I like to give my first draft to somebody and ask them: "What the heck have I done here? What's this all about? Someone once told me I'd written a work of humour. What? I had no idea! I went home and rewrote it as such ... I finally knew what I was doing.
Thank you so much, Richard. I am writing a stage play about Nina Simone and, like Malcolm , she too struggled with her identity as a black person in America. The play is called 'Eunice' which was her given name and I always thought I was writing a story about how she came to answer the call to write music in support of civil rights while all the time longing to fulfil her destiny to be a concert pianist. Recently, someone read it and told me, it is really about her identity and how she decides to commit to one part of herself. The sad truth is that she never was comfortable with any identity and when you read more about her life you realize that she suffered terribly with just that question. Do you think that we have a special responsibility when dealing with real people -- like Malcolm or Nina -- to consider their 'real' selves because at a certain point I think the 'real' person gets in the way of the 'story' person and you can find yourself hamstrung. You want to respect your muse but also tell your own story. Is that selfish?
I like to give my first draft to somebody and ask them: "What the heck have I done here? What's this all about? Someone once told me I'd written a work of humour. What? I had no idea! I went home and rewrote it as such ... I finally knew what I was doing.
Thank you so much, Richard. I am writing a stage play about Nina Simone and, like Malcolm , she too struggled with her identity as a black person in America. The play is called 'Eunice' which was her given name and I always thought I was writing a story about how she came to answer the call to write music in support of civil rights while all the time longing to fulfil her destiny to be a concert pianist. Recently, someone read it and told me, it is really about her identity and how she decides to commit to one part of herself. The sad truth is that she never was comfortable with any identity and when you read more about her life you realize that she suffered terribly with just that question. Do you think that we have a special responsibility when dealing with real people -- like Malcolm or Nina -- to consider their 'real' selves because at a certain point I think the 'real' person gets in the way of the 'story' person and you can find yourself hamstrung. You want to respect your muse but also tell your own story. Is that selfish?
Theme's scenery? Plot's between road and vehicle? Characters'r drivers/passengers?