NaPlWriMo

(Rhinoceros, Gregory MacAvoy)

It's March 1 (unbelieveably) and we're going to forge ahead into rewrites. Yes, I've been strangely absent since November. Let's think of it as a period of hibernation. I've needed a lot of hibernation this winter for whatever reason.

But I realize it's time to get moving again and I'm thinking that a rewriting month will be a good way to ease back into action. With that in mind, I'm asking you to join me. If you want to continue to work on your script from the last Naplwrimo challenge, that's fine - either continue writing it or dive into a rewrite (whatever works for you).

My plan is to do a couple of blog posts each week and keep a daily conversation & check-ins going on our Facebook page and on Twitter (@naplwrimo). Why am I doing it this way? It's just more manageable for me right now.

I'm still looking for someone to update our website. I'm going to double down on my search and set a goal to find someone this month. Thank you for your patience - I want to get the site working correctly so we can move forward with a little more stabilty and sustainability. More on that later.

In the meantime, please join me this month and let's hammer out a rewrite. The rules are pretty simple: got a play? need to rewrite it? This is your month. It's pretty low-key. I'm going to experiment with some different ways to think about structure and will share some exercises with you and please feel free to share your insights and any exercises that you want to try or that have proved useful for you.

Cheers y'all.

Elizabeth

Dear Rhinos, Remember me? I'm the crazy one who created Naplwrimo because I wanted to write a play, not a novel-though I thought Nanowrimo was a very cool idea. Two years ago I stepped back from running things around here and Elizabeth and Toni stepped up, because they didn't want the project to end. So here we are and I'm so happy to see so many of you here, writing plays. Though I'm not writing plays much these days, I still write daily. This morning, the gods of writing made me write this and it occured to me that it might be of inspiration to you as you finish up Naplwrimo. So... here is to you and to the 75 pages you can surely write by Midnight tomorrow. I won't wish you luck because you know that's got nothing to do with it.

Write

Write until the ancient ruins no longer crumble at your tears.

Write until there are no words left.

Write because you have nothing else.

Write because you could be doing everything else.

Write with your fists in your mouth.

Write until you finish the coffee.

Write until the clock says 12.

Write until the bird outside lands on the feeder.

Write until the kids wake up.

Write until the phone rings.

Write because most days you don’t.

Write because most days you won’t.

Write because it’s sexy.

Write because you’re bothered.

Write because you said you would.

Write because you haven’t used up all the words yet.

Write because someone who loves you told you to.

Write because you love yourself. Write for hatred.

Write for pain.

Write for joy and peace and all the goddamn clichés.

Write to occupy yourself.

Write while eating leftovers.

Write when the coke machine is broken.

Write when it’s too cold to run.

Write when it’s too warm to sleep.

Write because it’s not your turn to change the diaper.

Write because your grandmother would have wanted you to.

Write for freedom and power and all the bloodshed.

Write for revolution.

Write for the fish and the butterflies and the wolves.

Write so you can meet everybody. Write so you can fall in love.

Write so you can wear a cape.

Write so you can hang out in the North Pole.

Write so you can lose the map.

Write so you become the river.

Write to your heart’s desire.

Write so you are not alone.

Write to repair broken bones,

Write like you’d punch a wall,

Write to stop the nausea.

Write in charcoal,

Write in blood,

Write like the clouds that make shape,

Write double rainbow all the way.

Write avocado, margarita and pamplemousse.

Write like the clouds that make shapes,

Write like a dreamcatcher,

Write like a Rorschach Test,

Write like an encyclopedia.

Write like an African folk tale.

Write like an Irish drum,

Write like a Passion Play.

Write like Toni Kushner,

Write like Toni Morrison,

Write like Bad Religion.

Write like the Great Wall of China.

Write like the Space Needle,

Write like the Eiffel Tower.

Write like a cancer,

Like a fallen tree,

Like burnt metal,

Like soft steel.

Write on Satsuma peels, hospitals floors, chicken wire and subway stations.

Write with a clown nose on,

Write in hiking boots,

Write wearing nothing but a hat.

Write like a pregnant lady,

Write in a tiny book,

Write on the breasts of babes,

Write even when you’re wrong.

Write with the TV on,

Write to infinity,

Write to remember your dreams,

Write to ignore the future.

Write to forget the now,

Write to be more mindful.

Write to listen more,

Write to pray for sick,

Write to blame the rich,

Write to stop preaching,

Write to avoid politics,

Write to chew on this,

Write because it’s right.

Write so you can,

Because you can

And you always could. Write.

Our final Rhino Burst comes from Marisela Treviño Orta. I met Marisela over the summer, but have enjoyed reading her blog posts for awhile. I'm inspired by her work ethic (she has admirable & stellar work habits) and her enthusiasm for theater and playwrighting is contagious.

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This is it. Cue Chariots of Fire.

Ya know, the thing about the Chariots of Fire theme song is even though it conjures up this image of crossing the finish line, it’s in slow motion. At least that’s how I imagine it.

And I imagine there are plenty of playwrights out there trying to finish their plays in these last days of November who feel so close yet so far away from their own finish lines. You may be fighting to get there inch by inch, or rather, line by line. Or, if we continue with this running analogy, you’ve hit the wall and find yourself praying for endorphins to kick in and carry you on a wave of euphoria over the finish line.

I have to say, writing-related endorphins have only kicked in AFTER I’ve accomplished something, after I’ve had a breakthrough. But getting that breakthrough, accomplishing what I once thought was almost impossible doesn’t always come easy. In fact, it usually is never easy. That’s the real work of a writer: to make it past those doldrums, to solve the problems we’ve created for our characters (and ourselves) and to finish what we’ve started.

Now, while I am not currently participating in this month-long exercise (I have a good reason: I’m working on two plays with deadlines that hold me accountable to two different theatres), I know what you are going through dear playwright. You see, one of the plays I’m working on I had to write in a much shorter span of time than I’m accustomed to. Technically I had all summer, but other writing projects and…well, procrastination whittled down that time frame to one month.

Yowzers.

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: there’s nothing like impending doom, I mean, a deadline to get you to write.

Now, you need to know that usually I take my time when writing the first draft of a play. I mean months. Months! But this past August I had no choice but to write the first draft of a play so that I could take it to a September retreat where I would share it with my peers.

Yowzers indeed.

I remember the home stretch of that play. I had a gaping hole in the narrative near the end. You see, I tend not to write linearly, so I already had my ending written. But like I said, there was a gaping hole in the shape of a blank white page staring back at me from my laptop.

It was Chariots of Fire time and I was running in place. I didn’t feel ready. Not ready to finish the play, to write the penultimate scenes that would fill that gap in the narrative. This was unfamiliar territory for me. Like I said before I usually take my time to write a play so this shortened time frame was forcing me to write.

I had to tell myself: just finish. Just write. The ideas are there, even if they are kind of fuzzy.

I had to tell myself to remember that this is just the first draft. It doesn’t have to be perfect. In fact, it can be imperfect. It can bring up questions. It can leave you wanting more. Because the truth is I would have the next six months to keep working on the play, to flesh out the scenes, do rewrites, edits, etc. And you dear playwright will have more time with your play. There will be second and third and possibly more (several if you’re like me) drafts of your play that you can continue to refine or rewrite however you choose.

But keep in mind that this month’s challenge is not just about getting you to write a new play. It’s about challenging yourself as a writer, about pushing yourself beyond your own writing limits.

Why?

Because it’s when we’re challenged that we grow, that we are forced to develop. And in the end this experience will provide you with a frame of reference so that in the future when you find yourself faced with a writing challenge that seems impossible, that requires you to venture into new writing territory, you can look back on this past November and recall how you raced against time, against writer’s block, against the odds and crossed that finish line.

And remember, whether you cross it at a full sprint or at a crawl the important thing is: you finished.

Best of luck!

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Marisela Treviño Orta is a San Franciscan poet and playwright. Her first play, Braided Sorrow, won the 2006 Chicano/Latino Literary Prize in Drama and the 2009 Pen Center USA Literary Award in Drama. Her other plays include: American Triage, Heart Shaped Nebula, The River Bride, Wolf at the Door and Woman on Fire. Marisela also writes a literary blog: Variations on a Theme (http://www.xanga.com/mtorta). Follow her on Twitter at Twitter.com/MariselaTOrta.