I wrote my first play almost 30 years ago when I was 14. I was attending a high school I strongly disliked that provided early lessons in how to rebel; that’s how the play came to be called “Too Long.” The “teacher” — I use the word loosely; he was assigned to in some way oversee my play production at a student event while I did my best to subvert his authority without losing the production — said that the script was “too long.” So that’s what I named it.

How did I come to write this play? I was asked by some of the other kids if I would appear in their play — a jury-trial play of some sort — and I agreed; I was thrilled to be asked. But then I noticed that most of my close friends — the odd, the inept, the ungainly and ill-kempt, the losers and stragglers, the self-conscious and left-out, in other words, people like me — weren’t invited. I kept making pitches for them to be involved in the jury-trial play, but the kids putting that on just couldn’t find any way for them to be involved, even though, unsurprisingly, there was a role for everyone on the soccer team. I understood. Kids aren’t dumb about societies of people. So I decided I’d write my own play, a comedy, with only one parameter: If you wanted to be in my play, I would write you a role. It was an equal-opportunity production. I had a lot of fun with playing off the perceived notion of my friends’ identities — I made my best friend, a seemingly weak and withdrawn boy with glasses, into a serial killer who had strangled 29 people with one hand; I turned into a femme fatale the odd girl who never turned her head lest her perfectly straight hair wrinkle; I gave great gobs of dialogue to my stammering friend with full confidence that not only could he deliver those lines, he would. And of course, in keeping with the nature of such theatrical origin stories, it all came off as a huge success. The play got big laughs and for one night everyone involved was a star. And without knowing how to do anything, with no formal training except trial and error, I became a playwright and director without realizing it.

Not much has changed. Hundreds of productions and readings and workshops later, I still have no formal training in the theatre. Instead, like an apprentice or a magpie, I’ve just adopted what works for others when I find it also works for me. Moreover, I’m still working within mini societies much like the one in school: the society of actors and directors and playwrights at my theatre company Moving Arts, the extended society of such folk locally and across the nation, the society of students and colleagues at USC. I do have some formal training in playwriting, courtesy of David Scott Milton (who shaped my career and still teaches in the MPW program at USC) and the late and much-missed Jerome Lawrence. Dave and Jerry were part of theatrical communities as well and talked about them at length and did what they could to introduce their students to those societies; that’s an inspiration and an example that I work to pass on.

On Friday night I saw the world premiere of EM Lewis’ “Infinite Black Suitcase.” (Here’s a link to the theatre company, The SpyAnts, who are producing it.) Ellen Lewis was my student at USC, then my assistant director at Moving Arts, and a member of my playwriting workshop, and now she’s out and about and inspiring other people. Ellen is both strong and compassionate, qualities that don’t always intermingle and that one doesn’t always find in writers. On Saturday morning, after her opening night and its ongoing opening-night party and toasts from many well-wishers both blood-related and not, Ellen came to workshop (of course; she’s nothing if not dedicated). In talking about the pages of her new play, “Song of Extinction,” I said that the common thread in Ellen’s plays is “being strong, and going on.” She corrected me: while they may be about being strong and going on, she felt that “going on” is possible because other people help, both in the plays and in her life. And then she turned to the workshop and generously — probably too generously — thanked all of us for what is truly her success.

Every once in a while, I’m reminded of why I’m a playwright and not a novelist. This was another instance. I never wanted to be alone in a room writing for weeks and months at a time. I wanted to be working with a group, and that was one of my earliest writing experiences. No matter how much we might complain about it at times — about the directors who misinterpret the play, the actors who bungle the lines, the producer who didn’t market the play, and on and on — every working playwright I know is here because we need these other people and secretly hope they will be as committed and as talented, as inspirational, as other committed, talented, inspirational theatre people we’ve worked for. We love the actors and the audience members and the directors and producers and everyone else, sometimes in theory, but sometimes in practice.

Almost 10 years ago now I was fortunate to be in the audience one night for one of my comedies when a woman literally fell out of her seat laughing. The moment has passed, but it’s burned into my brain and I still love her wherever she is now. I’m still writing for that woman and other people like her, and still counting on theatre people to help me do it.

A big chunk of Hollywood hillside is for sale — and it happens to include the Magic Castle.

This doesn’t mean that the Castle is closing (necessarily). It doesn’t even mean that the land will sell. (Although this is prime real estate, one block away from the Hollywood and Highland complex that includes the Kodak Theatre, which hosts the Academy Awards.) But it does mean that the owners are interested in seeing just how big the rabbits will be that bidders pull out of their hats.

Recently there was media coverage of a man who died blind and alone in his house and went undiscovered for a year.

That wouldn’t have happened, had he used this software.

(Or if you’re even nearby.)

Remember Debra Ehrhardt’s play “Jamaica, Farewell” that I raved about? Now it’s opening in Atlanta. I think we’re going to be hearing a lot more about this.

I’m already saying it on this blog and over at LeeWochner.com. What’s left to say?

Before you watch this brief video, in which a “theologian” uses peanut butter to “disprove” evolution, reflect a moment on which group more than any other comprises what remains of the support structure behind the current administration in Washington DC. Then shudder.

Part of loving theatre involves supporting theatre financially, because except in commercial productions ticket prices will never cover the production costs (and even then, only sometimes). So if you’re in town please join me this Friday night for a fundraiser supporting Moving Arts’ two productions opening in May. There’s no admission charge for this fundraiser (although if you do certain things outlined below you get a free manicure and beauty consult, and God knows I need those things), you’ll get to hang out with seriously cool and interesting people (and me, from 6 to 7:30), you can bid on rare and alluring silent-auction items, and you can support an innovative theatre dedicated to new plays, becoming more beautiful in the process.

Dear Friend,

I am excited to tell you about MOVING ARTS’ upcoming American Premiere production of Hard As Nails, by British Playwright Jon Osbaldeston.

In a world where love can be the ultimate terrorist, Hard as Nails tells the story of Bunty, a manicurist and aspiring singer; Shyla an HIV counselor; and Jennifer, a senior executive of a major drug company. These three disparate women find themselves unwittingly connected as their lives collide through ambitions and activism. Hard as Nails won the 2001 London Writers’ Competition for Best New Play.

Directed by MOVING ARTS’ Artistic Director, Paul Nicolai Stein, Hard As Nails is produced by MOVING ARTS’ Managing Directors, Lisa Marie Marschall and Michael Shutt, the team that brought you last year’s LA Times’ Critics Choice production of Crumble, Lay Me Down Justin Timberlake, not to mention the hottest theatrical production of last year…The Car Plays. The MOVING ARTS team is thrilled to be joined by Associate Producer, Michael Kearns. An award-winning playwright, solo performer, and published author, Mr. Kearns has been a fixture in the national world of art and politics for more than three decades.

I invite you to become an integral part of this production by joining us as a Producing Partner. As a Producing Partner, you will receive two complimentary tickets to the Hard As Nails Opening Night Gala on Saturday April 14th, as well as special recognition in the program

The Beauty Box in West Hollywood is hosting a Hard As Nails Happy Hour fundraiser for MOVING ARTS. Please join us on Friday April 6th from 6:30 – 9:00pm at The Beauty Box, 1106 N. LaCienega Blvd. West Hollywood, for Cocktails and Appetizers. Complimentary manicures, make-up applications, and skin consultations will be given to everyone who joins us as a producing partner with a tax-deductible donation of $100 or more.

If you would like to join us as a Producing Partner, but are unable to make it to the Happy Hour Fundraiser, please contact MOVING ARTS Managing Director, Michael Shutt at michaelshutt@movingarts.org for further information on how to donate.

In order to receive special recognition in the program, all donations must be received no later than Monday April 9th.

Thank you for your interest,

Michael Shutt
Managing Director, MOVING ARTS

Newsweek is painting the Brigham Young protest against Dick Cheney’s speech as a further rebuke of the Bush presidency and a sign of ebbing support. Here’s a sample:

Is there any place left where the vice president can be sure of a friendly welcome? Dick Cheney is traveling later this month to Utah, the reddest of Red States, to deliver the commencement address at the Mormon Church’s Brigham Young University. But even there, support is ebbing for George W. Bush and Cheney. The university has approved a rare campus protest this week against Cheney’s visit, and is considering a second on commencement day. One online petition asking BYU to rescind the invitation has gathered more than 2,000 signatures, many from students and professors as well as alumni. The university says such criticism is normal.

Calling this a political protest — or a reflection of sagging poll numbers — is unfair. It’s unfair to the students and to the university. The Chicago Sun-Times gets it right:

Cheney is target of rare protest at Brigham Young

April 3, 2007

PROVO, Utah — Some students and faculty on one of the nation’s most conservative campuses want Brigham Young University to withdraw an invitation for Vice President Dick Cheney to speak at commencement this month.Critics at the school question whether Cheney sets a good example for graduates, citing his promotion of faulty intelligence before the Iraq war and his role in the CIA leak scandal.

The university, which is owned by the Mormon church, has “a heavy emphasis on personal honesty and integrity in all we do,” said Professor Warner Woodworth.

“Cheney just doesn’t measure up,” he said.

It’s not a political protest. It’s a moral protest. It’s an important distinction.

Newsweek has a great little sampler of the books some noted writers say are most important to them. Here’s Walter Mosley’s list, which seems closest to my own reading — you’ll note that in addition to Camus, Garcia Marquez, and Freud (all represented by books I read, and some of which wound up on Doug’s Reading List), it includes Fantastic Four issues 1-100 (also a prominent suggestion to Doug — and to you). Mr. Mosley is a man of taste.

I have a great deal of respect for Dana Gioia’s work at the National Endowment for the Arts in bringing art to people who’ve never gotten much of it before, and his speech at a national conference several years ago similarly impressed me. One of the things he talked about was the death of his child, and how when something like that happens to you it burns through your life like a prairie fire, bringing instant clarity. It was thereafter that he set about quitting his (very successful, very lucrative) corporate marketing executiveship and dedicated himself to being a full-time writer. Here is his list of the five most important books to him; given his personal story, I think I’ll be reading the Merton book.

Over on Slate, Joshua Green urges Democrats to adopt the mythologizing tactics of the GOP.

I understand — and agree with — the advice not to be boring. (And not to remain stuck in the 60s.) And I well recognize the power of myth. After all, that’s what got us into Iraq.