10/28
I'm about to start working on a HORROR writing project with one of my theater cohorts Carolynne and I'm having trouble finding the time to do it. We (along with Telisa) wrote a play called "Stings Like Acid" in 2010 and had a lot of fun brainstorming and writing on various subjects that interested us, looking for the shape and theme our script would take. It seems like this go-around we don't have the leisure to work that way; we would like to submit this HORROR piece to Freehold's Studio Series and the deadline is in a couple of weeks.
This kind of art takes a lot of energy. You have to schedule time to get together. You have to create. You have to rehearse. You publicize or submit your ideas, possibly facing rejection or low attendance or god forbid a bad review. And there is no certain money in involved in any stage of this process, which can take months or years of your precious life.
I guess for me it's the Performance at the end of this cycle that can make it all worth it. Or not. Although every step is a gift, sharing what you've created and polished with other people is the key to my artistic happiness.
So I summon the energy and keep plowing ahead.
I'm about to start working on a HORROR writing project with one of my theater cohorts Carolynne and I'm having trouble finding the time to do it. We (along with Telisa) wrote a play called "Stings Like Acid" in 2010 and had a lot of fun brainstorming and writing on various subjects that interested us, looking for the shape and theme our script would take. It seems like this go-around we don't have the leisure to work that way; we would like to submit this HORROR piece to Freehold's Studio Series and the deadline is in a couple of weeks.
This kind of art takes a lot of energy. You have to schedule time to get together. You have to create. You have to rehearse. You publicize or submit your ideas, possibly facing rejection or low attendance or god forbid a bad review. And there is no certain money in involved in any stage of this process, which can take months or years of your precious life.
I guess for me it's the Performance at the end of this cycle that can make it all worth it. Or not. Although every step is a gift, sharing what you've created and polished with other people is the key to my artistic happiness.
So I summon the energy and keep plowing ahead.
10/15
It's so funny to me that I have this idea of making money from my writing. I suppose I should be more positive about it, but the truth is that very few people are actually able to support themselves with their art. Will I write a fantastic play that will enhance my retirement fund? Will I publish a graphic novel of my blogs and be able to pay my rent for a year? All of this is hidden, and the only thing to do is to keep following the path, and hope there is money for food along the way.
And make sure you dig for the roots.
9/23
Since I finished with the production of my play The Deadliest Instruments, I've turned to finishing up some old writing projects. Although I reach a point where I think I AM DONE and I DON'T NEED TO DO ANYTHING ELSE TO THIS IT IS PERFECT. This is actually a point where I need to put it aside for a bit and come back to it, edit, add stuff, edit more. So I am on my third round of a radio play called "3 Scientists". It is about a research project centered around the mysterious FORMULA X. It seems to affect strange...."changes" in it's subjects.
I'm also trying to write new BLOG entries for ALL ABOUT US, write movie reviews for PSYCHOTRONIC 16, and what about my whore play! That gem is still percolating I guess.
PSYCHOTRONIC 16
Have you seen this amazing movie blog? Jon Behrens, local film maker runs it and he puts up some amazing films that you won't see anywhere else. And now you can read my reviews of these fantastically strange movies!
Check it out
click on photo to go to PSYCHOTRONIC 16
8/29
Since I've been working on producing and acting in The Deadliest Instruments, I haven't had much brain space for anything else. I am starting to surface from that dream of an experience, (every theater piece feels like a dream to me upon ending; there were moments of joy, despair, fear and excitement and I have nothing tangible to show for it except my memories and some strange lingering physical sensations. In a month or so I will have a dream about it, something to do with it going on that night or in minutes and not remembering my lines anymore.)
One of the critiques of the show was that it was too short. The script was an hour long, an anomaly in these days of 3 hour productions. My writing aesthetic is based on my childhood of saturday morning cartoons, 1960's underground comics and The Little Rascals. I feel like I have a short attention span that demands I tell you the story as efficiently as I can. But am I sacrificing substance for cheap thrills?
Let me think on that for a bit.
BAD NEIGHBORS excerpt
CHRISTINE is returning to her apt. from the laundry room. She carries a laundry basket full of clean clothes. CANDY her neighbor pops out of her apt. to meet her.
CANDY
Ohhh. Hi Christine. I thought you were my ex.
CHRISTINE
Hey. What’s wrong?
CANDY
The kids, my ex, everything. Everyone and everything is causing me grief. I feel like nobody is on my side.
CHRISTINE
That sucks.
CANDY
I mean I just want to be able to forget about it all for a little while, you know?
CHRISTINE
Yeah. I do.
CANDY
Red wine barely does anything for me anymore. It was good for awhile but now I have to drink a whole bottle and I still have to sit in the bath for hours afterwards. I take baths to help my nerves, like hydrotherapy?
CHRISTINE
Oh yeah, I do that. Have you tried-
CANDY
It usually helps a lot. But now I have to sit in the bathtub all day to have any effect. Like yesterday, I took 3 baths and drank one and a half bottles of red wine!
CHRISTINE
Where were the kids?
CANDY
At home. They’re at day care today. I’m job hunting.
CHRISTINE
Are you still looking for a job?
CANDY
Of course! That’s kind of a stupid question.
CHRISTINE
Sorry.
CANDY
It’s ok, I just feel like you’re judging me.
CHRISTINE
Uh....
CANDY
It makes me want to get loaded so bad.
CHRISTINE
Well I’ve got to-
CANDY
I wanted to ask you, do you want to get some heroin?
CHRISTINE
What?
CANDY
Do you want to split some with me. I’ll get it.
CHRISTINE
Well is it expensive?
CANDY
You can give me the money later - my ex is coming to get the kids for over night, what time does Les go to sleep?
CHRISTINE
Umm, seven? You’re leaving right now?
CANDY
I’ll come up around 8 -
CHRISTINE
But, uh Candy aren’t you, ummmm, aren’t you addicted to that stuff?
CANDY
Don’t worry, I’m not going to shoot up. It’ll be totally different this time. This one time.
Candy exits offstage, Christine to her apt. Both quickly.
I am battling the demon NICOTENE once again. It can be a brutal battle: you may think that you are done with smoking, Fine!Thanks! as a matter of fact. But there may be a seething thought that trails behind you. One for me is "why are you putting yourself through this Kirsten? Just go buy some. Don't be an idiot. DON'T BE STUPID JUST DO IT!"
But this time I feel different. The undercurrent this time is whispering valiant thoughts, and about victories to come. (I'm reading Lord of the Rings). Of not poisoning myself. The time for smoking cigarettes is done, and i think accepting that is also about accepting my mortality.
Since I will be turning 40+++ this year, being a "middle aged" person is what I am supposed to be. Do i have 40 more years tho? 5? Will everything be over tomorrow?
So deciding that "smokin cigarettes time" is over for me, forever, is forcing me to acknowledge the end of me too, of a time in my life when i was that person. I'm an addict, I can't just smoke one every once in awhile, in fact during this round of smoking, (I smoked from 16 - 25 yrs; 30-40 yrs, and now almost a year.) I have smoked more than i ever did! and it's kind of gross.
The end, the end of things!
But do not fear, I have weakened the demon, i will finally banish him forever.
But this time I feel different. The undercurrent this time is whispering valiant thoughts, and about victories to come. (I'm reading Lord of the Rings). Of not poisoning myself. The time for smoking cigarettes is done, and i think accepting that is also about accepting my mortality.
Since I will be turning 40+++ this year, being a "middle aged" person is what I am supposed to be. Do i have 40 more years tho? 5? Will everything be over tomorrow?
So deciding that "smokin cigarettes time" is over for me, forever, is forcing me to acknowledge the end of me too, of a time in my life when i was that person. I'm an addict, I can't just smoke one every once in awhile, in fact during this round of smoking, (I smoked from 16 - 25 yrs; 30-40 yrs, and now almost a year.) I have smoked more than i ever did! and it's kind of gross.
The end, the end of things!
But do not fear, I have weakened the demon, i will finally banish him forever.
4/5
I wonder how many things we play at being as children we actually become in some way. I've been thinking about how this applies to my job figure-modeling.
Do you remember those oil lamps that had a ceramic, (or were they painted plastic?) classical figure posed behind slanted strings that dripped oil? This hanging lamp looked as if actual water was constantly dripping down it! These were magical lamps that I saw as a child only in the store's lighting section, my mother would NEVER have bought one, "too tacky". But for me they were the height of glamour and beauty, and I remember standing in the shower trying to emulate those lamp figures. I would cup my hands strategically against my body so the water would flow just so. I would stand in the pose and imagine myself in a garden. As a statue holding and freeing water. Then I would change and try to alter the flow of water.
I still occasionally play this game in the shower, but I never do while I'm actually modeling. No water there, I guess.
************************
I wonder how many things we play at being as children we actually become in some way. I've been thinking about how this applies to my job figure-modeling.
Do you remember those oil lamps that had a ceramic, (or were they painted plastic?) classical figure posed behind slanted strings that dripped oil? This hanging lamp looked as if actual water was constantly dripping down it! These were magical lamps that I saw as a child only in the store's lighting section, my mother would NEVER have bought one, "too tacky". But for me they were the height of glamour and beauty, and I remember standing in the shower trying to emulate those lamp figures. I would cup my hands strategically against my body so the water would flow just so. I would stand in the pose and imagine myself in a garden. As a statue holding and freeing water. Then I would change and try to alter the flow of water.
I still occasionally play this game in the shower, but I never do while I'm actually modeling. No water there, I guess.
************************
3/8
I am constantly composing stories in my head. it is not overwhelming, but i get frustrated when i can't remember them later to write them down. I think that if i can just remember the beginning, or the idea i had been thinking about, then i'll remember the rest. doesn't always work. I take a notepad with me sometimes, but since i am constantly switching purse/bags, it often gets lost in the shuffle of stuff. The "all about us" blog is a written record of those short "stories" that run through my head. I always think that i enjoy such a short format is because i have a short attention span. I loved t.v. passionately as a child.
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2/19/12
The most pleasurable time to cut my arms was while listening to the live version of "Dazed & Confused" cranked up, having had a beer or a few. Then it would be whirling around my dorm room with a folded bottle cap with which to joyously bleed my arms! I guess I wasn't adjusting to college very well.
Michelle and I back home had conceived of the folded bottle cap cutting instrument one night somewhere, drinking beer again. An accidental discovery, for sure. It cut not so deep but more jaggedy; it curled the skin up a little bit at the edges. And it wasn't so scarily quick and heartless like a razor blade.
We bonded over the cutting issue, really that was our strongest connection. We co-wrote a play. We lusted to try heroin. Nancy & Sid were our idols. We pondered our deep connection and wanted to know "why?"
Adolesence was ending. I saw Michelle years later, in the smoking room at the UW and we sat across from each other at the same table. We ignored each other like bad secrets.
I eventually stopped cutting and now I have to find new ways to know I can still feel.
**************************
The most pleasurable time to cut my arms was while listening to the live version of "Dazed & Confused" cranked up, having had a beer or a few. Then it would be whirling around my dorm room with a folded bottle cap with which to joyously bleed my arms! I guess I wasn't adjusting to college very well.
Michelle and I back home had conceived of the folded bottle cap cutting instrument one night somewhere, drinking beer again. An accidental discovery, for sure. It cut not so deep but more jaggedy; it curled the skin up a little bit at the edges. And it wasn't so scarily quick and heartless like a razor blade.
We bonded over the cutting issue, really that was our strongest connection. We co-wrote a play. We lusted to try heroin. Nancy & Sid were our idols. We pondered our deep connection and wanted to know "why?"
Adolesence was ending. I saw Michelle years later, in the smoking room at the UW and we sat across from each other at the same table. We ignored each other like bad secrets.
I eventually stopped cutting and now I have to find new ways to know I can still feel.
**************************
1/3/12
I am so thrilled to have come to grips with the fact that i just can't remember all of the genius ideas in my head - so why not carry a notebook and write that shit down! And it's working! Because I was sitting down at the computer trying to write and it just wasn't working for me. I couldn't think of anything! So now, I kind of have this primer or reservoir with me to hold it for me.
A writer writes, you know.
***************************************
I am so thrilled to have come to grips with the fact that i just can't remember all of the genius ideas in my head - so why not carry a notebook and write that shit down! And it's working! Because I was sitting down at the computer trying to write and it just wasn't working for me. I couldn't think of anything! So now, I kind of have this primer or reservoir with me to hold it for me.
A writer writes, you know.
***************************************
*My goal is to write everyday. Not very often do I actually do this, and I will usually berate myself (until I'm distracted by something else) for not having made the time to do it. "A writer writes, everyday" right? I'm still battling with my lack of discipline/desire to have some. Maybe this will never be resolved, I could just take my gift for what it is. So what is it? To me, it's the ability to visualize a story and communicate it to a reader through language. What amazed me is the dictation aspect of my writing, that i'm just transmitting to paper ideas that happen to flow through my hands. From my brain? I guess, but that's not very romantic.
Will I stop whining about my writing-deficit on this page? Probably not, I'm thinking about it constantly. But at least I'm writing!
Will I stop whining about my writing-deficit on this page? Probably not, I'm thinking about it constantly. But at least I'm writing!
*i will tell you something about the BLOGS i have been writing. They are trade secrets so don't tell anyone.
1. ALL ABOUT US this blog now has 66 entries, all about 250 - 500 words illustrated with my photography. I give myself these rules when writing it: I have one hour and it was to be done and published. I usually pick a theme like "try to make this sound like a real person talking" or "try to create the atmosphere of a place so the reader really sees him/herself there." I usually write the text first and then choose photos from my massive photo database. Sometimes I have trouble starting so i will choose the photos first.
2. HERSCHEL BURGER oohhhhh I mean i don't know if it's the name but....is it? I just thought of it very spontaneously and had to use it, i always picture H.B. as some kind of Merlin/Boss guy. I don't know! I tried to work longer on these "urban fairy tales" to more finely craft them than the A.A.U. blog. So it's format was stories in installments, each inspired by a universal mythological theme.
Lofty I know! I got stuck a lot and didn't finish the stories. I will do that in the future, and maybe do a book! or something.
3. Momento Mori i started this BLOG as a memorial for my brother on 6/16/11 which would have been his 38th birthday. I had been looking through his "artifacts" (?what else do i call them? his legacy?) and i thought in a flash, I SHOULD START A NEW BLOG. CALL IT MOMENTO MORI WHICH MEANS "REMEMBER DEATH". AND YES, "MOMENTO" IS THE SAME AS "MOMENTI" I LOOKED IT UP IN THE O.E.D. I only have the one entry, memorializing death is a tricky thing you know, and i was pretty much spontaneously moved to co-write this one. BUT i think the next one may be about my maternal grandmother, Julia German Acedo.
*keeping up is not easy. The blogs are falling behind, my magnificent future play has not yet been started, and...well i guess i can continue to complain but that won't do much good. Sometimes it is so hard to start, especially when time is so limited and there are so many good books to read (or re-read). Right now I'm re-reading "The Man With The Golden Arm" by Nelson Algren. Yes it was a movie featuring Frank Sinatra but it's also a fascinating book with amazing characters and a very sad story.
One way I provoke myself into writing, at least on the blog "All About Us" is to think of a particular writing exercise I'd like to work on. Such as creating "real" character sound in dialogue; translating a particular theme I'm thinking of into broader, "mythological" terms; creating a short story that could accompany the pictures I've already chosen to work with. Or if I'm lucky, the words just come to me and I write (or type) them down.
Wake up Muse, I'm ready to work!
* The stuff I've been writing lately....gosh is it strange. And scary, at least it is to me. I'm not really sure where it comes from, I'm just a dictation machine! So to re-read my writing can be a little disorienting, I can almost hear myself say, "kirsten, are you sure you want people to read this?"
Let me explain.
My practice these days, especially with the blogs, is to write and not censor. That might sound obvious, but when I look back at what I have written, sometimes I cringe. It is very personal stuff and I feel as if I am lying naked on the page for all to see! But, as i was discussing with a friend the other day, my personal insights might become your personal insights as well; if I've done my job, the writing will start out personal, become universal, and then turn personal again as it applies to someone else's life. It feels almost like a circle. almost. So i have to expose my soul so you can see use it to mirror your own.
Let me explain.
My practice these days, especially with the blogs, is to write and not censor. That might sound obvious, but when I look back at what I have written, sometimes I cringe. It is very personal stuff and I feel as if I am lying naked on the page for all to see! But, as i was discussing with a friend the other day, my personal insights might become your personal insights as well; if I've done my job, the writing will start out personal, become universal, and then turn personal again as it applies to someone else's life. It feels almost like a circle. almost. So i have to expose my soul so you can see use it to mirror your own.
*I tried to go grad school to study poetry. Become a Poet. No offense if you're a master in your field, but poetry seems like a very shady career path to go into debt for. You can starve without the M.F.A.. I signed up to take the GRE graduate school exam, but i strangely avoided studying at all costs. It wasn't until the week before the test that i even looked at some of the sample questions, and discovered they might ask me about books i had never read, some authors I had never heard of. Uh oh.
I was in the library for 3 days and 3 nights, pouring over these ancient lit books that basically cliff noted all the esteemed tomes i had, in my suburban public school education, never been made to read.
But i couldn't really do it, i could cram the stuff in, but it just wasn't sticking. it hurt, a little.
I completed my higher education with a B.A. in creative writing, which is no less readily employable than a lettered Poet, actually. I have started writing again after a long hiatus, basically since 1993! It's like moving back into my skin.
I was in the library for 3 days and 3 nights, pouring over these ancient lit books that basically cliff noted all the esteemed tomes i had, in my suburban public school education, never been made to read.
But i couldn't really do it, i could cram the stuff in, but it just wasn't sticking. it hurt, a little.
I completed my higher education with a B.A. in creative writing, which is no less readily employable than a lettered Poet, actually. I have started writing again after a long hiatus, basically since 1993! It's like moving back into my skin.
You already know about my haunted story blog?
ALL ABOUT US
kirstenmccory.blogspot.com
ALL ABOUT US
kirstenmccory.blogspot.com
Or try my Urban Fairy Tale Blog
HERSCHEL BURGER
kirsten-mccory.blogspot.com
HERSCHEL BURGER
kirsten-mccory.blogspot.com
Plays:
The Deadliest Instruments
Bad Neighbors
They Walk Among Us
Stings Like Acid co-written with Telisa Steen and Carolynne Wilcox
Radio Plays:
A Crow's Story
Finding Charleston to be broadcast in on KIXI 880 Imagination Theater
& Shoestring Theater, KUSF 90.3 FM San Francisco
Ten Minute Radio Plays:
In The Cellar
Poison
The Deadliest Instruments
Bad Neighbors
They Walk Among Us
Stings Like Acid co-written with Telisa Steen and Carolynne Wilcox
Radio Plays:
A Crow's Story
Finding Charleston to be broadcast in on KIXI 880 Imagination Theater
& Shoestring Theater, KUSF 90.3 FM San Francisco
Ten Minute Radio Plays:
In The Cellar
Poison
