One Drop of Love

After last week’s readings, Ricky Pak, a fellow MFA student, suggested I take each of the mini-stories within One Drop and write them on an index card. I then take those index cards, throw them up in the air and let them land - and then run the show in THAT order to see what I learn.

I’m still about a week and a half away from getting the show up on its feet in a rehearsal, but I’ve already put Ricky’s suggestion to good use. In completing this latest draft, I’m throwing the cards up a few times and reading the play in its new order to see where it takes me. It’s a perfect exercise to help me stay open before I have to set the story for light and sound cues and other set considerations.

Wednesday and Thursday this week I did two readings of the solo show. It was an incredibly valuable experience.

For my listeners in this round, I invited people who

1) would be supportive of me and the work

2) would give honest feedback

The Wednesday group consisted of my two directors (one directing the live performance, the other directing the filmed version), three actors, my thesis Chair, my play-writing professor, the set designer, and a writer. I had 40 pages, which I presumed, like film, would take 40 minutes. An hour and twenty minutes later, it was clear that I needed to make substantial cuts.

Here is some of the feedback from the Wednesday group:

1) The central question is still not clear; therefore, neither is the answer

2) You need to decide whether this is more of a storytelling piece - think Swimming to Cambodia, or a performance piece. Right now it feels more like the latter.

3) You have a tendency to tell us you’re going to tell us something, tell us, then tell us what you just told us; one friend suggested I look into ‘semiotics’ - the study of signs & symbols and how we use them to communicate. This would help me remember how little needs to be said in order for my audience to understand.

My original intent was to read the same script the next day, but I was so motivated and excited by the feedback that I woke up at 6 AM and started hacking away.

Thursday afternoon I walk in with a new script - 10 pages shorter. This group includes 5 writers and two professors (one theater, one theater production). As I read I feel my central question is much more clear within the first two pages. I had also peppered more performance throughout, so I get to try on some new characters. I finished in just under an hour.

Thursday’s group got the central question AND its answer. Their notes mostly centered on specifics - e.g. they’d like more information about how and when my parents met, they’d like to hear more of my perspective throughout. Structurally, many agreed that I should use more monologues instead of dialogue between characters, mostly for clarity.

And so, I DID IT! I read the first draft of One Drop of Love out loud for others - and I did not die. I am really excited about the process ahead, now that I have completed this very important step.

Today I met with the CSU LA Production Manager - Meredith Greenburg - who is adored by all of the students at school (which makes meeting with her one-on-one a serious challenge and accomplishment). My name and the dates of my tech rehearsals and performance are printed on the gigantic calendar hanging on the Production Office wall - making all of this very, very real. And that scared the crap out of me!

I was whiny with Meredith - “I’m not ready…I don’t know what I’m doing…This isn’t going to work…” and, well, Meredith doesn’t take that kind of behavior. She essentially told me to suck it up and get it together. She suggested I schedule a ‘kick in the pants’ reading both to put myself on a deadline and to get feedback from people I trust. Right! I keep forgetting to give myself permission to be a writer first - and to take the steps a writer gets to - needs to - take. A writer writes and rewrites and gets feedback and rewrites and gets feedback and rewrites some more. And that’s what I’m giving myself permission to do this month.

Writing as an actor presents particular challenges. Although I’d written screenplays which included roles for myself as an actor, I’m discovering that writing for myself as a stage actress is a whole different animal. First, a film actor has very little control over what their final performance looks like. On the other hand, a stage actor always has final say. Think about who has ultimate control over the final performance of a film or TV actor: the director, the cinematographer, the gaffer (lighting person), and - the person often with the most control, yet the least appreciated - the editor.

Acting for the stage is very different. I fell in love with acting on stage when I played in my bilingual school’s second grade production of The Nutcracker and learned very early on that my level of commitment, my ability to genuinely live in the moment, my connection to the character had everything to do with the ultimate outcome of every single stage performance. When I wasn’t connected, I and the audience felt it immediately - no matter the direction, lighting, costumes, props. There is no such thing as “We’ll fix it in post.” When I wasn’t connected, I felt it, and I received tepid responses to my stage work.

When I began writing the stage version of One Drop of Love, I was also writing the documentary treatment in my head. In some ways, this was helpful because a story is a story is a story - so I needed elements of great storytelling for both documentary film and stage. But I learned towards the end of the quarter in my playwriting class that I had been thinking too much about my audience in the early drafts of my play. I was writing all of these visual cues and fancy lighting instructions. When I’d share my work in class, I saw my classmates’ glazed over looks - they were lost in a sea of stage directions and visual storytelling. Finally, my professor - the wonderful, kind and talented Jose Cruz Gonzalez said: Fanshen, I need you to tell your story. Stop thinking about what it’s going to look like. Just tell me the story first.

Ironically, I had heard these exact same words about two weeks prior when I’d found out I hadn’t gotten a grant I’d applied for. The grantee was kind enough to offer a free 15-minute consultation to help improve my chances for the future. The first thing she said was: what is your story?

I thought my story had been so clear. Can’t you see? Race is in the way of my relationship with my father! What don’t you understand? Well, there’s a story behind that. And it needs to be developed in order for the audience to understand and connect - and even for ME to connect as an actress.

So - I begin my new draft with this in mind. I virtually ‘vomit’ my story, without thinking of structure or visuals or what the audience will take away. Jose Cruz Gonzalez called me at the end of the quarter after I’d handed in my first full draft and said: Ah yes. THIS is the story. Now I want to know more!