Marc Acito's Blog, page 6

Conflict Resolution

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

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

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

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

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

And birds of a feather flock together.

A New Start

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

Perhaps I should explain.

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


Well, it's Brahma time.

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

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

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


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

Again, perhaps I best explain.

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


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


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


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


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


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

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

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

To be continued...

A (Cathartic) Night at the Opera

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Attack of the Theater Person

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bastard Jones' Rocktastic Demo

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

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

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

Amy wrote the music:


I wrote the book:


And we collaborated on the lyrics.


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

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


Here's Amy with our kick-ass band.


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

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


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

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

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

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

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


This video is the reason why we asked her:



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


My favorite comment was about Natalie Portman in this dress:


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

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


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

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


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


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

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

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



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


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



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

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


Then there were these guys:





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



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



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

Stay tuned for the demo online...

Objective Correlative

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

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

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

Here's the New Yorker:

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

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

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

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

The class is available here.

A Helluva Town

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

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



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

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

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

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

And did I show you the view?

More of The Upside

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

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

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

Back on NPR

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

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

WARNING

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