Stuck in the pain body

 A few years ago, I went to see a new therapist. At our first appointment, she asked if she could read my numbers. I'm not an expert in astrology, but I do occasionally read my horoscope. I was curious more than anything so I agreed. This woman, knowing nothing about me, said "you're a writer." I nodded. She then said "your current project is killing you." 

Um, that's one way to get my attention. I'd been working on a novel for almost 10 years about a traumatic and turbulent time in my life. A story I thought had to be told before I could move on with anything else. 

"You need to destroy this project." Not what I expected to hear . . . at all. 

"It is keeping you stuck in your pain body. Until you let this story go, you'll block your source of creativity."

In one brief session, this therapist made me realize the trauma story didn't define me. It was a part of my journey, but not *the* story. 

I went home. Deleted all versions of that novel. And began writing A Date with the Fairy Drag Queen. 

Please click the link below to contribute towards the success of the novel that began when I let go . . . 

Dreams do come true

Meet Marlena Merlot

EXCERPT FROM A DATE WITH THE FAIRY DRAG QUEEN

Walking into Marlena's room was like simultaneously walking into a nursing home, Grateful Dead concert, and crowded men's room at a bar on New Years' Eve. The sickly smell of Vicks Vapor Rub mingled with vomit, piss, and more than a hint of weed. No matter how many times I stepped into that space, the smell assaulted me, and I had to stifle my gag reflex.

Marlena must have seen me wrinkle my nose. "Ah, the crazy rich straight girl is offended by my perfume. Eau de AIDS isn't your fragrance?" she teased.

"I prefer Eau de Montezuma's Revenge," I quipped.

So, she was in a good mood today. Wasn't going to kick me out or tell me to go fuck myself. I relaxed and sat in the wooden folding chair next to her hospital bed. There were few personal touches in her room. The others decorated their spaces - with family photos, art, plants - but Marlena's space was plain. I made a mental note to ask her about that sometime.

"I didn't think you'd do," Marlena sang. Her dachshund Charlie looked up from underneath her sweatshirt with his big brown eyes then breathed a deep sigh and snuggled back into his dog nap.

"He loves it when I sing Dylan. Our favorite crooner," Marlena explained.

"It's soon after midnight," Marlena continued singing in a husky, sultry voice. If I closed my eyes, I could picture her as the magnificent Marlena Merlot in all her shimmery, glittery finery.

Charlie's tail started to wag.

"And I don't want nobody but you." Charlie's tail was going so fast now I worried he'd propel Marlena off the hospital bed.

"That's from 'Soon After Midnight' the song that inspired my drag look, "she said. "I imagine that someday I will meet the Fairy Drag Queen on the other side, and I want to be radiant for her."

"Never heard it," I admitted.

"Well, it should be our theme song," Marlena declared. "Remember how much I hated you when you got here?"

As if I could possibly forget. The creamed corn Ensure mess on my lap. The refusal to take her medicine if I sat next to her at the table. Her obnoxious comments and insistence that I smelled bad. "I gag every time she walks into the room," Marlena told Harry. "It's like I'm allergic to her pheromones. I'll die sooner if you let her keep volunteering here," she insisted.

Harry reminded me again that the disease played funny tricks on Marlena's mind, and sometimes the medications had strange side effects. I'd shrugged it off. But her words had stung. Of course they had. I was clinging to the guys at Horizon House. They kept me from thinking about why I was really there.

But somehow it seemed that Marlena could smell right through me.

Like she knew I had a secret and was going to ferret it out at all costs.

-Accepting donations through 8/15/2024 at 12:00 p.m.

https://gofund.me/6c8993e3

A Date With the Fairy Drag Queen's Path: From inspiration to publication

THE INSPIRATION. The inspiration for A Date With the Fairy Drag Queen began in 1990 when a series of events led me to Horizon House, a home for men dying of AIDS. The Jesuit motto is "men and women in service of others" and a key part of our college curriculum was active participation in community service. I was assigned to HH, specifically as a companion to Chris, who was struggling more than some of the others to accept his terminal illness. 

THE TITLE. The novel's title was inspired by Bob Dylan's Soon After Midnight. "Charlotte's a harlot. Dresses in scarlet. Mary dresses in green. It's soon after midnight. And I've got a date with fairy queen." Where does the drag come in? As a 19-20 year old, I volunteered at Horizon House, a hospice for men dying of AIDS. I was assigned to a curmudgeonly older man who did not like me. Until we discovered a mutual love of Dylan. Chris liked to think there would be a fairy drag queen waiting for him on the other side. When he learned I wanted to be a novelist, he said something along the lines of "make sure I'm in it, and make sure Charlie (dog) is, too." They are. I know that he'd be proud in his crusty way...."it's probably not all bad." Here's to Chris and Charlie.

THE SEEDS. The novel itself began as three short pieces in Valley Haggard's Thursday night Life in 10 Minutes writing workshop. 

THE WORK. The actual writing of the novel took place at the Starbucks at Broad and Bowe where Rene Genesee Smith created a community of oddballs and misfits-the perfect space to write about those who are "othered."  

THE END. When I got fired from a law firm in the fall of 2019, my husband told me to take some time to finish my novel before I found another job. I wrote "the end" on the manuscript at the Broad & Bowe Starbucks in December 2019. That location was destroyed in the riots in May, 2020.

THE SYNOPSIS. https://shorturl.at/wiGq7

THE FLIRTATION. Three years in a row I won the Agent Dating Game at the James River Writer's Conference. Each time winning a one-on-one with an agent, all of whom asked to see the complete manuscript when I gave my elevator pitch. They had wonderful things to say about A Date With the Fairy Drag Queen. "devastating, heart breaking, compelling." They didn't take me on as a client, but they gave me invaluable advice and feedback.

THE FINETUNING. I hired an amazing editor - Cindy Cunningham, formerly with Life in 10 and now the founder of the Wellspring Writing Collective. 

THE HUNT. Beginning on June 27, 2024, I sent queries/bios/synopses/sample pages/complete manuscript to seventy-five (75) potential agents and publishers. On July 11, 2024, I got my first interested publisher, on July 12th the second; the third on July 24th.  

THE EMAIL. On July 29, 2024, I got an email from Miranda at Koehler Books; we talked on July 31, 2024.  

THE OFFER. Koehler Books has offered me a hybrid/co-publishing contract for a June 2025 release of A Date With the Fairy Drag Queen

THE VETTING. The contract was reviewed by an attorney who found it to be "excellent," and "author-friendly." Kelly Justice, owner of Fountain Bookstore said they have a good working relationship with Koehler and have stocked their books on their shelves. Add to that my own "gut instinct" that this was the right fit.

THE DEADLINE: My soft deadline to sign the contract is August 10, 2024. The hard deadline is August 18, 2024.

THE ASK. As of August 7, 2024, I have received $2,691 in generous contributions. An additional $2,388 will help me realize my lifelong dream of being a published novelist. Please donate what you can. To donate click here.

THE ITEMIZATION. Your contributions will go toward: title preparation; front cover design; marketing program; line editing; text layout; copyedit and proofreading; soft cover and hardcover wrap; printing and distribution assistance for softcovers, hardcovers, a digital ARC (Advanced Readers Copy), and eBook prep and processing.

THE WISDOM: “It's hard enough to give fearlessly, and it's even harder to receive fearlessly. But within that exchange lies the hardest thing of all: To ask. Without shame. And to accept the help that people offer. Not to force them. Just to let them.” ― Amanda Palmer, quote from The Art of Asking; or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let People Help

THE WHERE. A Date With the Fairy Drag Queen will be available through Ingram to over 30,000 online and brick and mortar retailers for print and digital. You'll also be able to read it on your eReader.

THE WHEN. Expected release date for A Date With the Fairy Drag Queen is June 17, 2025.

THE STANDARDS. the Independent Book Publishers Association (IBPA) has set the criteria for the standards for independent and hybrid publishers:

1. Define a mission and vision for its publishing program.

2. Vet submissions.

3. Commit to truth and transparency in business practices.

4. Provide a negotiable easy-to-understand contract for each book published.

5. Publish under its own imprint(s) and ISBNs.

6. Publish to industry standards.

7. Ensure editorial, design, and production quality.

8. Pursue and manage a range of publishing rights.

9. Provide distribution services.

10. Demonstrate respectable sales.

11. Pay authors a higher-than-standard royalty.

Koehler Books meets all eleven (11) industry standards.

THE MODELS: Traditional. Self/Independent. Co/Hybrid. What's the difference?

Traditional Publishing House:

• Publishers assume financial risk up front, and authors receive an advance on that risk

• Publishers retain all royalties until the book's sales have recouped the advance

• Publishers keep a higher percent of the royalties; often retain the rights to the book.

• Publishers have more control over the final product (design, content, marketing.

• Best for established authors with name recognition, breakthrough success through a            traditional publishing house is rare

Self/Independent Publishing:

• Publishing without a traditional publishing house or company

• Authors pay all costs of the publishing process: editing, design, format, etc.

• Authors retain full creative control and ownership of the book rights.

• Authors have autonomy and higher royalty rates

• Little to no oversight of the quality of the finished project.

Hybrid/Co-Publishing:

• Authors share in the risk up front while receiving the same high-quality services

• Authors immediately earn royalties on publication

• Authors keep a higher percentage of royalties and often retain rights to the book

• Authors and publishers collaborate on editing, design, marketing, distribution

THE VANITY: Reputable hybrid publishers are NOT vanity presses. Vanity presses are a pay-to-publish scheme. They get no money from selling the books, so have no skin in the game about the finished product.

Doing Your Civic Duty. Why It Matters.

 Check out my article for my firm Setliff Law on my recent experience as jury forearm for a criminal trial......https://www.setlifflaw.com/doing-your-civic-duty-why-it.../

A Date With The Fairy Drag Queen - Synopsis

 

Saskia Nash has an idyllic childhood in Germany. Raised by her father (Jack Nash), and grandfather “Opa” (Otto Stein) after her mother dies in childbirth, Saskia’s world is filled with love, daffodils, constellations, magic circles, and the certainty that the only monsters are imaginary ones lurking under her bed.

When Jack announces they are moving to America, Saskia’s world comes crashing down. Torn from her grandfather, and thrust into a strange new place, Saskia is an outsider in a world where she soon learns some monsters aren’t imaginary. She’s learning a new language, exploring her faith and questioning her sexuality. She feels like a freak. Jack is consumed by his career at a small East Coast Jesuit college, Otto is far away, and Saskia doesn’t know where she belongs. 

Saskia is drawn to the progressive spirituality of the Jesuits. Most of her classmates are seminarians.  She doesn’t mean to fall in love with Allen. When she finds herself pregnant, Fr. H will go to great lengths to protect his star seminarian. Saskia is sent away to “recover” at an AIDS hospice where she is assigned as a companion to a dying drag queen. Ed begs Saskia to grant his one final wish-to resurrect Marlena Merlot for his last performance before he dances his way to The Fairy Drag Queen.

Alternating between early 1970s Germany and the East Coast of America in the early 90s, A Date With The Fairy Drag Queen is a story of chosen family, queer platonic love, and learning to live while letting go of the past.

Let's Stand Up!

The dynamic duo has struck again. Deejay Gray's daring vision, and Chelsea Burke's visionary direction bring to life the 1998 Pulitzer Prize winning How I learned to Drive by Paula Vogel. The innocuous title belies the gut punch of a story. 

I have long admired Gray's willingness to go where others fear to go. Over and over again she brings works that provoke, inspire, challenge, and move.  And I've long been a fan of Burke's inspired direction. How I Learned to Drive is this team at its best. 

Vogel's exceptional play tells the story of a young girl and the uncle who teaches her much more than just how to drive. It will resonate with all women who have been abused by an older authority figure and lived to tell the tale. For those who have had the good fortune to not experience such abuse, it illuminates just how insidiously and seamlessly a predator can assert his will and power over the people who trust him the most.  For all of us, it is a call to action. Inaction never benefits the victim.

Lil Bit (Juliana Caycedo) and her uncle Peck (Jeffrey Cole) have a special relationship. She relies on him for guidance, and he looks to her for the companionship and intimacy he lacks from his wife. And as often happens with young girls who are victims of predators, her family blames this inappropriate relationship on her feminine wiles, and fiery ways. 

Told through a series of driving lessons that take us from the present lesson - how to accelerate, for example- into reverse- a look at the history of the relationship from where it began, How I Learned to Drive is a surprisingly charming and funny look at a tragic family drama.

Caycedo and Cole shone in their respective roles, and the support characters portrayed by Bianca Bryan (female Greek chorus), Mahlon Raoufi (male Greek chorus) and the always hilarious Maggie Bavolack (teenage Greek chorus) brought very fine performances.

This was a tough show to watch. The slow-build of Uncle Peck's praying on Lil Bit made me cringe. Whether you have a "me too" story or not, this experience should leave you very uncomfortable. And that's good. We should squirm. We should be uncomfortable. We should never remain silent.

Richmond will not be the same when Deejay Gray leaves town. I have counted on Gray and TheatreLab for the kind of theatre that I am most drawn to - theatre that takes a stand, that pushes the envelope, that educates, and that touches our humanity.

I should note that How I Learned to Drive, like many shows in Richmond, received a standing ovation. However, this ovation was spontaneous and deserved rather than perfunctory. I believe we should be more stingy with our ovations, and do more standing up against injustice. I believe that's what TheatreLab has always been about.

There are two more opportunities for exceptional theatre before TheatreLab closes its doors and Gray takes flight for New York City. Augusta Wilson's Ma Rainey's Black Bottom directed by Katrinah Carol Lewis opens in April, and Lynn Nottage's Sweat directed by Gray themselves, opens in June.  Don't miss out. 

Richmond will be losing a landmark theatre, and an artistic director whose vision will leave an indelible mark on local theatre. 

Peccavi

Peccavi. Latin for I have sinned.

Peccavi. In my thoughts and in my words. In what I have done, and what I have failed to do. 

I am a racist. I want to qualify that with "but not intentionally," and "I'm not as bad as..." But it's important for me to acknowledge. I have said and done things that are racist without thinking. And I have failed to act. 

I have said of a person of color "they are so articulate." While I'd like to think I've also said that about a white person, I can't be certain. I have listened to people, even close friends, question a black person's intelligence or intentions and been silent.

Silence favors the oppressor. Never the oppressed.

The spring and summer of 2020 in Richmond, Virginia changed things. The Black Lives Matters protests turned the tables and toppled long-standing statues. They also exposed long-standing prejudice and hatred. I marched in some of those protests. I raised my fists and yelled "Black Lives Matters" until a black woman lovingly pointed out to me that perhaps it wasn't my fist to raise. Perhaps I should march alongside my black brothers and sisters and let them raise their fists, and shout their pain and anger. Perhaps I should march in silence and listen to their voices. 

Last week I saw The Niceties at Conciliation Lab and last night I saw Pipeline at November Theatre. I'm a critic, and it is my job to review-to turn a critical eye- on performances. I'm choosing not to do so now. I am choosing to lower my fist, to march in silence, and to learn. 

I am learning that while we all may share similar situations, our experiences are vastly different. 

When my youngest was twenty, I woke up to a call from my son. The police officer who pulled him over for excessive speed and sat him on the hood of his car and put him in handcuffs let him call my number over and over again until he reached me. I was shaken when I received that call. But I didn't live in fear of it on a daily basis. It never crossed my mind to fear that the officer might kill him. And in our privilege, my son who had been going 99 in a 65 zone, got to keep calling his mom until she picked up. And then he let my son come home to me. Scared and frightened of his mom's response, but not harmed. 

A few years ago I was at Starbucks when a man saw a sticker on my laptop- Let Bi Girls be Bi Girls- and exposed his bigotry and homophobia. "Evil," he whispered in my ear close enough so that his spittle wet my ears. "Your wicked thoughts and impure acts will land you in hell." He towered over me. I was seated in such a way  I couldn't get up. Yes, I was frightened and angry. But I could see the baristas watching what was happening. And knew they would step in before I was in any danger. 

I am a white person of privilege. I can display my activism with a sticker on my computer. And I can wear my orientation on my sleeve. But it is not my skin. I can tuck my computer away in a bag, and I can walk hand in hand with my husband and pass for straight.   

As a white person, I have seen myself reflected in almost every place I've walked into. My stories have been told for centuries. My skin color is reflected in history, and my triumphs have been celebrated. It's time for me to step back, to get out of my comfort zone, and to listen to the voices that speak truths that have never been, and will never be, mine. To take my white critical eye and turn it inward, while I take in and embrace and learn from the stories that are not mine to critique. 

It is not the job of people of color to entertain us or make us feel comfortable. Yes, theatre can entertain and comfort, but it ought to also provoke thought, and ask us to question long held beliefs. There have been difficult conversations in the Richmond theatre community over the past few weeks. It is my fervent hope that those of us in a position to do so can use these conversations to build bridges, and mend fences, and transform lives. In the end, aren't we all better off, isn't our community all the richer for the diverse viewpoints and experiences? Shouldn't we all feel that the arts reflect the full spectrum of humanity? 

I say yes. 

Please go see The Niceties and Pipeline. Support local theaters like The Conciliation Lab and Virginia Rep. Read the stories of Dominique Morriseu and Eleanor Burgess. Celebrate the strong and powerful work being done by directors of color like Dr. Tawnya Pettiford-Wates and Katrinah Carol Lewis. Uplift the performances of newcomers to the scene like  Mikayla LaShae Bartholomew and Trevor Lawson and seasoned performers like Debra Clinton and Todd Patterson. 

Peccavi. Please forgive me.

Even If We Suck At It

Pivotal moments call us to dig deeper, to draw on inner strength we may not even know we possess.  We throw ourselves into the fire knowing we may get burned. And we would do it over and over again. Because some moments call us to love fiercely. Even if we suck at it.

For Trisha Lee (Marie Lucas) that moment comes when the young, widowed mother is challenged by her daughter, Jolene, in ways that cause Trisha to question everything she knows to be true. Jolene, who sports all black clothing with pink hair, informs her mom that she isn't a girl. At least not all girl. She's also part boy. "Jo" is gender queer - a revelation that will upend everything in Trisha's life. 

Richmond Triangle Players returns to theatre with a sucker punch to the gut with The Pink Unicorn, brilliantly directed by Raja Benz who takes Eliser Forier Edie's play, a masterfully written piece of LGBTQIA activism,  and creates a moving, thought-provoking, hopeful and gorgeous work of art. 

Marie Lucas is breathtaking in her role as the grieving mom who takes on an entire town in order to advocate for her child whose coming out has lasting implications for the small Texas town.

Lucas is funny and poignant with a perfect range of emotion. Every step of the way I was rooting for the courageous mama bear learning how to best love her cub. Anything, including accepting  that the child she knew as a little girl with a pink unicorn, is their own person, with their own truth. 

Confronting the alphabet soup that is the LGBTQIA umbrella is daunting. Trisha vacillates from terrified and angry to bewildered and ultimately curious and accepting. We learn with Trisha as she educates herself in personal pronouns, gender identities, marginalization, advocacy, and humanity. 

                                                                Photo Credit: John MacLellan

Ms. Lucas wears overalls, her hair in braids and tied with a bandana. Around her waist is a tool belt with colored chalk she uses to fill in the chalkboard that provides the three walls of the set.  As she narrates Trisha's story, she creates a mural depicting a small town woman learning the world is just a bit bigger and more colorful than the neat and tidy box she's always known.  

In the end, all that matters is love. It's the bottom line.  In  protecting and loving Jo as fiercely as she can, Trisha takes on her bigoted church, her narrow-minded mother and becomes a reluctant champion of equal rights. Her love is messy. She gets things wrong. She sometimes "sucks" at it. Sometimes it's a snot-nosed, drunken weep fest at the local bar. Other times it is questioning a god who would take her husband, leaving her to navigate uncharted territory alone.

The lights, the sound, the costuming all enhance what is at its core a beautiful story of a woman learning to expand her worldview to see her child as they are.

The Pink Unicorn is a script I wish I'd written. In Benz's extraordinarily talented hands, with Lucas' gripping performance, The Pink Unicorn is one of the best shows I've seen in a very long time, from a theatre that is often known for light-hearted and fun musicals and cabaret fare. This is a serious piece that leaves no doubt that RTP isn't just about getting laughs, that they take seriously their mission to produce "transformational" theatre "rooted in LGBTQ+ experiences, and supporting and celebrating the development of queer artistry."

We are not called to be perfect. We are called to show up, to grow, to rise above our limited worldview. And we are called to love - imperfectly. 

Even if we suck at it.

They Came Back!

Yep. They came back indeed. 

Socially-distanced, and masked, a respectable crowd of theatre lovers attended VA Rep's first live production since the pandemic dimmed the lights more than a year ago. 

Ella and Her Fella Frank was a fitting choice for VA Rep's return. Light fare, familiar music, and two of the most beloved local actors - Scott Wichmann (Frank Sinatra) and Desiree Roots (Ella Fitzgerald). A dip your toes in the water kind of re-entry. Refreshing, not too deep, and fun. 

This juke box musical was first conceptualized in 1999 by the late Randy Strawderman. With his family in the audience and a dimming of the lights after the show, this memorial performance was a fitting tribute to a man who was an influential part of the Richmond theatre community. 

Written by Bo Wilson, and directed by Katrinah Carol Lewis, Ella and Her Fella Frank imagines the heavenly reunion of real-life friends Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra. 

Roots was resplendent as the legendary Fitzgerald, with truly knockout costuming. And Wichmann, long known for his portrayal of Sinatra, was handsome and charming. Every so often he would glance up to the balcony where his wife was sitting. My heart melted. 

Roots and Wichmann sang their hearts out with performances of favorites such as 'Lady and the Tramp,' 'Can't We Be Friends,' 'Cheek to Cheek,' and a scat-tastic "It Don't Mean a Thing.'

Unfortunately, the live band often, and in key moments, drowned out their sound. At times it seemed to be the battle of the saxophones rather than the duets of Ella and Frank. 

It was opening night, so hopefully the sound balance has been worked out. The show really does have the potential to be heavenly. 

The set was impressive. I loved the globe-shaped lights. The musicians were appropriately and safely spaced. Along with the nuanced lighting, we really did get the feel of being in an intimate night club. 

And there were several nods to the pandemic. Roots and Wichmann moved around the stage at an arm's length from each other - socially distanced dancing - and each time they tried to touch, there was an invisible shield that drove them apart. 

Near the end, they were finally able to embrace . . . life beginning to return to normal. 

As she enters the stage, a look of wonder on her face, Roots comments to band leader/pianist Larri Branch "they came back!" 

"Yep," was his signature reply. 

 And we did come back. And it felt momentous. There were more than a few tears. I cried a few of them. 

When Phil Whiteway addressed the audience and welcomed them back after the long hiatus, I got choked up. 

VA Rep's Ella and Her Fella Frank was just the right way to bring back the audience. Congratulations to the entire cast and crew for getting our feet wet after so long out of the water. 

Performances continue through September 12, 2021. For tickets click here.

Telling the Truth - Unusual Politics

"We're not going to have the America that we want until we elect leaders who are going to tell the truth - not most days, but every day." - Ann Richards

There's nothing "usual" about politics these days nor live theatre in the time of COVID. But there is some hope - for both - and it can be found at Firehouse Theatre in Holland Taylor's gem of a play, Ann.

The larger-than-life former Governor of Texas is channeled by Jaqueline Jones who transforms into Governor Richards before our eyes. Jones' trademark sense of humor and exceptional acting talent are on full display as she gives the audience a glimpse into the life of the boisterous, opinionated, and feminist advocate for the people.

                                                                    Photo by Bill Sigafoos

Ann Richards first came to national attention at the 1988 Democratic Convention and soon was well-known and beloved for her no-nonsense, truth-telling advocacy of the marginalized.  Ann takes the audience through Richards' unusual path from the local PTA, a failed marriage, and an alcohol problem, to her one-term governorship. A role which demonstrated to women from all walks of life and political viewpoints that there IS a place for women and it IS in higher office.

In addition to Jones' truly rich performance, kudos go out to the top notch production team. Billy Christopher Maupin's direction was seamless, and Todd Labelle's lighting was spot on (pun intended). Granted, she had a load of talent to work with, but Erica Hughes' did a phenomenal job as dialect coach. I watched the 1988 Democratic Convention, and I could sit back, close my eyes and believe I was hearing Governor Richards' voice. 

I enjoyed every minute of Ann. 

No, there isn't anything usual about politics or theatre these days, but art prevails and feeds our souls even during the worst of times. And Firehouse Theatre (and the entire production team and actors committed to a safe and meaningful experience) makes this possible with contactless performances limited to 2, 4, 6 or 8 (who do we appreciate? Firehouse!) audience members. And select performances are live-streamed (see below for the remaining performance schedule and ticketing information).

Firehouse Theatre's synopsis of Ann notes "one of Richards' most passionate beliefs was that democracy depended on everyone voting and actively participating in manifesting the ideals of equality and justice for all." 

Go Vote. Our lives and livelihoods hang in the balance.

Performance Schedule:

Fri, Oct 16  @ 7:30pm (capacity of 8)
*Sat, Oct 17 @ 7:30pm (capacity of 8)
Sun, Oct 18 @ 4pm (capacity of 8)
Fri, Oct 23  @ 7:30pm (capacity of 8)
Sat, Oct 24 @ 7:30pm (capacity of 8)
*Sun, Oct 25 @ 4pm (capacity of 8)
*live-streamed performances (capacities are for the performances at Firehouse, not the stream)

Tickets are available for the live performances at  https://www.signupgenius.com/go/9040c44a5a828a7ff2-ann for a suggested donation of $30 or pay what you will.

And to sign up for one of the two live streamed performance go to
https://forms.gle/dnmhhqXGcjXvs1BLA

I'd Sell My Soul

I first read The Picture of Dorian Gray in high school. It was the late eighties and I remember remarking how "relevant to the times" Oscar Wilde was and "don't we all have something we'd sell our soul for?" in an overly pretentious response to my favorite teacher Mrs. Cappellucci's "What do you like about this book?"

Reading Dorian made me feel smart, and grown up. Sophisticated. On each reading I'd pick up something new. An insight into my own character, perhaps, or a quote I'd write in my journal to ponder.

So I wasn't sure I wanted to see a stage version of one of my favorites. Firehouse Theatre often brings bold theatre, but would I get anything out of seeing my beloved novel come to life? Would it meet my teenage-romantic expectations? Would it have the same impact?

In a word, YES! The first, and by far the best reason to see it? Billy Christopher Maupin is simply superb. So deftly did he embody each character that the transitions from one to the next were seamless. I felt as though Maupin had read my diaries. His Henry, was the Henry I picture. And so with Basil, and Dorian. Maupin is such a skilled actor that each of the dozen or so characters was a creation unto its own, sometimes with just a subtle change in the timbre of his voice, or the placement of his hands. 

                                                     

                Photo Credit: Tom Topinka

The second reason? For that I have to go back to the first week in March, and the last live play I saw. I never could have guessed, leaving the theatre that night, that it would be the last opportunity to do something "normal" for some time. And I never would have guessed that four months later, the definition of theatre would have to change. 

How the audience experience was executed due to the Covid-19 pandemic is almost as profound as the acting. The three masked audience members - yes, just three- were greeted at the door at 6-foot length with a thermometer check, and an assigned number. I had number 3, so I had to immediately go and wash my hands in the upstairs bathroom. The other guests, 1 and 2, avoided the climb and got the nice new downstairs bathrooms. Our seats were rows apart. The only non-masked person was Maupin, and what a metaphor that was for the interpretation of Dorian Gray.

 Usually, there is at least some crinkling wrapping paper, an untimely laugh or cough. Some audience noise that reminds me that this is live theatre. Instead, this experience felt so intimate. And the lack of audience feedback noise meant that I heard every word, and every sound. Would I have noticed Scott Burton's use of crickets for sound backdrop? I'm not so sure I would have. But really hearing all the sounds added a dimension that took my viewing experience to a new level.  And not just Burton, but the entire production team deserves a shout out.                                                  

The 19th-century gothic novel was adapted for the stage by Shirley Kagan and Billy Christopher Maupin. Ms. Kagan also directed the adaptation for the world premier at Firehouse Theatre. Dorian continues through August 7, 2020 at Firehouse Theatre.
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While I know that most of us would sell our souls to have these uneasy and frightening times behind us, I think I'd sell my soul to see Maupin bring Dorian Gray to life for the first time again.​

Mounting the Rostrum

"Women have the right to mount the scaffold; they should likewise have the right to mount the rostrum." - Olympe de Gouges

And mount the rostrum they do. 

Four of the most badass women in Richmond - all at the top of their craft - come together under the direction of a fifth badass woman - and have our full attention. 

Laura Grunderson's play The Revolutionists is a comi-tragedy about four women revolutionaries set during the French Revolution's Reign of Terror, a time of mass hysteria and public executions. 

The Revolutionists is based on four actual historical figures: playwright Olympe de Gouges, political assassin Charlotte Corday, Marie Antoinette, and the face of the French Revolution herself - Marianne (known as Marianne Angell in the play) - whose image lives on today in statues, coins and stamps. 


As the play opens, Olympe de Gouges (Maggie Roop) faces her own beheading and imagines writing a play with a different outcome. De Gouges is an intellectual force in her own right and threatens the monarchy. 

As she sets about rewriting her own story, she is called upon by political assassin Charlotte Corday ( Lydia Hynes)- who has fatally stabbed Marat in his bathtub - to write Charlotte's final words before facing her executioner. 

Marianne Angell (Katrinah Carol Lewis) comes to De Gouges for pamphlets in support of her cause of abolishing slavery in the Caribbean colonies. 

And Marie Antoinette (Maggie Bavolack) just wants a more favorable telling. 

The Revolutionists is a play-within-a-play. A *meta* play about art and theatre and power. Grunderson's script sometimes feels more concerned with the meta than the immediate. It tends towards the intellectual. However, this dynamic ensemble of extraordinary women under Chelsea Burke's adroit direction give it all the heart and soul to elevate the play to something fierce and powerful.

Photo Credit: Tom Topinka 

Though the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror are more than two hundred years past, the play is more than relevant to the 21st century. 

In just the last week, women are mourning the dissolution of Elizabeth Warren's campaign for president. She may have mounted the rostrum, but a woman still has yet to lead the helm. 

TheatreLAB's The Revolutionists is a call for the women revolutionaries of our time to stay the course. Our stories are powerful, after all, and we will no longer let them be rewritten by the patriarchy. 

The Revolutionists continues at TheatreLAB's The Basement through March 21. For tickets click here. 

Theatre As Therapy

It is 3 a.m. and insomnia has reared its ugly head. Wouldn't it be more romantic to say the muse has struck and she calls me to write? Yes, but it wouldn't be the whole truth. Mental Illness Awareness Month isn't until May. But I'm aware of my own mental illness every month. And most days.

As an extroverted introvert who suffers from social anxiety and depression, my mental illness can be a little perplexing. I really *do* want to get together for coffee. And I also cancel a lot because I'm so tired - mentally, physically, and spiritually, that sometimes getting out of bed requires more energy than I can muster. I walk a fine line between soul-replenishing long naps all about self-care, and avoidance naps . . . sleeping to escape the anxiety of being social when my brain chemistry is out of whack.

I take Prozac and Busbar. I go to therapy. All necessary to  ensure I can remain a responsible, functioning adult. That I can get up and go to work, feed the dog, love my husband, and be present for my adult children on those occasions they still need me.

My therapist practices Cognitive Behavioral Therapy techniques.  My favorite is the grounding chair. And my favorite seat is the one that puts me in the middle of an audience excited to see the latest production.

And so I go to the theatre. As a member of the Richmond Theatre Critics Circle, that's my *job.* But it is also my therapy.

I am not a doctor and so this is not medical advice, but I prescribe the following:

Quill Theatre's Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead closes soon, but there's still time to see Tom Stoppard's award-winning play. Influenced by Beckett's Waiting for Godot and using text directly from Shakespeare's Hamlet, this play is a love affair to the tragicomedy, and wordplay. It is the story of two minor Hamlet characters - Rosencrantz and Guildenstern - who are dead- and turns them into the bumbling lead actors in their own melodrama wondering why in the world they are not part of the play that is being staged all around them.

Quill's production is brilliantly directed by James Ricks. I was utterly mesmerized by the interplay between Tyler Stevens (Rosencrantz) and Adam Turck (Guildenstern). Joe Pabst is resplendent as the Player King with his stellar cast of Tragedians (Cedar Curran, Joel Kimling and Josh Mullins). The *minor* characters in Stoppard's play are Hamlet (Joel White), Ophelia (Mia Richards), Claudius (Travis Williams), Gertrude (Donna Marie Miller) and Polonius (Bill Blair). All give exceptional performances.

Theatre is better than Prozac.

And it is not too late to pick up your prescription.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead runs through February 16 at Dominion Energy Center. For tickets click here.