Beth Bruner

Serendipity can play such a part in life.  In May of 2010 I had an old script revived, and a husband start nagging.  It had been three years since I’d written as much as a monologue, seven since I’d produced a full script, decades since I had really committed myself to writing a “serious play.”  He flatteringly felt that was a loss.  Less than a month later, Plan-B/Meat & Potato put out a call for applications to their second playwright’s lab.

I told Tobin at the interview that my main goal was to get writing again.

Almost two years later, I’ve had one (non-serious) script produced, a serious short-short in Wasatch Theatre’s Page-To-Stage Festival, and had the honor of being invited to write for Student SLAM (an incredible experience I hope to have the luck to repeat often).  And I am putting the finishing touches on my one-act submission for this year’s Lab Recital.

Goal accomplished. Discoveries made.

I’ve discovered that firm deadlines are necessary for me, and I shall have to figure out some way to keep creating them once class due dates become a thing of the past.

I’ve discovered that friends can be so generous with their time and analysis.

I’ve discovered my husband is still my best critic (“Why are they all speaking in tweets?”, and my son knows me very well (“Mom, write about something you’ll need to research, you know that always keeps you interested.”)

I’ve discovered the half-hour between breakfast and work can be incredibly productive, as can time in the shower.

And I’ve discovered a wonderful group of writers I hope I can keep in touch with as the years go on, for their insight and creativity.

Thank you universe for sending this wonderful opportunity my way—and thank you Tobin and Jerry for making it so rewarding.

Beth Bruner, the five other playwrights and two directors in The Lab will showcase their work at the Lab Recital on April 18 as part of Plan-B’s Script-In-Hand Series.  Click here for info and free tickets.

Christopher Glade in Plan-B's HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH (2003 and 2005)

Let me open by expressing my gratitude. The Plan-B/Meat & Potato Lab found me at the exact right time. I had been involved, even making what passes for a living, in the Salt Lake theatre scene for the better part of ten years. In that time I had worked for many of the professional and semi-professional companies, joined Actors’ Equity, usually maintained my insurance weeks, and had started to branch out into directing. Looking back, I am proud of the work. Somewhere along the line, however, I lost focus. A life in the theatre, the goal from way back (too far back) in the undergrad days, had become a job.

I’ve always seen the theatre as part of the service profession, taking the view that actors are more like plumbers and carpenters, than painters and composers. The idea that the stage is the most blue collar of the arts appealed to me. But my perspective had slipped into doing what I had to in order to keep the mortgage company from calling. I had lost the feeling of true discovery. Please don’t misunderstand, I am more that grateful for every opportunity I was given. I don’t believe it went so far as phoning anything in. I worked hard to do good work. But I was doing it for the wrong reasons.

The Lab has shaken that up. It started doing so in the most obvious way. We went back to basics. Script analysis, story, character. All the bones from college. I was able to look at the form with a clean eye and what a play meant and what it meant to put up a play. Which brings me to my point, I suppose.

The only reason to go to the enormous trouble of mounting any production is that you have a burning need to share this story with an audience. It’s not about finally getting to play that dream role or direct that dream play. It’s not about getting a paycheck that will actually pay your bills. It’s not about the emotional experience of the people involved. These are not bad things, but they are not important enough. The only thing important enough is that you, as an artist, feel that the story you have to tell is necessary, that the telling is required. That it is so important that you can ask strangers to exchange two hours and a sum of money for the lies you tell in the dark. You must honor that contract with something that is worth the exchange.  You have to tell people a truth that can change lives if all involved allow for the opportunity.

So thank you Lab, for helping me find my faith and renew my calling.  I look forward to being able to share my discoveries in the work moving forward.

Now would someone give me a job?

Christopher Glade will be directing for Student SLAM on January 7 - a partnership between Plan-B Theatre and the Theatre Arts Conservatory, where 25 student actors (from a dozen area middle schools and high schools), five playwrights, five directors and five designers create five short plays in 23 hours. The audience joins in the fun for the 24th hour to see the results!  Student SLAM also features Lab members Beth Bruner and Jim Martin (playwrights) and Nathaniel Hinckley (director).

Nathaniel Hinckley

Some things are probably always going to be true of the way we tell stories. One of my more recent additions to this category comes from my participation in the Plan-B/Meat & Potato Lab as a director: the hero’s journey. A flawed but seemingly ordinary person receives a call to adventure, refuses it, consults a (supernatural) mentor, accepts it, encounters tests, gains allies, makes enemies… and so on for a few more acts. It’s a great model. Luke Skywalker does it. Liz Lemon does it. Spongebob Squarepants does it. Now that I know about it, I see it everywhere. There are, I believe, a lot of similar structures – Polti’s 36 Dramatic Situations is a more complex example.

Some things about the way we tell stories may not have the same staying power. Ursula Le Guin said it best: “Conflict is one kind of behavior. There are others.” I don’t think we need to keep our characters constantly fighting to keep a play constantly moving. If you want to argue that the obstacles preventing two characters from admitting they are in love with each other is a form of conflict, then sure, there’s probably conflict everywhere in drama. With that much determination and a definition that broad, you can find anything.

A host of new methods of storytelling are springing onto the playing field. Like the internet, immersive theatre places the audience ambulatory amidst the action, free to wander and decide what to look at (generally in a larger or more unique location). Like video games, participatory theatre involves the audience as impromptu players (such as the murder mystery theatre of the 40s and 50s). And solo audience member theatre takes them in one by one, perhaps to play out a “short film” while they sit alone in a booth and watch the “screen” – or perhaps they play your best friend and make decisions that shape the world of the story as it happens.

Out with the old, in with the new, everything changes but this is still true – I want compelling stories. It’s easier for my simple brain to follow if you keep it down to approximately one protagonist who’s got a pretty clear goal. Constant fighting isn’t necessary. Remember that plot models belie the complexity and nuance of life, your muse. But they’re useful tools. Does theatre have to find a new name if it isn’t happening in theatres?

As part of his participation in The Lab, Nathaniel recently directed for Student SLAM and will direct for the Lab Recital on April 18 as part of Plan-B’s Script-In-Hand Series.