A lot of the micro-plays I've written are a little abstract. That might not be the right word... I think non-realism might be more correct. At any rate, such is the case with the third in my series of seven plays in seven days.* (You can read my first effort here.) In class, I definitely felt more comfortable with non-realism, so imagine my surprise when the first full-length, 2-act, 90-minute play I wrote was pretty much realism!
Anyway, here's a non-realism micro-play for your enjoyment:
I'm nearsighted enough that it's illegal for me to drive without my glasses. I can't make out the titles on my bookshelves from more than about a foot away.
At Christmas, though, I like to take the glasses off for a minute while looking at a decorated tree; the little light bulbs become indistinct rounds of fuzzy color, bleeding into the blurred mass of what used to be individual green needles. In a way, it’s far more beautiful than the crisp, clear image I see when I put my glasses back on; it has an air of magic. It’s the same with stars. With glasses, they appear to be the tiny pinpricks of light that they are, but if I take my glasses off, they appear bigger as each bit of light expands in blurriness.
This weekend a plurality of Christian artists are gathered
together in Tennessee for an annual event known as “Hutchmoot.” Hosted by the folks at The Rabbit Room, with names inspired by Tolkien
and Lewis, and the silhouette of a rabbit smoking a pipe for their logo, it all
looks quite magical from the outside.
But it’s all moot (see what I did there?) if the ultimate aim
isn’t to glorify God – to be a group of people of whom it can be said, “Then
those who feared the Lord spoke
with one another. The Lord paid
attention and heard them, and a book of remembrance was written before him of
those who feared the Lord and
esteemed his name” (Malachi 3:16, ESV)
I discovered The Rabbit Room not that long ago, and I’ve
never been to a Hutchmoot – I am a newbie and still an outsider. What I know of
the artists involved encourages me to hope that this is exactly the kind of
thing happening at this gathering. Regretably, I have been to events where this was not the
case.
During the 2015-2016 school year, I took a series of dramatic writing classes. One of our exercises was to write seven plays in seven days, in the spirit of Suzan-Lori Parks'365 Days / 365 Plays.
I accepted the challenge, and wrote what I call a 'micro-play' every day for a week. This is the first:
Welcome to Part Two of my interview with Ginny Owens on the intersection of faith and art. Did you miss Part One? Read it here.
What is your songwriting process like?
Usually, there’s some phrase of a lyric that will come with a melody. It helps to have a lyric with which to create your melody and you just put a lot of silly words in it, and then later you go back and spend hours, days, years reshaping the lyric to make it say what you want it to say, and sometimes that means there needs to be a little melody change. I usually start with a little bit of melody and a lyric, and when I write them down in my little idea book, they’re usually a concept, not an actual lyric.
Obviously, your faith informs your work. What are some of your daily habits with God?
In the morning I have about 45 minutes (it’s supposed to be 25 minutes, but once I get my coffee I start thinking about my day and get so unfocused; I have to kind of hang out with God until I can focus my brain). I try to do guided prayer time; I’ll write down things I want to thank God for, or things I want to praise Him for. I love Puritan prayers – I’ll pray through liturgical stuff just to get some new words.
