Okay, Okay. So I didn’t really follow through with the whole one entry a week plan, despite my well-intentioned promise. So sue me. I’m a full time college student with a full time job(ish internship thing) and friends and a boyfriend and a family , several TV shows I watch religiously (WTF is going on with Mad Men?!), and lots of access to free theater tickets.
What with one thing and another, the weeks have flown by blogless. I did try though, writing and rewriting entries even more banal and clichéd than this one will most likely be. Here’s a highlight: in one gem of a potential post, I compared myself and my frustration with the project to the struggles of the immortal and tuberculosis-ridden poet John Keats.
Needless to say, you’re lucky I didn’t keep my promise.
But I’m back, and despite the fact that I abandoned writing for a while, I did not abandon the project. Progress was slow going until about two weeks ago. It seemed that I couldn’t do anything, look into rights, begin hitting up rich people for money, look for a creative staff, until I had established some sort of organization to produce this thing with. My choices seemed to be starting up an LLC, or limited liability company, under which I could raise money without worrying that if I screwed up my bookkeeping “the man” would come after my parent’s house, or creating a 501(c)3 nonprofit company, which is even more expensive, time consuming and difficult to do. I don’t have money to hire a lawyer or pay the various government fees required to create either one of these companies, and frankly, that would be a far more ambitious task than I’m ready to take on.
I was at a complete standstill. I thought for sure I would have to either abandon the project or latch on to a student or other theatre group willing to let a completely inexperienced producer to helm their production of Night, Mother, done naked and set on the moon.
But before I explored these unappetizing options, I got a hold of a friend of mine who has produced a show at NYMF, among other things. We began chatting about my venture and she introduced me to a group called “Fractured Atlas.” Fractured Atlas is a non-profit organization which, in their words, “[helps] artists and arts organizations function more effectively as businesses by providing access to funding, healthcare, education, and more, all in a context that honors their individuality and independent spirit. “
From what my friend told me, one of the many ways that Fractured Atlas helps artists is by acting as a not-for-profit umbrella through which they can create producing groups and allow donations to their productions to be tax-deductable. I signed up with Fractured Atlas the next day under Showing Up Productions, and for the last few weeks I’ve been acquainting myself with their website and the incredible work they do, both for groups and individual artists.
I’m truly indebted to my friend for her pushing me in the right direction. In addition to treating her to brunch to repay her (and continue plying her for advice), I’ll spend the next few weeks getting an idea on how much producing Almost, Maine would cost and applying for the rights. Then its time to start raising money!
Also, I’m thinking about working on some posts about culture stuff outside the project if the mood strikes me. But, though he’s one of my obsessions I will not be writing about Woody Allen, as my lovely boyfriend already has a witty and imaginative blog on the subject, Play It Again, Woody, which you should all read.
I suggest you all follow Play It Again, Woody, until I post again. This could be tomorrow or next month. I no longer make any promises!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Timely Blogging Fail
Finally banging out this latest update to appease the demands of my many fans (see the 1 comment on my previous entry). I’d love to have you think that the delay has been simply a ploy to keep, you, my readers, in a frenzy of anticipation. I’m certain many of you have gone mad from the suspense of awaiting my latest entry.
However, this was not my intention. The last two weeks have been a rude awakening for me. Here I went to the trouble a writing a proclamation of my noble mission, complete with dramatic back story and intrepid do or die attitude, and much to my surprise, the universe did not beginning revolving around the Showing Up Project.
Not a single producer has called begging to be my mentor and share their secrets. Oprah has not offering to finance the project, put her name on it a la Color Purple and let me come on her show as one of her favorite things. And I certainly haven’t suddenly developed the time, inspiration and attention span necessary to keep up a blog.
Nay, the last few weeks have been a bit of a whirl of school, work, friends, theatergoing and general merrymaking, and I confess there hasn’t even been an hour in the last few weeks that could have been devoted to blogging. Well, that’s not true either. But merrymaking takes a lot out of you. Most nights, when I finally sat down to write, I could be found within 10 minutes passed out on my desk, my fingers resting hopefully on my keyboard, the cruel glare of the blank word document shining sadly on my slumbering form.
Which leads me to the first lesson learned during this project: I have to make time for this stuff (when I’m rested or at least heavily caffeinated), or it’s never going to happen. So I resolve, here and now, no matter how tired or busy or hungover I may be, to write one update a week until the project is complete. If I fail, my readers may drag to the town square for a public flogging.
Still, there has been some progress made in the last few weeks. Firstly, I’m taking a finance class at school, to ensure that I don’t unintentionally launder money or set up a Ponzi scheme or something while pursuing investors. It’s a major fear of mine that I may accidentally break the law doing this thing, so I’m contacting some groups for emerging artists who may be able to advise me on how to avoid what I’m sure would be a pleasant enough, if not entirely desirable marriage to my cell-mate in federal prison, Rhonda.
The most important development in the project, however, is that I think I’ve found my play. My darling boyfriend, who, unlike me (bad future producer), reads plays for fun, provided me with some favorites from his library. A not-entirely-appropriate love for Woody Allen almost led me to chose Play It Again, Sam, and with all the Woody-files I know I’m certain it would not have been difficult to find a plentiful audience for this play. However, another piece the boyfriend gave me blew me completely away: John Cariani’s Almost, Maine.
Set in a fictional town basically in the snowy center of Maine, the play is a collection of scenes about people in, or falling in, or falling out of, love. It can have a cast of anywhere from 4-19, a set as elaborate or simple as you wish, and will cost almost nothing. More than that, however, it warmed my stony, cynical heart and made me feel not one but several emotions. I even went so far as to express these emotions via tears and laughter.
I fell in love with Almost, Maine from the first line. If there’s anything I’ve learned from producers I’ve come in contact with, it’s that you have to love what you’re working on, because you’re doing to be dealing with it for a LONG time. I’m thrilled by the prospect of really digging into this thing
So, it seems, the next steps in my journey are laid out for me:
-Inquire about the pricing, etc for the rights for Almost, Maine
-Make appointments with advisors to prevent crime and start the ball rolling on setting up an LLC or 501 C3. Also meet with friends who’ve done this kind of thing to get much needed advice
And most exciting:
-assemble a crack team of cohorts to assist me in my mission, because I won’t be able to do it alone.
I may not need any henchmen just yet, but if anyone’s reading this who is intrigued by the idea of working on the project in any capacity, let me know!
Until we meet again, which will just happen to be on or before Thursday, October 1st at 12:23 pm!
However, this was not my intention. The last two weeks have been a rude awakening for me. Here I went to the trouble a writing a proclamation of my noble mission, complete with dramatic back story and intrepid do or die attitude, and much to my surprise, the universe did not beginning revolving around the Showing Up Project.
Not a single producer has called begging to be my mentor and share their secrets. Oprah has not offering to finance the project, put her name on it a la Color Purple and let me come on her show as one of her favorite things. And I certainly haven’t suddenly developed the time, inspiration and attention span necessary to keep up a blog.
Nay, the last few weeks have been a bit of a whirl of school, work, friends, theatergoing and general merrymaking, and I confess there hasn’t even been an hour in the last few weeks that could have been devoted to blogging. Well, that’s not true either. But merrymaking takes a lot out of you. Most nights, when I finally sat down to write, I could be found within 10 minutes passed out on my desk, my fingers resting hopefully on my keyboard, the cruel glare of the blank word document shining sadly on my slumbering form.
Which leads me to the first lesson learned during this project: I have to make time for this stuff (when I’m rested or at least heavily caffeinated), or it’s never going to happen. So I resolve, here and now, no matter how tired or busy or hungover I may be, to write one update a week until the project is complete. If I fail, my readers may drag to the town square for a public flogging.
Still, there has been some progress made in the last few weeks. Firstly, I’m taking a finance class at school, to ensure that I don’t unintentionally launder money or set up a Ponzi scheme or something while pursuing investors. It’s a major fear of mine that I may accidentally break the law doing this thing, so I’m contacting some groups for emerging artists who may be able to advise me on how to avoid what I’m sure would be a pleasant enough, if not entirely desirable marriage to my cell-mate in federal prison, Rhonda.
The most important development in the project, however, is that I think I’ve found my play. My darling boyfriend, who, unlike me (bad future producer), reads plays for fun, provided me with some favorites from his library. A not-entirely-appropriate love for Woody Allen almost led me to chose Play It Again, Sam, and with all the Woody-files I know I’m certain it would not have been difficult to find a plentiful audience for this play. However, another piece the boyfriend gave me blew me completely away: John Cariani’s Almost, Maine.
Set in a fictional town basically in the snowy center of Maine, the play is a collection of scenes about people in, or falling in, or falling out of, love. It can have a cast of anywhere from 4-19, a set as elaborate or simple as you wish, and will cost almost nothing. More than that, however, it warmed my stony, cynical heart and made me feel not one but several emotions. I even went so far as to express these emotions via tears and laughter.
I fell in love with Almost, Maine from the first line. If there’s anything I’ve learned from producers I’ve come in contact with, it’s that you have to love what you’re working on, because you’re doing to be dealing with it for a LONG time. I’m thrilled by the prospect of really digging into this thing
So, it seems, the next steps in my journey are laid out for me:
-Inquire about the pricing, etc for the rights for Almost, Maine
-Make appointments with advisors to prevent crime and start the ball rolling on setting up an LLC or 501 C3. Also meet with friends who’ve done this kind of thing to get much needed advice
And most exciting:
-assemble a crack team of cohorts to assist me in my mission, because I won’t be able to do it alone.
I may not need any henchmen just yet, but if anyone’s reading this who is intrigued by the idea of working on the project in any capacity, let me know!
Until we meet again, which will just happen to be on or before Thursday, October 1st at 12:23 pm!
Monday, September 7, 2009
Why, Laura, Why?
The last time I had a blog, I was a self-absorbed high school freshman who used it to alternately vent my unjustified teen angst and brag about my “fabulous life.” Oh, my Xanga. I’m pretty sure you’re still out there, lost in the ether. I’m too horrified by the idea of reliving my literary past to find you, but I’m certain that if this new blog goes anywhere someone near and dear to me will uncover you and use you to ridicule me.
I wouldn’t blame them. Preserved forever on that live journal is myself at a moment in time when posting maddeningly ambiguous song lyrics was an acceptable way to express my emotions, and half priced appetizers at Applebee’s was considered both a recipe for a wild and crazy Saturday night and thoroughly engrossing subject matter for a blog. But as self-absorbed and pretentious as I was, there’s one thing I’ll say for past Laura: back in my blogging days, when I wasn’t at the ‘Bees or listening obsessively to Jimmy Eat World, I was a girl with a mission.
Back then, I was hell-bent on being an actress, and in addition to my mindless ponderings my old blog featured a detailed account of my pursuit. Towards that goal, I worked tirelessly everyday, taking classes, seeing theater, doing show after show. I eschewed illness and the need for sleep, always willing to squeeze in a new opportunity that would get me one step closer to my goal. When it came to my mission, a true labor of love, I was fearless and indomitable.
By Senior year I’d become too busy even for my beloved blog, and it was abandoned to the Un-Googled Wasteland. That year, I finally got accepted into NYU, the next step, I was certain, in my path to dramatic greatness. I moved to New York City this week three years ago, and brought with me that fearless, inexhaustible dedication. And somewhere between then and now that zeal, that devotion, that passion, died.
While I’ve never for a second regretted my decision to stop performing……Well, that’s not true; I regretted it for the exact length of the song “Lullaby of Broadway” during a performance of 42nd Street at Hofstra last weekend. I want to be a hoofer……Anyway, while I’ve almost never regretted my decision to stop acting, this past year I’ve begun to miss that tireless devotion I had as an actor. I’ve been working hard in school and interning, doing all the right things on my path towards becoming a producer, and filling my free time with friends, family, boyfriend and the distracting and magnificent city I live in. But while all this has certainly been fun and time consuming, it hasn’t been challenging and it hasn’t, really, been entirely satisfying. I haven’t had anything in my life that’s required the energy and commitment performing did. It’s been a year and a half since I stopped acting, and while I have lots of amazing times to show for it, I haven’t any real accomplishments.
So here’s where I (finally) get to the point. I realized that I’ve been feeling lost for months, bitching and moaning about my lack of mission, and waiting for some opportunity to flex my producing muscles to fall into my lap. Finally, last Monday night, my darling, inspiring and certainly not mission-less boyfriend stated the obvious: “You need to produce something. Yourself.” In other words, if you want something to do, get up off your ass and make something to do. And blog about it, so if you feel like getting lazy or giving up, you have tens of readers to answer too.
So here I go, with a new goal: to produce something, a play, a musical, a cabaret, a benefit, a burlesque show, a hip-hopera, anything, by May 1st, 2010, in New York City. I’ll document my progress (and probably whatever else is going on in my life, because I never really outgrew that love of talking about myself) on this blog. If you’ve made it to the end of this, you’re probably bored to death with no desire to keep reading. But please do. I am trying to make theater, and we all no how crazy, funny, frustrating and downright daring that endeavor can be. I’ll try my best to make my blog live up to the adventure I’ll be living.
Only 236 days until May 1st. Oh shit………
I wouldn’t blame them. Preserved forever on that live journal is myself at a moment in time when posting maddeningly ambiguous song lyrics was an acceptable way to express my emotions, and half priced appetizers at Applebee’s was considered both a recipe for a wild and crazy Saturday night and thoroughly engrossing subject matter for a blog. But as self-absorbed and pretentious as I was, there’s one thing I’ll say for past Laura: back in my blogging days, when I wasn’t at the ‘Bees or listening obsessively to Jimmy Eat World, I was a girl with a mission.
Back then, I was hell-bent on being an actress, and in addition to my mindless ponderings my old blog featured a detailed account of my pursuit. Towards that goal, I worked tirelessly everyday, taking classes, seeing theater, doing show after show. I eschewed illness and the need for sleep, always willing to squeeze in a new opportunity that would get me one step closer to my goal. When it came to my mission, a true labor of love, I was fearless and indomitable.
By Senior year I’d become too busy even for my beloved blog, and it was abandoned to the Un-Googled Wasteland. That year, I finally got accepted into NYU, the next step, I was certain, in my path to dramatic greatness. I moved to New York City this week three years ago, and brought with me that fearless, inexhaustible dedication. And somewhere between then and now that zeal, that devotion, that passion, died.
While I’ve never for a second regretted my decision to stop performing……Well, that’s not true; I regretted it for the exact length of the song “Lullaby of Broadway” during a performance of 42nd Street at Hofstra last weekend. I want to be a hoofer……Anyway, while I’ve almost never regretted my decision to stop acting, this past year I’ve begun to miss that tireless devotion I had as an actor. I’ve been working hard in school and interning, doing all the right things on my path towards becoming a producer, and filling my free time with friends, family, boyfriend and the distracting and magnificent city I live in. But while all this has certainly been fun and time consuming, it hasn’t been challenging and it hasn’t, really, been entirely satisfying. I haven’t had anything in my life that’s required the energy and commitment performing did. It’s been a year and a half since I stopped acting, and while I have lots of amazing times to show for it, I haven’t any real accomplishments.
So here’s where I (finally) get to the point. I realized that I’ve been feeling lost for months, bitching and moaning about my lack of mission, and waiting for some opportunity to flex my producing muscles to fall into my lap. Finally, last Monday night, my darling, inspiring and certainly not mission-less boyfriend stated the obvious: “You need to produce something. Yourself.” In other words, if you want something to do, get up off your ass and make something to do. And blog about it, so if you feel like getting lazy or giving up, you have tens of readers to answer too.
So here I go, with a new goal: to produce something, a play, a musical, a cabaret, a benefit, a burlesque show, a hip-hopera, anything, by May 1st, 2010, in New York City. I’ll document my progress (and probably whatever else is going on in my life, because I never really outgrew that love of talking about myself) on this blog. If you’ve made it to the end of this, you’re probably bored to death with no desire to keep reading. But please do. I am trying to make theater, and we all no how crazy, funny, frustrating and downright daring that endeavor can be. I’ll try my best to make my blog live up to the adventure I’ll be living.
Only 236 days until May 1st. Oh shit………
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)