Not so special after all.

Recently I visited my family in Oklahoma. We didn't grow up there but my brother-in-law was stationed at Fort Sill my sister set roots there, raised children there, and my mother soon followed. That's how I have family in Oklahoma.
I've been to visit a few times over the past couple of decades. Previously they took me to the Apache Prisoner's Of War cemetery where Geronimo is buried. I saw his burial marker and those related or connected to him by tribe. Families are buried next to relatives and who a person was and who they were connected to is etched into the tombstone. For example: Thomas Dah-Ke-Ya was an Apache, son of Dah-Ke-Ya and Lulu Geronimo, 1890, 1908.
Here's another example with Zi-Yeh, wife of Geronimo.

They have a connection to others. In return, they are connected.
But I also saw several lone headstones. They stood isolated, far from the neat rows of family markers where father and mother lay next to children and their spouses. Singular headstones. The one that got my attention on my first visit was Francisco's. An Apache Woman, 1847, 1901.

My immediate thought was, who is the woman? Why is she here, isolated from the other Apache and their families? Was she an outcast? Was she unknown?
I glommed onto that last idea: was she unknown. That's because I am fixated on the fact that one day I will no longer exist. People try to tell me that I'll live on in my daughter's genes, in my writing, the memories of my friends and family. That's small comfort but it does seep into my writing.
I have thought about the idea of a character's permanence being dependent on being remembered. The more they are remembered, the more substantial their "ghost" is. And as the memories fade, so do they. But if they are remembered again, they once again gain substance. An interesting premise but one that I find some comfort in. In that even though I'll be nothing, I won't be forgotten. For a while, anyway.
So, great, I'm thinking of Francisco the Apache woman and my thinking of her gives her substance. I'm the bearer of a small torch for an unknown woman.
Then I get the glorious idea to Google her. Ah, vanity, they name is Earl. There's a decent amount of information about her at Wikitree.
She doesn't need me, she's been enshrined on the world wide web. Which is a healthy reminder that none of us (I'm looking at you, mirror) are really so special after all.

There was another singular tombstone for an Apache named John Smith. I've just included him to add a little substantiation to him as well.

Are we breaking rules or just changing out parts?

Last night at FogCon 5 I at through a conversation about breaking rules in story telling. The blurb in the conference guide suggested that the talk would be about characters not following their stereotypes. That seemed like a good idea. And there were several attempts to touch on the subject. Heck, maybe there were more but I just tuned out after hearing the word "hetero-normative" one too many times.
Yes, I'm a white, middle aged, heterosexual male, but that doesn't mean I don't care about people who don't fit in the same pigeon hole with me. Because I do. But when the discussion stays fixated on the idea that writing about transgender people or "non-tragic lesbians" in the same roles as a heterosexual male would have been in, are you really breaking rules? Personally, I don't think you are. You might be leveling the playing field, but you aren't breaking new ground. Especially if all you're doing is preaching to the choir.
A good attempt at explaining the breaking of the storytelling rule was the idea of "Flowers For Algernon." However, the story has been told before in H. G. Wells's "The Invisible Man." Both are the same story of humanities distrust and fear off those who are different. What is different is the kind of character in the same situation: you're not like us, we can't determine your motivations so you are a that to use, we will isolate you. No rules broken here, please move along. And there are probably older and newer stories that are the same, just different characters.
So whether the character is Anglo Saxon hetero, or green scaled poly sexual, doesn't matter if they are the captain of the research vessel Beagle, they're still just the captain. Nothing's changed in the story, only a part has been replaced for another part. Same rules, just different characters.
I admire those who write non-traditional characters into their stories. I think it's important that we see that the role can be played by anyone and the job still gets done. I think that's called "normalizing," making things that seem untraditional traditional. Whatever you call, it the point remains the same, the song remains the same, the story hasn't changed, only the parts have been replaced.
Rules haven't been broken.
All of which doesn't mean the conversation wasn't interest or thought provoking, it probably just needed a more relevant title. Like: If Kirk had been gay, would the universe have turned out differently? That'd be an interesting conversation.

Goals. Sheesh, goals.

Well, it's been almost two weeks since I last made an entry on this lonely island of a blog.
I'm not done with the play. I've been sidetracked several times. I allowed them to slow me down. The question is probably why did I let them slow me down? I know - I'm pretty sure I know - that the main reason is that I'm unsure of some parts of the play and that the length of the first act is coming in short. I shouldn't let that bother me. I know that whatever I write will need some rewriting, if not completely rewritten. That's no longer a bad thing for me. Once it's down, I have a better idea where I really want to go, the themes of the play will have asserted themselves somewhere and now need to be incorporated through the whole play. Despite all that I am still allowing my doubts to freeze my forward motion.
Also, there is the stops and starts. I stopped to work on two short plays. I stopped to work on some book stuff for a friend's book. Then I started working on the play again. But the energy had been sapped, the way had become less clear. I've had to read everything written so far to find the thread and then continue hesitantly like Hansel and Gretel trying to find the crumbs to lead them back home.
However, I am not going to stop at the end of the month, the goal was to complete a full-length play. So even though it'll carry over into February, and I have things to be doing in February, it'll now include finishing this play.

Treading water in a current.

So, short post. I worked on Ms Tittle's today. I hadn't the past few days, partially because I'd stopped to work on two 10-minute plays that I needed to (1) turn in, and (2) bring to a playwright scene night. The problem I have found is that when I stop moving on a piece, I often never get back to it. I didn't want that to happen here, but it was. So, this morning I did manage to work on stuff. I wrote seven pages but it probably didn't increase the play page count. That's because I went back and started reworking the last third of Act I. It didn't feel good as it was and that was bugging me. I was aware that part of my stalling had to do with my not being comfortable with how that section was bending the play. I needed the play to do something else. With that in mind, I spent the morning writing lines from scratch. Now I have to go and weave it into the rest of the act and see how it blends.
So, I may have not gotten anywhere, but I was creating new material.

No dialogue to share, no picture to post. How about a joke?

Q: What did one snowman say to the other?
A: Do you smell carrots?

:D

Whittling a peg to fit a different shaped hole.

Or, how I don't like writing plays to satisfy someone else's expectations.

I'm not working on Ms Tittle's today or tomorrow. Tomorrow I have to rewrite a ten-minute play because I am finally - finally! - getting a chance to attend a scene night with PCSF. It's been months, I think, since I've had the opportunity. But that's not what I'm grousing about.
The play I've been working on today, and will finish tomorrow - cause it's due tomorrow - is a play that I volunteered to write and it has to fit specific criteria. It's a play about a Cheyenne woman from the 1870s who fights along the male warriors to defeat General Crook and save her brother from certain death. That's my choice, it just had to be about a woman, for the 365 Women A Year Project.
There are much worse restrictions for play opportunities. "You must mention the word, Albatross." or "There must be a teapot in the play." or "This opportunity is only open to six foot tall New Englanders with one or more body piercings and owns a shrubbery." The last one is, I hope you see, an exaggeration, and also off topic because it's another annoying restriction. No, the real issue that makes me gnash my teeth is "theme-ing" the play contest/festival. I don't know about other playwrights, but I'm not inclined to stop what I'm doing to write a new play, to fit some specifics that someone else generated, that may not be chosen for the production and just might, in many cases, be completely unsuitable for any other opportunity, thus rendering the play useless.
I also feel that really good playwrights and really good plays aren't looked at, and - I may be wrong on this - the quality of the submitted plays may be collectively less than if there'd been no restrictions on what subject the play can be about.
And, of course, it's not always a terrible inconvenience to my arrogant playwright Id. Asking for plays that focus on a general theme of death, or LGBT issues, or - as I mentioned being involved in above - women's history. Working on this play for 365 Women hasn't been a burden, nor a real issue - except that I wish there'd been more history to pull upon for Buffalo Calf Road and more depth of Cheyenne folk tales and mythology. What it did to was remind me of all these other opportunities where they are so specific I wonder if the person in charge is a failed playwright purposefully torturing other playwrights as a balm to their own pain.
Really, the only reason I'd ever want to write a play that centered around a garden trowel is if I came up with the idea on my own to help tell a story I already wanted to tell.
But I'm grousing. :)

Rough cuts can be sanded and shaped.

That'd be a wood working metaphor. I like making things with wood, but I'm not the steadiest of hand. So often I'll just hack close to the line and then come back and trim the excess, sand down to the line, stuff like that. I'm mostly thinking of curves, like when I made my daughter a rocking horse. This play has me feeling the same way.
All but one of my other first draft plays have 3 or 4 actor requirements. Ninguna Verdad has five. Ms Tittle's House for Retired Circus and Sideshow Folk has nine. There are so many balls in the air as I write. Have I gotten Ameerah the stage time she needs? Who'd I forget in the last twenty pages? How's the story line between Howard and Maybelle developing? Have I lost that thread? Then, I've also written from the front of Act I, the back of Act II, and now the front of Act II.
I can see the rough areas. I have an idea of what needs to be fine tuned or trimmed away. But right now I need to get the whole thing done, even if it's ragged around some of the more complicated curves.
So far there are 37 pages of Act I written, and 21 pages of Act II. I'm not yet half way to the end of the month and I'm a few pages over halfway to the end of the first draft.
In other news, I read over Dr. Edgar's Brains last night and this morning. This is the play that will get a developmental table ready in February. As it stands, it needs a little light sanding to remove the spelling errors and word choice errors. There's some reworking that I know will come up. It's not the first draft by far, but it's also rarely been shared. It's going to be quite a learning experience to sit there and listen and then discuss a whole full-length play with just actors and a dramaturg. Their points of view will be different from a room full of playwrights who "wouldn't have written it that way."
Here's some of today's work on Ms Tittle's:

-----

 FEUR

Hey, James. Been here all day?

JAMES

(Checking the time.)

Hm. Seems like most of it. Time flies.

FEUR

Even if you're not having fun. Speaking of which, I'm sorry about earlier. I guess we've been pushing too much.

JAMES

You have. But I appreciate the sentiment. I get that you are all doing it because you care.

FEUR

Yeah, none of us have anything like a son or daughter out there. Except for Howard and Maybelle who have parents still asking after them, the rest of us seem to be on our own.

JAMES

Age has that affect. As does living an isolated life. But I haven't minded it. You have.

FEUR

I didn't think I did, but yeah, a little bit. Remember, we traveled all the time. A week here, a week there. Sometimes coming in late at night, rain and darkness, pulling the tent up more by feel than sight. The long days on the sideshow. I'd stink of soot and alcohol by the end of the day.

JAMES

That's what you miss?

FEUR

No, I miss the change. No audience was the same, despite being the same. Knowing in another week we'd be somewhere else. For the last twenty years we've been here. Just here. Hell, we haven't gone anywhere.

JAMES

No one's stopped you.

FEUR

I know. And I wonder about that, too.

JAMES

(Going to side bar.)

How's the food taste?

FEUR

SH! She'll be here in a few minutes.

JAMES

Relax, I was just asking. I asked before, too, if you remember.

FEUR

Sorry, yeah. I remember. I've also just learned that I've been over salting things for decades. It's a wonder I don't have high blood pressure.

JAMES

You have to tell her soon, she's going to figure it out.

FEUR

I know.

JAMES

Ameerah might tell her, just to spite you.

FEUR

She doesn't know. Does she?

JAMES

She has the sight.

FEUR

Oh, thpht!

BARBA

(Entering)

Sounds like you two are having another mature conversation.

JAMES

Are not.

FEUR

Are, too.

JAMES

Are not.

BARBA

Please, do stop. Oh, a lovely casserole. Very nice. Good flavors. Like it, Feur?

FEUR

(Slightly panicked but quickly recovered.)

What? How – how would I know. Can't taste anything. Decent texture. As always.

JAMES

I think it tastes good.

BARBA

Thank you James. So have we decided what to do?

FEUR

Part time jobs? Is that still on the table?

JAMES

Feur wants a part time job as an airline flight attendant.

BARBA

What?

FEUR

I do not.

BARBA

Ah, this is about the moving around thing again. I thought so. I've been seeing the signs again.

JAMES

Travel brochures?

BARBA

Hidden under his mattress, like a naughty boy.

FEUR
How'd you know that?

BARBA

You need to tuck them all the way under, unless you want them seen. Back to the ideas? There's plenty of part time jobs in town. I could work as a hostess at a restaurant. If they'd hire me.

-----

Still chugging along.

Didn't see that coming.

Today, my daughter has been sick. Despite that, I managed to pull four more pages together.
I shifted to be beginning of Act II today and have begun to approach the lottery scene from that direction. I feel a bit like I'm laying tile and when I'm done writing the scenes I'll have to go back and add the grout, the little bit that connects the tiles to each other. Well, not really, but the idea kind of works.
Also got a surprise email today. RonWeaver, over at PlayCafe, has been working on a play development program where playwrights can get their play of any length read by actors and then get feedback from the actors, a director, and a dramaturg. I'd put my name in the hat, thinking that one day I might get picked.
Today's email was to let me know that I'll be the inaugural play/playwright for the new venture. Exciting and disconcerting at the same time. I know I'm not sitting before judges, but I still always feel like I'm being judged.
It's going to be a great opportunity and I'll have to keep myself - the only person who reads this - updated on how the process goes.
In the mean time, here's my cats:

If this were reddit, I'd get at least one upvote. :)

Sometimes you just have to play hard to get.

Today's tally is eleven pages.
Several pages were written in my notebook from the other day, but I hadn't counted them before, so it's fair. I hope.
The eleven pages I wrote today come at the end of Act II. This is not a normal procedure for me. When I get stuck on a piece I will often mull over it for days. As the goal is to finish the play before the end of the month, I knew I couldn't afford to use my time just thinking. I needed to be active as well. Active in the sense that I'm putting words on paper, not just thinking about the.
With that in mind, I started working on the ending of the play. I knew, roughly, how it was supposed to go. Yesterday I did a quick outline and today I did a more detailed outline. Then I changed the ending from a Pollyanna kind of ending - where they win the lottery - to one more painful - where they don't win the lottery - and must decide to work together, make sacrifices, and pull through as a family. So no deus ex machina saving the play at the end. I wrote the scene after that, where James calls Jim on the phone to solicit and receive help first. That's sort of the end of the play. Then I wrote the lottery scene. I'm working my way backwards.
Here's the point: while I was working on all that, I solved some of the problems keeping me from working on the first act. I had consciously ignored it, it got jealous, and hit on my through my sub-conscious. Now I have more details for the play and it seems to be rolling along even better.
That doesn't mean I'm going to have a stage ready play by the end of the month, but it does mean I'll have a play. Hopefully a play worth working on. Time will tell.
Here's the lottery:

-----

AMEERAH

(Entering.)

It's time for the numbers.

(She's fiddling with a tiny radio. We hear static.)

Now you'll see. You will all see. Ameerah still has the sight.

(She sets down her pad of paper and adjust the tiny radio until we hear the lottery voice.)

HOWARD

(Running around passing out lottery tickets.)

Please, everyone, help out. I can't read them all by myself.

(Sterk enters.)

Excellent timing, Sterk, you get one, too.

STERK

What? Oh, a lottery ticket?

HOWARD

For the house. Listen for the numbers.

AMEERAH

Quiet!

(Everyone hushes and listens.)

LOTTERY

Good evening, everyone. It's time for tonight's lottery numbers.

HOWARD

Here we go.

AMEERAH & MAYBELLE

Sh!

LOTTERY

Our first number is... 43.

AMEERAH & JAMES

I got that one.

LOTTERY

The second number... 30.

AMEERAH & MAYBELLE

Oh, got it!

LOTTERY

And the third number... 32.

AMEERAH & BARBA

Yep, thirty-two!

LOTTERY

Next.... the fourth number is 44.

AMEERAH, HOWARD, JAMES, & FEUR

Got it!

LOTTERY

The fifth number.... is 53.

AMEERAH & BARBA

Check.

LOTTERY

Now for our powerball number... Sixteen!

AMEERAH, STERK & MAYBELLE

Yes!

AMEERAH

I did it! I told you I would do it! We are millionaires. What do you say now, Feur?

(Long pause as she sees crestfallen faces.)

What? You are envious, I do not blame you. But the money is for the house. I have no need for it all.

BARBA

Ameerah?

AMEERAH

Yes? What is it? You are not happy all of you? Is it too much money?

JAMES

There is no money. None of the tickets had all of the numbers.

AMEERAH

But I heard you all saying the numbers I had picked.

MAYBELLE

Howard? You need to tell her.

AMEERAH

(Suspicious.)

Tell me what? You didn't cheat me? Cheat the house?

HOWARD

No, ma'am. What happened was that I mixed up the papers. I still had the ones from the last couple of months. I didn't know which one was which, so I bought all of the sets of numbers. I... I don't understand how I didn't buy the numbers that were picked for today.

AMEERAH

If you were unsure, why did you not come ask me?

MAYBELLE

I told him, to.

HOWARD

I was afraid you'd be angry with me.

AMEERAH

And how do you think I feel now?

JAMES

You checked your pockets?

HOWARD

How dense do you think I am, Mr. Rutherford?

(Pulls numbers out of right pocket.)

When I am done buying the numbers I put them in my right pocket.

(Sticks hand in left pocket.)

When Ms Ameerah gives me the numbers I put them –

(Slowly pulls out the missing slip of paper.)

How did miss this?

FEUR

(To James and Barba.)

I'll tell you how.

JAMES

Easy, Feur.

BARBA

Yes, don't act like your immune.

-----

Again, that's a first draft. Needs polishing.

Closed for repairs.

So, no lines of dialogue were written today. This doesn't mean that nothing got done. As it turns out, important things got done.
I ran errands with my wife and daughter today. Spent some time sitting in the car, waiting. Fortunately I've started to carry a notebook again. (If you write, you should probably consider always having a notebook in easy reach.) I had some thoughts about the first act and some rearranging of events in the last third of the act. And, since I'd written down dialogue for the end of the play, I also made more notes about the second act. That lead to me writing a brief outline of that act.
Now I have a skeleton of an outline for act II. What that means is that I am more comfortable with how that act will go. I wasn't as sure on the details for Act II when I started writing the play, this has cleared out some of the fog of confusion. I'll be putting that new information into a slide presentation so I can fill each scene out, adding all the detail I feel like I'll need to write the act.
As I said. I've nothing to show for the day, as far as lines of dialogue, but I've accomplished so much more.

Here's a rainbow from Maui, Hawaii, so you don't feel like you've wasted your time here. :)

Back it up, try, try again.

So, as I mentioned yesterday, I was probably going to have to back up and rewrite from a certain point.
That's pretty much what I did.
This morning, as my daughter was sleeping in longer than her normal 7 am, I found I had a little extra time to write. I wrote 3 and 1/2 pages of notes. I wrote thoughts and ideas about what I had and where it was going, what I was missing, and some dialogue that occurred to me.
Now, this evening, as I wrap up for the evening, I have rewritten around four pages of new lines. The current page count is 37. Which means I wrote about four pages this evening. Tomorrow I'd like to get four more pages and have forty by the tenth day. That's still a good number to have at this point. It means I can still finish the whole play by the end of the month and actually have a good draft.
Tonight, instead of sharing dialogue I thought I'd show what my notes look like. If they seem cryptic, that's just my handwriting.
Here it is:

-----

-----

More tomorrow. I hope.

This is not the post you are looking for.

There is nothing to report on today because I have written nothing. I have thought a lot about the play, what I've written so far, what I need to write. While I am mentally drained from entertaining a 2 year old all day, the delay has happened for other reasons as well. I think the biggest block anchor, dragging me down, is where the play is at on page 34. I'm not sure I'm happy with it. So the best thing I can do is step back several pages and start again. Yes, I have an outline, but sometimes, as I'm typing, I wander off the reservation. Most likely that's because I didn't stick to the game plan closely enough.
Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to read through what I have. There are parts I know are missing and I'll weave those in as go along. When I get close to the end, where I believe I went astray, I'll copy everything up to that point into a new document. Then I'll start typing again, making sure I choose the right words to bend the play in the right direction.
Here's what I have for the last pages (32-34) right now:

-----

 BARBA

Tina! Wait!

(Exits behind Tina.)

FEUR

She's right, you know. We've at least got savings and retirement money to fall back on.

JAMES

Sterk will come through.

FEUR

He still going to propose? What's he got to offer?

JAMES

He's a good cook and he has a little saved. But I don't think that's what we need to be focused on. Not yet. Something just occurred to me.

FEUR

Oh, yeah? What?

JAMES

You've been carrying on about that jam for the last fifteen minutes.

FEUR

Yeah. You noticed, eh?

JAMES

You can taste it, can't you.

FEUR

I can. It's amazing.

JAMES

And your promise to Barba?

FEUR

Sh! Not yet. I'm not completely sure about this. I want to taste a few more things before I tell her.

JAMES

Got your foot in it now, Feur.

FEUR

The doctors said it would never happen. Since I never expected to taste again, what did it matter, agreeing to marry when I finally did.

JAMES

Maybe you should have taken Ameerah's prognostication more seriously.

FEUR

I take nothing about that woman seriously.

BARBA

(O.S.)

Well you tell me if I can help in any way.

FEUR
And, shush, you scoundrel. Don't breath a word of this.

(Barba enters.)

JAMES

Lips sealed.

BARBA

What's that?

FEUR

Nothing.

JAMES

I said I have an idea on the tip of my lips.

BARBA

Tip of your tongue.

JAMES

Yes. There, too.

FEUR

What idea?

JAMES

Between us, Ameerah, and Sterk, we probably have enough to save Tina's house.

BARBA

I don't think we have that much. She took out a third mortgage on the place.

FEUR

What!?

BARBA

She was just telling me.

JAMES

We could at least get her caught up and cover a few more months.

FEUR

That's wipe us all out. What then? Live on the street?

BARBA

No, it would give us time to find a long term solution. James is right. We need to talk to Ameerah and Sterk, see if they want to buy in.

JAMES

I'll need to check my accounts.

BARBA

We all do.

FEUR

We could walk down to the bank.

BARBA

We can check on the computer.

FEUR

There's no ice cream shop on the computer.

BARBA

You want ice cream?

FEUR

I want something cold. You want to come along, James?

JAMES

No, I can call my broker and get the numbers. So I'll just stay here.

BARBA

You're serious?

FEUR

It's a nice day. Why not? I'll get our coats?

BARBA

(Laughing.)

It's all very strange, but okay. To the bank and the ice cream shop.

-----

Expect some or a lot of that to change.

The Creation of Play is a Lot Like a Relationship

Another busy day, today. Took my daughter to her first gymnastics class. It's a toddler class so it's not "gymnastics," but doing activities that will one day translate into gymnastics. Anyway.
While I was there I was thinking about my play that I'm writing. The one I've been commenting on since the first day of the year. It occurred to me that right now, the actual writing of the play is a lot like being married. To make it work, you have put effort into it. You have to give a 100%.
From their I worked my way backward to the honeymoon. That's where you first sit down to write the play, full of the passion of the idea, fresh off the outline - if you're smart and did one - and the first pages flow like the sweetest nectar.
What's before that? Well, there's the writing of the outline, getting to know the play, finding out what works, what doesn't work. Trying to understand what make it tick. We're in the dating phase of the relationship. There's some restraint in the beginning until everyone is comfortable with everyone. If you tell people about your play idea, you've taken the date home to have dinner with your folks.
Now, before the dating, the courtship and all that, there's the flirting stage. Casual eye contact, a word exchanged here or there, trying to feel out if the other is a good fit. That initial blossom of, 'is there a future here.'
For me, that's what a play cycle is like. The flirting takes a short time or a long time, depending on the depth of the play. If you're trying to get laid at the party, you're not looking for something deep. That's short plays for you. Courtship, the outlining, can be quick, depending on how soon the play and I start clicking, where everything feels right, like it was always meant to be. I like the honeymoon part, just sitting down and the dialogue just pours out.  I can spend ours here, sometimes even a few days. But then we get down to life. And life, when writing a full-length play, is not all champagne and caviar. Much of it is laborious, taking things back, putting things aside, pacing yourself, thinking before speaking. And it is, energy wise, the longest part of the relationship.
Sometimes you just have to put the play aside, things aren't working. A divorce is needed.
Fortunately that is not the case with this play. I'm just in that marriage stage, just after the honeymoon is over where I'm going through the phase of 'what have I done to myself! Why did I commit to this relationship! Look at that hot little short play I could be doing."
Yeah, that's how my brain works.

For now, though, I spent some time during my daughter's nap scrubbing the shower and working on the play. I've gone ahead and gone back to find out where Sterk can make his appearances. First to introduce him and show his weakness, second to show that he has a ring for Tina. At that point in the play, no one - except Tina and Ameerah - know about the notice of foreclosure. So James think Sterk asking Tina to marry might make her happy. After the news, though, it seems like maybe he ought to put that off. Not sure if that'll be a simple issue or a complex one. Haven't gotten there.
The result is that I've added one page to the play and I'm on 34. Considering this is the seventh, I'm averaging just under 5 pages a day. I'll probably fall behind again as I have to rewrite a 10-minute play for a meeting tomorrow night. But we'll see. Daughter was up late and if I get up early and come to the computer, maybe I'll get some pages down after all.
Here's a smidgen from today:

-----

 FEUR

Did he get a laugh out of the aloe?

JAMES

No, he was relieved and embarrassed he hadn't thought of it sooner. Good call, Ameerah.

AMEERAH

Of course it was.

(To Barba.)

Sterk has your jam.

(Sterk enters, keeping a unique jar of jam poorly hidden.)

JAMES

Stretch marks. Who'd a thunk it.

BARBA

Here, Sterk.

(Sterk crosses to Barba.)

HOWARD

Would it put hair back on my face?

STERK

(Offering the jar to Barba.)

I couldn't get it open.

(Moves nonchalantly over to James.)

FEUR

Barba?

BARBA

Don't look at me, I never want it to come back.

(To Sterk.)

Thank you, Sterk, I'll take care of it.

(She opens jar of jam with ease.)

AMEERAH

(Returning to pad and newspaper.)

Sorry, Howard, you'll be smoothed skin the rest of your days. And someone's at the door.

STERK

(Removing a small ring box from pocket.)

James, I have it. Picked it up yesterday.

HOWARD

(As Feur verbally scoffs.)

Ah well. It was a thought.

(Door bell sounds. He quickly finishes what he's eating.)

Ah, lookie there. I guess I'll get that.

(He exits to front door hall.)

JAMES

(To Sterk.)

Wonderful. Let's see?

(Sterk tries to open box but can't quite pull it open. He shrugs and offers the box to James who pops it open.)

BARBA

(Watching James and Sterk.)

Here, Feur, put this on your toast.

JAMES

(To Sterk.)

Very nice.

FEUR & JAMES

What is it?

BARBA

It's a limited production blackberry jam with chipotle. Everything is pressed, cooked, and jarred by hand at a winery in California. Tina got if for you.

JAMES

For us?

(To Sterk.)

Maybe it'll improve her mood today.

BARBA

Well, for everyone, but I had Feur in mind when I told Tina about it.

STERK

She does seem rather down. Any reason you know of?

FEUR

(Laughing.)

If I don't like how it tastes, you can have it, James.

JAMES

(Handing back ring box, but leaving it open.)

No clue as of this moment. You tell us if you learn anything.

STERK

Will do. Rings a secret, everyone.

(Goes to kitchen door. Opens it but steps back.)

FEUR

Not to Ameerah.

AMEERAH

(Still bent over her pad and paper.)

I heard that.

-----

Hope someone enjoys reading that. I get a kick out of writing it.

Energy ebbs, unhelped by a bad night sleep and a "play date" for the daughter.

(If you're reading this stuff, leave a comment. Thanks.)

I'm sitting here in front of the computer and nothing is getting done. I woke up somewhere around a dozen times last night. Then, this morning, we had a play date. So there were six of them running loose. (Not to disparage the event, they had fun and I had good adult conversation/company.)
But that's not the only reason nearly nothing is getting written today. Primarily, it's concern about the story, the arcs, the plot points, and some of the dialogue. Overall, despite looking like it's going to come in way short of 50 pages, it has a good feel. The end feels a bit wooden and there are still pieces missing. But it's nothing to be ashamed of.
While my daughter napped I managed to get back to the beginning and get Feur and Barba's relationship clarified. (I'd also finally figured out how to work their relationship: Feur had made, previously, an agreement to marry Barba when it got is sense of taste back. Something he never believed would happen.) That story line will need some cleaning up, but I've laid the foundation.
I also have the first appearance of Sterk Mens in place. We get to see him and learn that he can't even open a jar of apple sauce. Later it makes sense when people are introduced and his backstory is highlighted. I plan on having him get help from James when he can't get the engagement ring box open. That part will happen in the first act but won't be fully realized until about 2/3 of the way through the second act. (This is all how I see it in my head. Subject to change.)
We're here on day six of the month long challenge. I'm at 32 pages. So, still better than the 3/day minimum.
The hard part right now is trying to keep moving forward to the end of the act without getting too caught up in the tinkering that is so difficult to resist.
Here's the beginning again with the Feur/Barba relationship introduced and Sterk Mens' first appearance:

-----

(Lights up on tea room style dining area. There are four small tables with several chairs to each and a sideboard where coffee and chaffing dishes can be set. There is a swinging door near the sideboard that opens on the kitchen, one on the opposite wall that leads to the front door, and a third one that leads to the bedrooms. James enters from the bedrooms door and crosses to the sideboard. He is carrying a newspaper.)

JAMES

No coffee? What time...?

(Checks his cellphone for the time.)

Hm. Weird. Oh, well.

(James goes to his favorite table and sits, opening the newspaper. Tina Tittle enters, carrying a fresh pot of coffee. She is sniffling and making pitiful sounds. James watches in silence.)

TINA

(Setting the coffee pot on the warmer.)

Oh, dear, oh, dear. Why why why?

(Begins to cry.)

I blame you, Gina. I blame you.

JAMES

Gina?

TINA

(Surprised.)

Oh! James. I'm sorry. I didn't see you there.

JAMES

Is your sister in some sort of trouble, Tina?

TINA

(Recovering from surprise and crying.)

Her? No. Gina's always gotten what she wanted. Even this.

(Waves at her side.)

No, she's living the high life. Meanwhile, sister Tina is going down with the ship.

JAMES

'Down with the ship'? Tina, what's going on?

TINA

(Bursts into tears for a few seconds.)

What's going on is that I've been foolish, James. Foolish and stubborn, but more fool than anything else. I thought it would last forever. I never thought -

(Feur enters.)

FEUR

(Heading to the sideboard and the coffee.)

Morning, you two.

TINA

(Moving away from Feur and wiping at her eyes.)

I need to get breakfast out. I'm running late. Not that any of it matters.

JAMES

(As Tina exits through kitchen door.)

Wait, Tina.

FEUR

(Pouring coffee and doctoring it with sugar and creamer.)

Happy birthday. What's with Tina?

JAMES

(As Feur sits and he fetches his own, black coffee.)

Thanks. I have no idea. She's really beat up about something. I've never seen her this messed up.

FEUR

Not even....

JAMES

Not even when she got her sisters pregnancy announcement.

FEUR

And she didn't tell you?

JAMES

I thought she was about to, but then you entered.

FEUR

Well, I hope it wasn't about me. Jim call yet?

JAMES

You ask Barba to marry you yet?

FEUR

Still can't taste anything, so no. Now, back to birthday boy's life. He's gonna call. You just wait.

(Barba enters from bedrooms entrance and crosses to coffee pot.)

JAMES

I've learned not to wait. And, no, Tina wasn't talking about you. I've no idea what she was talking about.

BARBA

And Feur has no idea what food taste like.

FEUR

Hey!

BARBA

Just teasing, darling.

(To James.)

Happy Birthday, James.

(To all.)

Where's the toast? Where's breakfast?

JAMES

Tina's working on it. And thank you.

BARBA

You're welcome. Tina's never been late with breakfast before. Ah, well.

(To Feur as she sets her coffee next to him, but loud enough for James to hear.)

Has he called yet?

FEUR & JAMES

No.

JAMES

And he's not going to call, so do please let it lie.

BARBA

(Going to kitchen door.)

I'm going to just pop into the kitchen to see about breakfast.

(Door to kitchen opens before she gets to it.)

Oh!

STERK

(Entering, hiding a jar of apple sauce so Barba can't see it.)

Sorry, Barba. Morning, Barba.

(Crosses to James. Barba watches with amusement.)

FEUR

You're sixty-five, James. He's got to call this year.

JAMES

He's never called before.

(To Sterk.)

Morning Sterk.

(To Feur.)

Why start now?

STERK

Morning, Feur, James. Can you get this?

(Sneaks the apple sauce to James.)

BARBA

It's your sixty-fifth birthday. It's a milestone birthday.

(James opens jar and Sterk quickly hides it.)

FEUR

That's right.

STERK

Thanks, James. And happy birthday.

(Exits to kitchen, quickly, furtively.)

JAMES

Thank you , Sterk.

(To Barba and Feur.)

So was fifty, and fifty-five, and sixty. He's not going to call.

BARBA

Let's not hang our hopes yet.

-----

Onward.

Pace slows as I check for sink-holes.

Day five. Wasn't sure I was going to get anything done. I'm solely in charge of the child during the day and we had music class and shopping to do. Those took a big chunk of the morning. Then stuff around the house. I wrote a page while she napped, but I figured that would be it. That wasn't a problem as I was ahead of the page count already.
But, San Jose Sharks had a 5pm start which meant I had more time on the computer after they won and now I have 31 pages of the script done.
I also wrote some notes in my physical notebook. I know I'm not getting everything down as I write this first draft. And somethings occur to me as I reflect on what I have down so far. Believe it or not, but I'm actually moving tentatively through the play right now. I'm listening to the voices I've given each character, seeing how it feels to me, looking for things that I need to have set up earlier in the act or will need to set up now for the second act.
I sometimes realize that I've forgotten something. In this case, it's something big. Howard was supposed to pull his hand out of his coat pocket to open the kitchen door for Maybelle, only to spill a pocket full of small pieces of paper onto the floor. Then he suddenly realizes that he forgot to put the new paper in the other pocket and he no longer knows which one was the new piece. It's kind of an important plot point that sets up for deep into act II. And I just realized I'd forgotten to write it in as I was writing this blog post.
There's a few others but I'll get them on the second draft. All of that will effect the length of the first act. I'm just worried that it's not enough to push the page count to 50+ without looking like fluff and filler.
Here's some from today:

-----

FEUR

No it's not. James can go live with Jim. At least he has family.

JAMES

Biologically, I have family. Emotionally and physically, I don't. Unless I count you guys and apparently Feur has already counted me out.

BARBA

It doesn't matter, the both of you, because we are staying right here.

FEUR

Until we're evicted by the bank.

(His attention is now focused on the toast.)

BARBA

Not if we come up with a solution.

JAMES

What solution? We need to talk to Tina, find out how bad things are and if she has an idea. Maybe she can talk to the bank?

BARBA

I've never been in this kind of situation myself. I'm just surprised she let it happen.

FEUR

Why can't we just accept the fact that this is all coming to an end? What's wrong with moving on? We've done it before, when the circus let us down. We didn't stay where it wasn't worth staying. We packed our bags and left. I think we should move to the town where this jam is made. As a suggestion.

AMEERAH

(O.S.)

James –

(James's phone rings.)

– Your phone!

JAMES

(Digs out his phone.)

Hello?

BARBA

Maybe this place is worth staying for. We know everyone here. Everyone here has a shared background. We don't have to explain ourselves. We just get to be our selves.

JAMES

(To phone.)

Well, it's good to hear your voice, too.

FEUR

(To Barba.)

Hold that that.

(To James.)

It's him, isn't? I knew it!

JAMES

(Shaking his head. Speaks into phone.)

Hold on a second.

(To Feur and Barba.)

No, it's not him. It's Gladius. He says 'hello.'

(Listens to phone.)

FEUR

Hey, yourself.

(To self)

Is there any more toast?

(Goes to look on sideboard.)

BARBA

James?

JAMES

(To Barba.)

Huh?

BARBA

Did Gladius ever find help for his acid reflux?

JAMES

Hang on.

(To phone.)

Gladius, how's the acid reflux, any better?

(Listens.)

FEUR

There's no more toast.

BARBA

Go get some.

JAMES

(To Barba.)

No improvement. Says he's given up the sideshow.

FEUR

(As he goes to kitchen door.)

What's a sword swallower do when he can't swallow swords any more?

(Opens kitchen door.)

Tina? Sterk? Can I get some more toast?

(Goes back to his seat.)

JAMES

(Listening to phone and then speaking to Barba and Feur.)

He says he's got several jobs. One at the cutlery section at Macy's and then knife sharpening at the local Ace Hardware.

BARBA

Makes sense.

JAMES

(To phone.)

Well, hey, Gladius, thanks for calling and I hope things improve.

(Listens.)

Move here? Oh, um, you know, let me talk to Tina and I'll get back to you.

(Listens. Tina enters with toast on a plate.)

Right. You take care, too. Bye bye.

(Ends phone call.)

TINA

(Taking toast to Feur.)

Talk to Tina about what?

JAMES

It was Gladius, looking for a place to stay.

TINA

Well, did you tell him what a... a mess I've made of things?

(Tina plops down in a chair and cries into a hanky. Barba moves to comfort her.)

BARBA

Tina, honey. You didn't make a mess of things.

TINA

I lost our house! How is that not making a mess of things!? I put every dime into this place. I have nothing, now. I don't have a home, I don't have any more savings left, and soon I won't have any of you. And I can't blame you. Who wants to be around someone who can't even keep a Siamese twin act together. Excuse me.

(Exits to kitchen, still sobbing.)

BARBA

Tina! Wait!

(Exits behind Tina.)

FEUR

She's right, you know. We've at least got savings and retirement money to fall back on.

-----

And there you go. Until tomorrow. (I hope.)

Potholes in the road.

Today ends with me hitting 23 pages. That's in four days. I would have been happy with 12, was shooting for 20, so that's all good. But it's not all good.
As I am writing, trying to keep to the outline as logically as I can, I see that the story has gotten along pretty far and there's only a couple more scenes and the act is over. But the first act should be closer to 50 pages. For this play it might be better at 60 because of the overlapping dialogue.
While this might be a good time to panic, throw in the towel and become a beet farmer, I'm aware of something else. There are potholes in the story. There are things missing that I know I want to add and that will effect the story and the number of pages. I also know that when I read through it I'll see things that I didn't do or should have done.
So despite the fact I feel like I'm falling short of the goal, I am aware that on a second go-around things will change for the better.
I mean, Sterk Mens' romantic interest in Tina Tittle hasn't been mentioned one bit, and barely have I touched on his own issue. Feur's supposed to get his sense of taste back, Barba hasn't shown her lust for food (and Feur) in this first draft
Things will get rearranged and altered/fixed. About the third pass, if I'm not getting the page numbers, well then I'll buy my Burpee Beet seeds.
And this is something else to be careful of: I can't just put stuff in to fluff up the page count. This isn't chicken breast that you can fill with water to get more per pound. The dialogue has to be relevant, it has to move the play along and be interesting. "Interesting," always my greatest fear; the lack of it.
Something from today:

-----

 JAMES

This might explain why she was crying earlier. I can't believe it, though. A foreclosure?

AMEERAH

Not a 'foreclosure,' but a notice that the house loan is on track unless she can make up the arrearages. That being all the payments and interest that Tina is behind on.

BARBA

But how? I mean, how did this happen?

FEUR

By not making her payments most likely. Can I have more of the jam, please?

BARBA

Get it yourself. Why didn't she make the payments?

JAMES

I'm just confused as to why she didn't say anything.

MAYBELLE

I just got here.

HOWARD

(More to Maybelle than anyone.)

I'm sure that things will work out.

AMEERAH

They will. I'm going to save the house. For all of use.

FEUR

Oh, for Barnum's sake –

BARBA

Be nice. You seem to be enjoying the jam, so pay attention to it.

(Tina enters. Everyone stops talking and doing things to stare at her.)

TINA

I heard a lot of …. noise?

(Pause.)
Okay.... what's going on?

(Pause.)

Someone start talking.

(Howard slowly holds up the letter. Tina slowly walks over and accepts the letter.)

TINA

Oh, no.

(Looking around, focuses on Ameerah.)

You told them! You promised you wouldn't.

FEUR

Whoa, wait! You know she knew?

TINA

She overheard a phone call she shouldn't have. Shame on you Ameerah, you promised.

FEUR

So much for the sight.

JAMES

Ameerah didn't actually tell us, Howard got the letter from a lawyer.

HOWARD

At the door. But I didn't open it. You can see the envelope is still sealed.

MAYBELLE

I just got here.

TINA

I know, dear. I'm sorry. I couldn't say no, not to your family. And, truth be told, they are paying your salary for the first six months.

BARBA

How did this happen, Tina?

TINA

The money, of course. I've been running out of it for a while now.

AMEERAH

I'm going to save us all.

FEUR

Hush up!

BARBA

Feur!

JAMES

Tina, we didn't have any clue.

TINA

No one did.

JAMES

Why didn't you say something? Ask us to pay more in rent.

TINA

I didn't want you all to leave.

BARBA

What would make you think we'd leave?

TINA

Tammy did.

(Pause.)

I didn't want to be alone again. That's why I bought this big house I couldn't afford in the first place. I wanted people to come and live here so I was always around someone. Obviously I'll never be as close to anyone as I was to Tammy. But hearing other voices, knowing that I only had to walk into another room and there'd be someone. Someone glad to see me.

(Pause.)

Now you're not glad to see me.

BARBA

No, Tina, no.

JAMES

You've been so generous all this time, we'd never desert you.

TINA

I wasn't sure. I guess I should have been, but I wasn't. And I was afraid that if I asked you to pay more, you'd leave. I couldn't bear the idea.

FEUR

We may not have any choice now.

AMEERAH

I told you –

FEUR

Yeah, yeah. The adults are having a conversation here.

BARBA

Feur! Please don't. Not now.

FEUR

Sorry, dear.

JAMES

Well you can raise our rents now, Tina. I don't think anyone here will resent that.

TINA

That's –

HOWARD

And I don't need the money, Ms Tittle. Happy to work for room and board.

TINA

It's –

MAYBELLE

My family's paying my wages but I'd be okay with room and board, so long as I can stay.

TINA

As long as we have the house you all have a place to stay –

AMEERAH

(Brandishing a scrap of paper from her notebook.)

Howard, get your coat. I have my numbers ready.

HOWARD

Yes, ma'am.

FEUR

That foolishness again. Every time you say “I vill vin the lottery” and you don't. Pulling six numbers out of the air isn't going to make this better.

TINA

Feur's right.

FEUR

Thank you.

BARBA

You're just mean about it.

-----

I hope that it's interesting. Fingers crossed.