SAVING LONESOME GEORGE has a cast of four:
JESS: a boy who, except for his squirrel, Charlie, is alone in the world
H.D.: a cool kid, who loves his wheelies and is expert at the art of hacky sack
HYACINTH MACAW: a bird-like woman of great beauty, flickering intellect and penetrating vision/MAD ESMERELDA BRILLIANT: the villain. A pirate with warm feelings for her Cumbrian red squirrel, Fancy Frank, but no respect for endangered species. – these roles are played by the same actor, a fact that fascinates our young audiences.
SWEET SOLOMON BUNCH: a pirate in the wrong profession
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I’ve lost sight of the number of workshops our play has received. I think 8 is probably a fair guess.
Perhaps because I’m a writer, I’ve always believed workshops are intended to
help writers tighten and strengthen the script. Others may have different ideas, but this is my blog.
Here’s what happens in a workshop. The director, the actors and the writer sit around a table. Each of us has a script. Sometimes the director will ask the writer if there are particular concerns or questions she might like to have addressed after the reading. Sometimes we just barrel on in. The actors read through the script without interruption. Everyone makes notes. We take a break and then the director describes the form the workshop will take. Some directors prefer to have the actors phrase all thoughts about their characters in the form of a question: (“I wonder what Mad Esmerelda Brilliant’s attachment to her squirrel reveals about her sexuality?”) Sometimes actors are simply asked to raise their own questions or concerns about their characters.
I am making this process sound incredibly dry and tedious. It is anything but. A good workshop is filled with tension and laughter. The actors build on one another’s comments; they reject possibilities or are ignited by them. They tell dirty jokes, and because they’re actors, they tell them well. They try out dialects and increasingly wilder readings of lines. Then when the entire workshop threatens to float away like a bunch of wayward balloons, the director asks questions designed to give the writer control over all these new and shining possibilities.
Accepting my premise that there have been 8 workshops for “Saving Lonesome George”, 32 actors have brought their ideas to these characters. Two directors have helped shape the script but only my name appears will appear as the playwright. I’ve never felt this was quite fair. And so, as Carousel’s “Saving Lonesome George” prepares for its maiden voyage, I thought I’d set the record straight, and acknowledge the talent, wisdom and generosity of all the theatre people who have contributed to the script.
The script, of course, is just the beginning. There are designers of costumes and sets and lighting; stage managers and prop managers. People who turn on the lights and turn them off. People who make arrangement for venues. People who create the study guides that help teachers use theatre for young audience as a starting point for further learning. People who keep all of us running on time.
Theatre is a journey. Those four words have become a cliché, but they are the truth. At the end of any journey, we are changed by what we have seen and by what we have learned from our travelling companions. This is just to say, I’m grateful to mine.