I gave up on writing plays

I didn’t plan to stop writing plays. A character from my very first play, Chimera, had more of her story to tell. Because I have an active fantasy life, stories often wander into my brain.

In the play, Sam says “I used to be a traveler, an adventurer. I’ve been all over–I’ve even been to the dry country.” To me, “the dry country” meant that phase of our lives where we feel stuck and useless. But Sam told me it was a real place. As I thought about that story, I realized that it would never fit on a stage, even with a zillion dollar budget.

So I wrote my first novel, The Dry Country. For a year, I sent it to literary agents. No dice. I’m not young enough to wait forever for an agent, so I self-published it.

A play is the top of a pyramid. It requires a producer, a director, a stage manager, and designers–set, lighting, costumes. Then it needs people to build the set and costumes, and hang the lights–and a crew to run the show. Oh, and, of course, actors. All that costs money. Theatres must choose plays that will reliably bring in audiences–if only to recoup the costs of production.

Unless you self-produce your plays, it’s hard to find a theatre that can afford new work. I have self-produced two of my plays. It’s exhausting.

A novel, however, isn’t hard to “self-produce,” that is, self-publish. A novel can sometimes find an “indie” as in “independent” publisher that doesn’t require an agent. I did that with my second novel.

I’ve written full-length, one-act, and ten-minute plays. Now, when I have a short idea that would have become a short play, I write it as a short story. A few of those have been published in magazines and online.

Writing novels and short stories means people can actually find and read them. Much more satisfying than sending plays out to theatres that can’t really afford to produce new work.

TOXIC ACADEMIA

Academics are toxic. We need a new culture.

By TALIA HENKLE | February 2, 2021

Johns Hopkins Newsletter

Academia’s protocol requires that we stroke the egos of even our most cantankerous superiors.

Now I know why I had such difficulty with jobs. Because most of my jobs were in academia.

And I never learned to stroke egos. For some reason, I thought if I did good work, respected my bosses, and got along with my colleagues, that was enough.

I did okay in one grad school–because I had traveled there on my own dime to interview, and be interviewed by, the two professors I wanted to study with. One of them probably wanted his ego stroked, but my major professor always had my back.

However, as a student in another grad school, a faculty member in a third school, and a writer/researcher in a fourth school, no one had my back. I was tossed out of the grad program, didn’t get tenure, and departed my writer-researcher job after having a hysterical breakdown. At that last job, I simply could not manage my boss, who told me nothing, then leaned over my shoulder wondering why I didn’t know what she wanted.

Thirty years later, I’m still trying to figure out what happened. Along with academia being toxic, that is.

One: I have a long, wide, face that is deadpan in repose, although my training as an actor makes it mobile when I’m amused or interested. And it probably shows when I think someone is stupid, too.

Two: My New England upbringing didn’t teach me to charm folks or stroke egos.

Three: Even if that upbringing had tried to teach me charm, I’m stubborn. According to my parents and grandmother, I came into the world that way.

Four: Sir Walter Raleigh had me pegged.

I wish I liked the way it walks;

I wish I loved the Human Race;

I wish I loved its silly face;

I wish I liked the way it talks;

And when I’m introduced to one,

I wish I thought “What Jolly Fun!”

Retired life is swell.

WHAT MAKES A READER?

As one of those people who doesn’t remember learning to read, I’m the opposite of 54% of my fellow Americans.

The literacy rate in the U.S. is 79%. However, 54% of these literate people read below the 6^th grade level–which means kids between 11 and 12. If that 54% reads below 6^th grade, that means 5^th grade, 10-11 years old.

The Flesch–Kincaid readability tests are designed to indicate how difficult it is to understand a passage in English. The lower the number for a piece of writing, the harder it is to read. When writing for the public, you should go for a Flesch-Kinkaid level of about 90, or a grade level of around 8, which is school age 13 to 14.

Therefore, many news sources are above the reading level of 54% of people in the U.S. It also means that listening to the hearings on the January 6 insurrection, as I just did, is probably beyond the comprehension of half of the U.S. population. Scary, right?

My parents read to me. When parents don’t read to their children, the kids are stuck reading boring stuff in school, or are told what to read, whether they like it or not. Reading then becomes work, not fun. When you let kids choose what to read, they’re more likely to become readers.

However, I was born wanting to read. I never had to work at it, in school or with library books, or books I found in my grandmother’s house. I remember my mother calling to me, on a lovely weekend day, “Judy, you should go outside.” And I responded “Just one more chapter.” Other people are born wanting to paint, or play music, or excel in baseball. With none of those skills, I had to read.

My Flesch-Kinkaid level is 0-3. Some of that is extra schooling. But some is that is innate skill. I can read the way other people can play ball. I do not have good hand-eye coordination; toss me the car keys and they’ll land in the dirt. But I do have the ability to skim a document and easily get the gist.

My parents read to my younger sister, too, although she doesn’t read as much for pleasure as I do. But she had two children, a demanding job, and now two grandchildren. (I had a series of demanding jobs, but no children.) Lack of time keeps many people from reading for fun. My reading did slow down during my working years.

If you like to read, you collect books. Over the years, my husband and I have collected a lot of them. We are not out of bookcases, we are out of walls to put bookcases on.

Now that I’m retired, I read new books, old books that I’ve read several times, email and social media, magazines, even catalogues. I’d read the back of the cereal box if nothing else was around (except that I hate cold cereal.) Now that my hearing is going, I like captions on television shows so I can read them.

When I’m not reading, I’m writing. Okay, I also exercise, walking or cycling or gardening. Needless to say, I’ve read a lot about how to garden, and about what exercises will work best for whatever muscles I’ve pulled cycling or gardening.

What do you do for fun if you don’t read well, or don’t like to read?

Knit? This brilliant reader stinks at making anything or fixing anything–and not for lack of trying. Fortunately, my husband, who is way smarter than I am, is very good at fixing things.

Watch television? Well, I like crappy TV shows and movies myself, but not all day.

Garden? Okay. But us Boomers are aging out of a kneeling in the dirt. Our backs and knees complain too loudly.

Watch TV? On average, the typical American views around three hours of TV every single day. And we probably do that in our house. However, often we put on a nicely dumb show and read email or do crosswords while we watch.

It’s all about those wonderful words.

What I read to write this article:

https://www.midwestness.com/articles/2021/1/22/why-do-some-people-dislike-reading

https://www.quora.com/Why-do-some-people-dislike-reading

FANTASY WRITING REDUX: DOZENS OF TWISTY LITTLE NOVELS ALL ALIKE

(Title is from an early, that is ancient, computer game called Zork that had “dozens of twisty little passages all alike.”)

Even though I write fantasy stories, and have written a fantasy novel, I do not like books like these, as described by their blurbs.

‘What’s more, as she learns to love her new place in the world, she will have to learn to control magic that could be the key to her destiny and the fate of everyone around her.”

“Time is running out for the world of Genoa and its magical peoples. Anna is clearly different from others. With obvious physical differences and powerful abilities, she’s never quite fit in… anywhere.”

Is it because I’ve read too many fantasy novels? Or because I no longer like epic fantasy? Rebels overthrowing tyrants. Young women with magical powers that lead them into swashbuckling adventures. Human survival hangs in the balance. Can’t love them.

I once read lots of those novels. After college, I was so sick of struggling through all those important tomes, I decided to read nothing but sci-fi-fantasy for several years. But now I can’t read them. (Except, of course, Tolkein, who rules them all.)

Maybe it’s the one-damn-thing-after-another plots. I don’t mind a little Patrick Rothfuss or Tamora Pierce now and then, but a little goes a long way.

Maybe it’s the serious-and-important writing style of epic fantasy. Robin McKinley does a certain amount of young-women-with-magic-powers swashbuckling, but she’s down to earth and funny about it. For example, when the heroine Aerin redesigns a saddle: “She put the resulting wreck on (her horse’s) back, said hells, took it off, pulled it entirely to bits…”

Maybe it’s because I’m now a playwright and novelist, and don’t want to write anything where Family Secrets—or Magical Powers–Are Revealed. Looking up “scripts, secrets are revealed’” I gave up at twenty examples. Yes, it’s a useful device, but I’d rather it not be the largest part of the plot. In fact, the Pulitzer-winning play, August Osage County, leaves me cold for that reason.

What do I like? Magical realism/fabulism. For example, Alice Hoffman, Sarah Addison Allen, Kazo Ishiguro, Peter Beagle’s Tamsin.

Well, okay, I love fantasy by Peter Beagle, Robin McKinley, and Neil Gaiman. But it is not epic fantasy. It is unusual, personal, weird fantasy.

All that said, reading the reviews on Goodreads makes it abundantly clear that readers have very diverse and particular tastes.

For example, all the review below are about the same book.

“Somehow along the way the story just lost its heart.”
“The ending was so wildly implausible, it sadly negates some of the decent human drama that’s gone on before.”
“With its well-developed plot with a few unexpected twists along the way, the story hooked me.”
“The combination of carefully developed characters, well thought out plot with themes of love, forgiveness and redemption make for a great reading experience.”

Therefore–if you love epic fantasy and stories where secrets are revealed, good. Clearly those are important tropes. And I’m not above sneaking them in here and there in my own work.

What do *you* hate in a book?

p.s. I recently read The Disposable, by Katherine Vick. Per the Amazon description. I think she and I have the same issues with epic fantasy!

“Everyone in the Taskmaster’s Realm knows how the story goes: the boy of destiny goes on a quest, defeats the dark lord, and gets the swooning princess. It’s a great story, if you happen to be a knight or a wizard or a hero. But it’s pretty odious if you’re Ordinary: a barmaid who has to inflate her bosom and have her backside pinched, a homely prince who can’t buckle his swash because his face doesn’t fit, or a soldier who gets killed over and over and over again just to progress the plot.”

JUDITH WRITES: FOURTH OF JULY

Well, I missed sending a June newsletter.

Early that month, Tom and I drove to Washington DC to attend the memorial service for my brother-in-law Steve. He died quite suddenly in February, from an odd accident. He had just missed his 70^th birthday.

We met many of Steve’s friends. The church was packed–he had touched many lives. Afterwards, at the usual coffee-and-snacks meet-and-greet, I talked with what felt like hundreds of people. Then we spent several days hanging out with my sister, their children and grandchildren, and Steve’s brothers and their families.

I’m used to a quiet life. I meet friends one at a time. All those wonderful people exhausted me!

Oh, and on the way back to Ithaca, we drove into a yellow haze. Since then, we’ve been obsessively monitoring air quality.

Yesterday, we got a new member of our flock. Our two cockatiels are old men, so we needed an emergency backup bird. He’s just a baby, from a wonderful place near Rochester NY called “Birds Unlimited.” We named him George–for George M. Cohan, George Walker, and George Burns. The old birds are Weber and Fields, for a very early vaudeville duo, so we need to continue that naming tradition. (Because I wrote my thesis on vaudeville!)

I hope your air quality numbers are low, your pets are happy, and you have fun plans for July 4.

YOU GOTTA HAVE A GENRE

I can’t seem to write novels that fit into genres. And you gotta have a genre to sell your books.

My first novel, The Dry Country, was fantasy, set in a world I created. But it isn’t epic fantasy, or urban fantasy, or any of the other kinds of fantasy listed in dozens of internet sites.It isn’t high fantasy, or contemporary fantasy, or comic, medieval, grimdark….okay, read the lists for yourself.

https://thoughtsonfantasy.com/2015/12/07/17-common-fantasy-sub-genres/, https://www.theazrianportal.com/blog/types-of-fantasy

The only genre that fits The Dry Country is the catchall term, “speculative fiction.” However, some put books like Station Eleven and The Ten Thousand Doors of January into that genre. I love those books. So I’ll take on that genre.

My next novel, Siljeea Magic, does fit the Young Adult Coming Of Age genre. It has fantasy elements, but once again seems to be None of The Above. Only recently did I learn it could be called “domestic fabulism.”

I discovered the term in Amber Sparks article, “New Genres: Domestic Fabulism or Kansas with a Difference” https://electricliterature.com/new-genres-domestic-fabulism-or-kansas-with-a-difference/

“Fabulism, often interchangeable with magical realism, I’d suggest incorporates fantastical elements within a realistic setting — distinguishing it from fantasy, in which an entirely created world . . . is born. . . . Strange things happen and characters react by shrugging: animals talk, people fly, the dead get up and walk around. Time operates sideways, nature behaves mysteriously;.

“But domestic fabulism takes the elements of fabulism — the animals that talk, the weather that wills itself into being, the people who can fly — and pulls them in tight, bringing them home. Domestic fabulism uses elements like a magnifying glass, or rather, a funhouse mirror. It simultaneously distorts and reveals the true nature of the home, the family, the place of belonging or, in many cases, not belonging at all.”

Siljeea Magic definitely “distorts and reveals the true nature of home.” So it’s domestic fabulism!

In the book, 13-year-old Andrea sees small forest people, who call themselves the Bokaaj. She must save them, and their shaman the Siljeea, from the bulldozers of development. But it’s hard to be a hero while going to school, caring for your younger brother, and trying not to worry your over-protective parents. Where can Andrea belong?

My current novel, The Skill, features two women who don’t belong in their families, not only because they each have a magical Skill, but because they don’t want to be the person their families want. The book does reveal “the true nature of home.”

Domestic fabulism is my genre. Thanks, Amber Sparks.

FANTASY NOVELS

Fantasy comes in many styles. I usually don’t like Epic Fantasy, the kind that’s full of elves and quests. Except, of course, for Tolkein, who rules them all.

At one point in my life, I read a lot of epic fantasy. Rebels overthrowing tyrants. Young women with magical powers that lead them into swashbuckling adventures. Human survival hanging in the balance. I can’t read those any more.

Maybe it’s the one-damn-thing-after-another plots. I don’t mind a little Patrick Rothfuss or Tamara Pierce now and then, but a little goes a long way.

Or maybe it’s because I’m a playwright and novelist, and don’t want to write anything where Family Secrets—or Magical Powers–Are Revealed. It’s a trope in playwriting, and in epic fantasy.

What I do like: magical realism. And books with interesting characters instead of cliché misfit heroines. Robin McKinley. Haruki Murakami. Sarah Addison Allen. Kazuo Ishiguro. Alice Hoffman.

What I appreciate but don’t like: funny fantasy, like Terry Pratchett.

However, reading reviews on Goodreads makes it abundantly clear that readers have very diverse and particular tastes. One woman’s artichokes are another woman’s ICK, as it were.

Credentials: Years of omnivorous reading. Degrees in theatre. Playwright.

And I’ve written two fantasy novels, with another in the works. The Dry Country is actual fantasy. Siljeea Magic is closer to contemporary magical realism. Both can be found on Amazon. My author page is at: https://rb.gy/fmbjcj

FINALLY SEEN

I love getting my work in print, but I have discovered that online magazines are also great.

Most recent: an essay in Hags on Fire. Not only is that a great name for a rock band, it’s also a great place to read poems and essays by women over, say, 50. They recently published my “In Praise of Cronehood,”

https://www.hagsonfire.com/issue-3/inpraiseofcronehood.

The picture they chose to go with it is me as I would like to look and feel! Especially I would like to be on the ocean. But that must wait until the current COVID up-tick has subsided.

One of my short plays has just appeared in Barely Seen magazine, in their Write Bites collection. Writing can indeed bite, when the ideas disappear, and/or when sending your wonderful art into the void gets exhausting. So thank you, Barely Seen. The play is called “Less Able,” and was inspired by my longer play about chronic invisible illness, called, of course, “Chronic.”

https://barelyseenpoems.blogspot.com/2021/08/writes-bites-collection.html

If you can, take time to read other writers on Hags on Fire and Barely Seen. Because we want to be read. And seen.