Whither Novels?

Just got the question, from an unhappy theatre fan.  As she put it to me...

You write such beautiful plays , what the heck are you doing writing novels now?

Well, it's been a long process in coming, but basically my writing has grown too searching to fit into the one hundred minutes granted in stagetime.

Put another way - since I believe that all artists either accept that they are entertainers or that the only applause received will be their own - the most common remark about my last plays A Dropped Stitch, Teacup Tipsy and One Tile Short went as follows:

Um, I'm not sure I got all that.  I'm going to have to see it again.  Maybe three times.

Not a good sign.

Imagine my shock when one of the sweetest hearts in the world, an old theatre salt of decades' experience, quietly confided in me that she understood only about one third of Man In The Box's lines in Teacup Tipsy.  And that was after I felt artistically frustrated at having to take out, compress, boil down, etc., the writing.

In contrast, when I was writing Fighting for Eden, the canvas (so to speak) was so incomprehensibly huge that I felt lost in it for months at a time.  Over-shadowed, humbled, even crushed at times by the gargantuan portions.

Which is why, whenever I pick up a copy, I know that I am holding a year of my life in my hands.

At any rate, yes, I am certain that I will write for the stage again someday.  Just not soon.  At the least, I really want to finish this second big canvas, first.

Teacup Tipsy Candids

Feeling nostalgic today after a fan raved about seeing this whimsical fable of mine...


MAN IN THE BOX
(to audience) 
Happ’ly does my tale dance its final steps
But this: St. Teresa’s Teacup Tipsy
Grew to know all Lyla’s, Lacey’s, Latia’s
Fondest dreams, with the added luster of
Reginald’s new-found strength and ideals
Spoken out, shared with a world long grown dark,
Now new-lit with new-found inspiration.
St. Teresa’s Teacup Tipsy again
Vibrant center of life and love to a
Bustling and grateful neighborhood.
Dispenser of delightful teas and talk
St. Teresa's Teacup Tipsy, shattered
Once, found life anew, bright beacon b’came to
All who have lost, to dare to dream again.
(Fade.) 

The production was mounted in April 2010 by The Driftwood Players.

Photos courtesy of Wendy Enden

Teacup Tipsy Prologue

It was two years ago that rehearsals began for my Teacup Tipsy.  The Driftwood Players saw enough in the play to mount it on their Alternative Stages.  A salute, then, to those happy memories.  Here is the prologue...

Catherine Bailey as Lyla in
Jeff Stilwell's Teacup Tipsy.
 Photo by Wendy Enden.

MAN IN THE BOX
(to audience, adjusting hearing aid)
Come, O gentle hearts, and turn up your ears
For I've a fable to tell this fine morn.
'Twill reduce some to tears, others to cheers
On this day like all too many, save one:
The day our loveless Lyla loved anew.

(Lyla enters dancing, sadly.)

This morn she danced in as usual, wiping
Drops from her sorrow stainèd cheeks that on
Fertile ground might have blossomed forth flowers
Of any hue, scent, or wondrous beauty!
But not this ground.  Nay.  For lo! dreaded Starbucks
Cast its dark shadow on the rosy dawns
Of her younger years, dooming her mother's
Pride and joy, the most charming wee tea shop,
Vibrant center of life and love to a
Bustling and grateful neighborhood.
Dispenser of delightful teas and talk
St. Teresa's Teacup Tipsy, shattered.
No blade of lush grass, nor dew-dropped petal
To adorn this benighted vale of pain since.
Woe follows woe, then, unstemmed.  Luckless Lyla's
Mama passes from this sorry, sore place
To join her gentle Papa, far long gone,
Leaving lonely Lyla sweeping up fragments.

(Reginald enters.)

Enter the unlikely hero, a man
With much to say about a better world
If only this tim’d soul could find his voice.