Sue Merrell's Blog: Laughing for a Living, page 23

The Key

I don't usually write in verse, but after spending a week at the Peninsula Writers Summer Retreat on Glen Lake, I felt inspired:



The key is on the tableWhen I arrive at cabin 5The large green plastic tag Is a remnant of the motel eraBefore magnetic passcards frustrated entry Until swiped just rightfor a green light.
Shoil is already there unloading her red gas hog,Claiming the cushy chair in the corner,Rearranging the furniture to her liking.Trish comes next with a printer the size of a baby grandThen little Wendy who flits around like a glowing TinkerbellExcept when she disappears into her den.
Shoil must have turned on the light over the sinkand for seven days and nights it watches usFixing ribs, tacos, soup and spaghettiAnd boxes and bottles and more boxes of wineWaRshing dishes with a capital RSetting a buffet to share with friendsAnd the key is still on the table.
When the sun sets behind the gatorThe sink light remains onInspiring the tapping of keysListening to the secrets of Cabin 5 shared in a circleWaiting for the smokers who sneak outsideGuiding the late night potty runAnd sending off the early morning walker
Trish who talks with her handsDecides midweek to move the tableSqueak, screech, hobble, hobbleIn front of the couchAs a home for her computer and creatingWhile watching the lakeBut the key remains on the table
She adds a green light to the deckIn case Gatsby comes to callAnd swims and shivers her way to a raft in the sunThe tower of TP on the back of the stoolOnly dwindles by two --amazingUntil Wendy confesses she’s been holding in
Shoil packs first, plotting a course from Glen Arbor to TC to Lansing and beyondThen Trish takes one last drive around the lake,Tells Carol’s poem with her fingers, and fades into the night.The final day finds Wendy and SueUsing the table as packing centralDividing up celery and cashewsPraying for pitched recyclablesDrinking the last of the wine.
Time to find the switch to turn off the light over the sinkWheel the suitcases, haul the printerAnd cooler and boxes and bagsThere’s a new green light on the deck,To remind Gatsby and the literary world We were hereBut as we close the doorThe key is still on the table

Breadcrumbs

 
Remember how Hansel and Gretel left a trail of breadcrumbs when they went into the woods so they would be able to find their way home?
   Well, I just returned from a whirlwind visit to Colorado and I felt like I was leaving a trail of bits and pieces of myself for some yet-to-be-determined purpose.
    Some of the leavings were intentional, such as the book I was reading. I enjoyed Boone's Lick by Larry McMurty of Lonesome Dove fame. I'm familiar with the Boone's Lick trail in Missouri which attracted me to the book in the first place. But the story is told from the perspective of a 14-year-old boy, so I gave it to Steve's 14-year-old grandson, Trevor, a lanky lacrosse player in Steamboat Springs.
    But most of the crumbs I left behind were a combination of debris and dementia. Like the water bottle left at the security checkpoint at Denver International Airport. It joined overflowing bins of toothpaste, soda bottles and toothpaste that violated the 3-ounce limit. Or the swimsuit I forgot hanging to dry in a condo bathroom in Winter Park. Or the breath mints I left on the kitchen table at Steve's son's home in Conifer. The hand lotion on a coffee table in Winter Park. The reams of notes I brought along for a long-distance phone conference on Michigan's upcoming Wilde Awards, no longer needed and pitched in a Colorado wastebasket.A business card handed to a woman who asked about my books at a Steamboat party.
    I gathered a few crumbs as well, mostly hugs and kisses and laughs with relatives and friends. A few pictures. Memories.
     But will the trail grow cold, the bread crumbs disappear, before I head that way again?

Book of Mormon

        Can you enjoy a play but not like it? Can you learn from something you find repulsive?
         I had the opportunity to travel to Chicago over Memorial Day weekend and see The Book of Mormon. I went with my eyes open. I knew this was going to be very tongue in cheek ...to the point of gagging.
         I knew I would be offended by the language, and I was. This is comedic cursing, using four-letter words not because they are appropriate to the context but because they aren't, and therefore it's funny. It's written by the same team that created the uber offensive animated series, South Park.
         Although the play lampoons organized religion, especially the Church of Latter Day Saints, it's actually more insulting to African cultures because the most offensive behavior is reserved for  the villagers who are being visited by LDS missionaries.
         But even in this context, I found little nuggets of truth in the story--the way Christians sometimes act like people ought to be able to ignore biological urges that go against the teaching of the church,  the way the message of salvation can sometimes seem irrelevant to current problems, and the way some Christian tales seem as conveniently  fictional as "Star Wars."
         I don't turn to musicals for religious teaching, but I believe all creativity emanates from a central fount of truth and inspiration. I think these creators were making fun of musicals as much as anything, and yet the songs are snappy and fun, the dancing was great, and the plot, though predictable, actually works pretty well. So I suppose enjoying it means I missed the point.

The new normal

One of my favorite children's books is Leo the Lop. My son Ryan and I often read this delightful story about a lop-eared bunny who wants desperately to have nice tall ears like the other bunnies. He feels defective because he's different. He tries all sorts of machinations to make his ears look like other bunnies' ears until he finally realizes that lop is normal for him.

Looking for Normal, the latest offering from Actors' Theatre, is the adult version of the same story. (See review) A man feels defective because he believes he is a woman trapped in a man's body. He decides to go through a sex change operation which reminds me so much of all the efforts Leo made to look "normal."

But unlike Leo who finally accepts himself as he is, the man in Looking for Normal goes through hormone injections, electrolysis and reconstructive surgery to make himself "complete." And that's nothing compared to what he puts his family through in trying to cope with their feelings for this man turned woman. The situation is a real test of love and friendship. The ultimate question is does gender really matter? Can you still hang out, drink beer and watch the game with dad if he's wearing a dress? Can your son still inherit the family farm if he's a she?  

Dog Gone it!

  
Even a cute little blonde dressed in bright pink can be upstaged by a dog, even a little dog whose legs look too long for his body and whose pointy little ears keep flopping over. That was the lesson offered this week at Grand Rapids Civic Theatre's DISH.
      Breighanna Minnem, 19, of East Grand Rapids,  was dressed in hot pink from head to toe to welcome dishers and talk about the upcoming show, "Legally Blonde."  She'll be portraying Elle, a California Valley Girl who takes Harvard by storm to reclaim her man.  But Elle's purse-size pooch, CeZar demanded most of the attention at the DISH event, wrapping his pretty pink leash around the actress and eventually riding off on his owner's shoulders. In the play, CeZar will have to share the scene-stealing with Jake, his gigantic canine buddy with a tongue a big as CeZar. 
       The dogs are an important part of the story, Breighanna, says, because the story champions individual differences and accepting people, and dogs, just the way they are. 
       In recognition of the importance of pets, Civic will sponsor an Adopt-a-pet event on opening night, May 31, with representatives of the Humane Society bringing in kittens, dogs and various other "creatures" for audience members to adopt.  Don't worry, you don't have to take your new pet into the theater. That would be way too much upstaging. You can purchase the pet and pick it up at the Humane Society on Saturday.
      

The other shoe drops...

     Earlier this year I reported that my book, One Shoe Off , was in the running for the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Awards. In the semi-final round, however, trimming 100 mystery candidates down to five, One Shoe Off did not make the cut.  I thought I would keep the bad news to myself, but friends have been asking, so here's what the Publisher's Weekly reviewer had to say:
      

The prose is above average in this complex, ambitious novel, but the characters are too flat and the action is too episodic to hold a reader’s attention. Josie Braun, divorced mother of an eight-year old son, is city editor of the Jordan Daily News, a newspaper published in the Chicago suburbs in 1985. Josie and her colleague Ormand “Duke” Dukakis, a married reporter and recovering alcoholic with whom Josie had a brief affair the year before, investigate a murder discovered at the same time that veteran reporter Maggie Sheffield suffers a massive stroke. While conducting the investigation and helping to care for Maggie, Josie finds clues -- one being a woman’s distinctive red shoe -- that might solve the mysterious disappearance 30 years earlier of news editor Zelda Machinko, herself a crime investigator. As Josie learns more about Zelda, eventually even dreaming of her, Josie finds that the crimes of the present are linked to those of the past. Unfortunately, even though she appears in only a few flashback scenes, Zelda, with her refreshingly frank, sometimes cynical, and always snappy first-person narration, is a much more interesting character than the bland Josie, whose story is told in the third person. Moreover, Duke’s constant animal-centric exclamations such as “Walrus whoppers!” and “Pigeon paste!” are never as clever as the author seems to imagine, and quickly grow tiresome. One finishes this novel wishing that the author had told Zelda’s story instead of Josie’s, or at least given the scene-stealing Zelda equal time. 
   Obviously not a winning review, but not horrible either. In fact, as a reviewer myself, I have to agree that Zelda is definitely more punchy than Josie, though I'm not sure I'd want to build a series around her. So, there you have it friends. The other shoe.

Anything Goes!

The world has gone mad today
And good's bad today,
And black's white today,
And day's night today, 

Sounds  like a pretty good description of 2013 doesn't it? Well, would it surprise you to know that Cole Porter penned those lyrics about that wild and crazy time...1934?

Last night when I was reviewing the new Broadway Tour at DeVos Performance Hall, I couldn't help but enjoy the great lyrics in Porter's songs, his ridiculous rhymes as well as his amazing vision.

In olden days a glimpse of stocking
Was looked on as something shocking,
But now, God knows,
Anything Goes.
Good authors too who once knew better words,
Now only use four letter words
Writing prose, Anything Goes. 

The show goes on

I am constantly amazed at the talent in this town, and I've never been more amazed than this week seeing "The Wedding Singer" twice at Circle Theatre.
I went to Wednesday's dress rehearsal with my church group and then gladly returned Thursday to review. Such energy. Such powerful singing voices. How do they sing and execute those tricky dance moves at the same time? And the characters! Every cast member is a standout.

So I'm a little surprised that some of the cast members take exception to my review pointing out the extra challenge that was overcome in the execution of the opening number Thursday. I know things go wrong in every performance; things I never see; things of which the audience is blissfully unaware. But since I did notice that one of the performers was struggling with a "wardrobe malfunction",  why shouldn't it be mentioned?

The point is not that a problem arose; the point is that it was handled with such grace and professionalism.

I know performers deal with much bigger problems than a costume snag, so perhaps they don't think it's worth mentioning.  But it is in coping with ordinary realities, like wardrobe malfunctions, that we're able to connect on a very human basis.

Theater is about creating illusion, but why pretend those illusions happen without overcoming obstacles? This isn't the movies where you can stop the camera and reshoot the scene. Theater is real time. The actors and the audience breathe the same air in the same room. And if a real live dancer is able to maintain the illusion when her costume isn't cooperating, those real people in the real audience are real impressed.

It's none of your business

What would you do if you discovered a homeless woman living on your neighbor's porch? And what if that neighbor is a grouchy hermit who never comes outside or lets anyone in? And what if you discover that neighbor is hiding another woman with horrible scars all over her face?

It's starting to sound like one of those spooky Gothic mysteries by one of the Bronte sisters. But it isn't. It's a new play, "Four Wounded Women," by Grand Rapids playwright Mike Smolinski (who as a sidelight happens to be homeless himself right now as one of the residents evacuated from the flooded Plaza Towers).

Stark Turn Players premiered the show Thursday night at Dog Story Theater. With a raised stage in the corner,  warm period furnishings and a strong, experienced cast, the 90-minute show seemed much more like traditional theater than some one-weekend experiment in a 50-seat black box.

In writing my review for The Press last night, I got so caught up in groping with the questions brought up by the play that I barely mentioned the fine performances. Mary Brown is especially good as the awkward, fearful and witty Helen, the homeless woman. But there are also fine performances by Sherryl Despres as the assertive Meryl with an underlying neediness that's just below the surface; Teri Kuhlman as the irascible Ruth, who also has her soft side; and Kim Zoller as the delicate but damaged Joy who turns out to be just as protective of Ruth.  Every actor does a fine job from Elizabeth Schaub as the snippy paper carrier to Patrick Bailey as the thundering husband and, of course, Frank VanPelt as Sam, the sane, steady--and sorta sexy -- delivery man who goes beyond the call of duty in his concern for his customer.

Which brings me back to those questions. What would you do? Should you step in, call the police? Would that help or hurt? Or is it none of your business?

Be square

      
Sometimes I feel like I'm riding the crest of a wave -- even when West Michigan isn't in the middle of a 100-year flood. I'm referring to the rising tide of would-be authors.
         "Celebrate the Mitten," Kent District Library's second annual writers' conference, was a sell-out today, with 200 people gathering at the Cascade Library to hear Michigan authors such as Mardi Link and D.E. Johnson talk about their craft, and publishing representatives from Arbutus Press and StoryLook Design offer advice for improving their work. I was pleased to be included on the panel with such talented, and successful writers.
        But I was also impressed by the writers who filled the audience: humorist Myron Kukla,  former Press food writer Kathy Carrier,  animal advocate Janet Vormitag, writing coach Tricia MacDonald. There was a poet trying to sort out how panels on copyediting and covers applied to her. A Pakistani filmmaker passed out DVDs of his latest work. A scientist said he needs an editor to help with words; a suited businessman easily won best dressed; a woman with a PhD in English bemoaned the lack of editing. They brought folders stuffed with their stories and drawings. One woman said she had written a musical, complete with script and songs, and just needed a theater to try it out. Another was trying to promote her beautiful hardcover book about the history of a lighthouse.
         I like to think the speakers provided some encouragement and answers for these hopeful scribes.  But none of us could offer the secret handshake for getting their creative treasures published and into the hands of the readers they so desperately desire.
        At the end of the day, the panelists gathered to sign and sell their books. Three people in a row asked if I could take credit cards. I don't. But Mardi Link plugged a quarter-size white plastic square into the top of her phone and in an instant she was doing business. So I learned something too. If I'm going to stay ahead of this flood of talent, I gotta be square.