE: What was Emma going to do now?

TOM: Well, the last thing she did was come to me. I’m going to do her commission.

ALICE: Bethany’s dress?

DELLA: Tom! You’ve hardly had the time as it is!

TOM: You could help me! Both of you!

ALICE: Could we?

DELLA: Tom, you know I’d do anything for you, but I’m no good with a needle.

TOM: Might be, but you’ve got two hands, you can help with other things.

DELLA: And what’s going to happen when it’s made?

ALICE: We could switch it out, like she planned. And bring the documents to light, like she was going to.

TOM: If that doesn’t draw them out, nothing will.

DELLA: So you’re set on doing this, Tom?

TOM: I am.

DELLA: Well, then, you’re going to need help getting through it. I’m in.

TOM: Thank you, Del.

ALICE: Yes, thank you.

DELLA: No trouble for this one, dear. You won’t meet a better man than this one. Well, it’s getting late. I should be getting home to my husband. I’ll be seeing the two of you soon.

TOM: Goodnight, Della.

(DELLA walks off. TOM and ALICE start off as well.)

ALICE: So Bethany loved this stable boy.

TOM: Yeah. And look how well that turned out.

ALICE: She must have seen something in him to make it worth it. Like… if he were the best man she knew.

TOM: Emma trusted my mother to help her save Bethany.

ALICE: It was brave of her.

TOM: I can’t do any less.

(TOM kisses ALICE’s hand.)

ALICE: Tom…

TOM: We have to finish what Emma started. We have to make that dress.

End of Episode 3: What She Started

PMRP Summer Radio Mystery Theater approaches!

The Post-Meridian Radio Players are getting close to their performance date for their Summer Radio Mystery Theater show!

The pieces:

From The Burns and Allen Show - "Gracie Takes Up Crime-Solving!"

Gracie's fascination with the radio detective show "The Tall Man" inspires her to change careers and drag hubby George into an investigation of the local postman's missing 1928 Ford Essex!

Written by George Burns
Directed by Brad Smith

Featuring Jared Hite as Bill Goodman!

Sorry, Wrong Number!

After overhearing a murder plot on the telephone, Mrs. Stevenson tries in vain to alert the authorities, but no one seems willing to listen to—let alone believe—her story until it is too late!

Directed by Neil Marsh
Original script by Lucille Fletcher

Featuring rigel* in the starring role of Mrs. Stevenson!

And The Hound of the Baskervilles

A rural doctor from Devonshire enlists the aid of Sherlock Holmes to protect the new lord of Baskerville Hall from a sinister threat: a demonic hound!

Directed by Jess Viator
Original script by Murray Burnett
Adapted from the novel by A. Conan Doyle
Performance adaptation by Jeremy Holstein

Featuring Jared Hite as Sir Henry Baskerville!

Performance Dates
Friday, July 27th, 2012 @ 7:30pm
Saturday, July 28th, 2012 @ 2:00pm (matinee)
Saturday, July 28th, 2012 @ 7:30pm

Location
Urban Promise Church of Somerville
204 Elm Street, Somerville, MA

Besides being excited for the shows themselves, I am excited to see Jared play two such different characters. The Burns and Allen piece intends to imitate the original as much as possible, so Bill Goodman is the first role he's ever gotten based on his considerable skill as a mimic. And I've always loved The Hound of the Baskervilles as a story, so I was incredibly pysched that he got to be in that.

I will be attending two of the three performances, the Friday night show and the Saturday matinee. If anyone would care to join me, I would love the company, and would be interested in making plans for dinner and lunch beforehand. So please let me know once you've reserved your tickets, which you may do here on the show website.

The knockoff Atonement dress

You may remember that this past April, to console myself upon aging out of the best years of my life, I purchased a dress off of eBay that was designed to resemble the gorgeous green silk charmeuse gown worn by Keira Knightley in the film Atonement. I've had it for some time now, but have yet to have an occasion to wear it. But one thing I've been meaning to do is take pictures of myself in it to post here.

The dress is not a perfect fit. It's actually cut for someone less curvy than I, if you can believe that. It's a bit tight in the hips, so it has to ride up to lay right, which makes it rumple in the waist. I like how the bust shaping gives me definition. There's just same old problem I have regarding my boxy, massively oversized ribcage that means the zipper in the back only mostly closes. I think that also means the straps are not pulled as taut as they should be, and are prone to slipping. I may shorten them a bit because of that. Fortunately the back shape camaflauges the slightly gaping top of the zipper. I've always found a bare back very sexy, particularly my own.

If I remade it, which I'd like to do someday, I may copy the original, but I also would love to make it as the Tailor dress. Cornflower blue, slight cowl neck over a close-fitting beaded bodice with a straight skirt. And of course, sized to my proportions. Or possibly someone else's-- niobien* not only plays Bethany Loring, the wearer of the famous dress, she is the one cast member who I actually think physically resembles what I picture for her character. It sure would be fun to dress her up in such a gown and take her portrait in character.

But even if this dress is not perfect on me, I still like it. It has a long train and is very hot, which makes it not the easiest dress to wear, but it is a fabulous, flattering, striking color and I love the drama of it. And at the very least, it will be good inspiration for future dressmaking efforts. 

 

Get out of my ear already

Awesome 4th of July party this past weekend. The food was delicious, the company was great, and I very much appreciated the chance to swim in the nearby lake. My bikini doesn't get nearly enough time to come out and play; once a year is really not enough. It was one of the best social events I've attended in quite some time. Congrats to captainecchi* and electric_d_monk* for putting it on, they really knocked it out of the park.

The only problem is now I have water in my left ear that won't seem to come out. I have tried every home remedy that friends and the Internet can suggest, and nothing has helped. The pressure's a bit painful, and I can't hear so well on that side. I think it may have reduced slightly since Saturday, but it's still bugging me. This has never happened to me before and I'm quite vexed. The most annoying thing is that it's most comfortable when I lie on my back and the water shifts to the back of my head; when I'm upright it pools downward and is painful. I was extremely prone to ear infections when I was a kid, and I've read that the risk increases the longer the water stays in there, so I may end up seeing a doctor about it just so I don't have to put up with it anymore. Not the momento I was hoping to bring home with me from attending a fabulous party.

First attempt at draping!

Ages ago I bought something like five yards of a gorgeous striped dupioni silk off of eBay. It's lovely, in sophisticated shades of gold, red, and dark green, and has a stiff hand and a smooth texture. Today I pulled it out of the bottom of my fabric basket and messed around with pinning it to Adelaide, my dress form. I don't know much about draping, and it's one of those arts that seems simple but takes years of practice to really get, but it was kind of fun sculpting with the fabric and pinning it in interesting shapes.

I love the look of the strong, varicolor vertical lines. I just did a simple cowl neck here, and tried to draw in the waist a little bit, but now I want to try more things. I've always liked the look of elaborate pleating at the bodice, and that's definitely a sort of design that one would drape. Not sure how it would look with the stripes... but I'm excited to find out!

I want to take a picture like this

I really don't like Kristin Stewart, I think she's incredibly bland, both in appearance and as an actress, but I love this picture. I got it off 's Tumblr. If I am interpreting this correctly, both of these models are her.



I would love to take a picture like this. I've been meaning to drag myself out as far as I'm capable and photograph myself. I really like the juxtaposition of the feminine version of Stewart with her masculine version. I've watched some makeup tutorials on the Internet about how to make your face more masculine but I haven't tried them yet. I would also love to try to do my hair like man-Kristin's, all sleek and slicked back. And the suit with the suspenders is pretty cool too.

The Isabel Series

A few weeks ago I did a photoshoot with Steph. This one came out of reflecting on the fact that I don't have a lot of interesting locations to serve as backgrounds for pictures... but one I do have access to that's kind of neat is my kitchen. It's bright and airy and blue-and-white, one of my favorite color schemes for decor. (I know, I'm an old lady.) I also have lots of blue and white household items to serve as props, and it also goes well with the color of my beloved copper cookware. So in order to take advantage of this, I created kind of a Perfect Hostess character named Isabel for Steph to pose as. I like the act and accoutrements of cooking, though my desire to not make a mess and the slow speed at which the process goes made me cut back on the verisimilitude. Also I wish my microwave didn't love over the stove. Microwaves are not lovely. Aw, well.

These photos are, as usual, minimally edited, just cropped a little and with the color saturation punched up. One of these days I'm going to have to learn how to use a more serious editing program. I'd love to have these with real stark white, very rich blue, and extremely bright copper. Add that to my ever-expanding projects list. They are full-sized so they LiveJournal does not make them fuzzy.

A melancholy person

I've kind of gotten used to the idea of myself as inclined to be a mope. A melancholy person, a person with anger issues, whose nature it is to linger low. But-- I accepted this with the caveat that I wasn't always this way. That this is a recent development, based on the unprecedented level of stress in my life in recent years. I used to be a mellow person, a contented, vital person. And maybe if I move past this stuff, I can be that mellow, contented, vital person again. Because that's the person I really was.

But tonight something occurred to me. The last time I was like that? I was less than eighteen years old. A child. Before I went away to school, before I left my parents' house. I have never been like that in my entire adult life. I was a happy child. I am a melancholy adult. I have never been anything but a melancholy adult. As a fully formed person, this is the person that I am.

Maybe I can be mellow, contented, vital someday. But I have lost the comfort that I could "revert," that I already had this inside me, as part of me, maybe even the true me. Like getting back to my old weight. But I will have to become an entirely new person. I will have to become something entirely different than what I am.

Because as long as I have been a person, I have never been anything but melancholy.

Break a Leg running at Intercon M

I just got word this past week that Break a Leg has been accepted at Intercon. Glad to hear it, but I would have been very surprised had it not. It will make for a nice, short, funny eight-player game on Sunday morning. Intercon can always use those, and I get my attendance comped for a new game. Everybody's happy.

Now I've got to write the thing. Besides the interpersonal stuff which will provide the bulk of the humor, two somewhat nonstandard major sources of gameplay will be the interactive environment, and the performance aspect. It will be very important to examine the setting, which will be limited to a backstage area, to gather information and things to respond to-- there is a murdered body right in front of you, so of course there's some clue-gathering to be done. But you also have to go on in two hours, and at the moment due to that murder the show you had planned isn't going to work. So you're going to have throw something together then, because of course the show must go on! You know that the eccentric genius playwright associated with the troop has been working on her next project, and as luck would have it pieces of her work seem to be scattered around the space... but rumors of her recent complete mental breakdown may be proven by the fact that these pieces are not as coherent as the troupe might hope. Still, it's your best bet to having a show, so you'd better find ways to make the material work, or you might never work in this town again! Perform what you find for each other so you can figure out how to stage it and assemble it into a some kind of complete show.

I think that performance aspect will be a lot of fun for players, but that means I have to write that weird-ass, hopefully humorous script material too. Which makes the job a little bit bigger than originally planned. Oh, well. As usual, it'll be worth it once it's done.



Why I fail at Lesley residency

As my third residency for grad school came to a close yesterday, I am yet again relieved, and yet again rather disappointed with myself. I am badly suited to the way they work, and therefore I never get as much out of them as I should. As everyone else there seems to.

Residency sends me up and down constantly. I alternate the whole week, sometimes by the hours of the day, between feeling energized and excited by the writing craft, and feeling crushed and despondent with the surety that I will never be able to make anything of myself in this pursuit. When it comes to my art, I am incredibly sensitive to the fear that I am not good enough because of how hard it is to make it. I am entirely too sensitive, I know. My skin is too thin. But nothing inspires that fear in me like residency, where all my inadequacies are pointed out, where all the challenges I will have to face are brought out in sharp relief. And because my skin is too thin, I had at least two or three times a day when I felt wrecked. So I hate it. I hate being there, when I should be delighting in the chance to immerse myself in my craft with fellows who are supposed to care about it as much as I do.

And then there's the other thing. A big part of residency is making friends and socializing with other writers. But I'm an introvert. I've always found a useful definition for whether you're an introvert or an extrovert is how you recharge, how you recover when exhausted or stressed. Extroverts recharge by being with other people. Introverts, like myself, recharge by withdrawing. And if I'm feeling wrecked two or three times a day... I'm not going to want to hang with people I don't know well. I make friends slowly by my nature, even when the new people seem to be very cool and interesting, as these people seem to be. It would be hard enough to overcome that part of myself enough to connect with my fellow students; it feels freaking impossible when all I want to do is hide so nobody sees how sad I am.

That's the other thing. I can't stand pity. I can't stand people being like, "Oh, poor baby, let me build you up with meaningless platitudes about how it'll all be okay and how great you are because I feel sorry for you." Especially when everyone around me is facing the exact same challenges as me, and I'm just doing a lousy job of emotionally handling them. I'd rather be completely ignored than receive such condescension. So I don't want any well-meaning pitying person seeing how upset I am. Or worse, seeking me out just because they feel sorry for me. I like being alone, it's not a sad thing for me. Maybe it'd be nice to be able to be friendly with people, but I never mind being alone. Please don't patronize me by coming to keep me company out of pity. Way to find the easiest way to make me feel worse.

The biggest problem there, though, is that unfortunately, my profound desire not to be patronized often makes me suspicious of anyone who reaches out on their own. Even if they're not doing it out of pity at all, but a genuine desire to be friendly with me. But I'm inclined to think they'd have no reason to do that, since I haven't been all that friendly, so I automatically assume it must be pity. So I sometimes end up pushing that person away, even though they're trying to make a connection.

I should be trying to make those connections now. But I'm afraid without having done it when I first had the chance, I've missed the boat on really making friends with any of my classmates. I'm afraid they'll be like, "What are you doing all of a sudden? What the hell changed?" and they won't be receptive. It's been three freaking semesters already. I'm pretty sure I've screwed that up good by now.

And that's why I don't like residency. Because I really suck at it.