posted by Aditi Brennan Kapil
"Agnes Under the Big Top" by Aditi Brennan Kapil is a Distinguished New Play Development Project from the Lark Play Development Center (NYC) in consortium with Mixed Blood Theatre (MN), The Playwrights' Center (MN), InterAct Theatre Company (PA), and Fourthworld Theatre Projects (US/Bulgaria). It recently reached its fifth and last development milestone.
A quick note on the past week at Lark before I settle down to think/blog in more depth about the past year and the various steps of the development journey.
I have to be honest and say that I arrived at Lark last week frustrated with myself, my play, and desperately needing to, by the end of the week, either fall back in love with it or ceremonially burn it. I spent the first 3 days writing like a crazy person, my actors never had the same script twice and in one instance hadn’t even read the rewrite they were handed at the top of rehearsal when I replaced it with a newer one an hour later. The first day I forgot to eat, so after that I started my writing days at a diner over breakfast- (Moonrock diner, eggs benedict, coffee, tall glass of orange juice, highly recommended!) Liz and I talked one morning in Bulgaria about the difficulty of writing from a place of metaphor rather than a place of action. Writing from a place of metaphor you have endless avenues and threads you can pursue, and I feel like a pursued many many many of them this year. I must have written 20 plays in trying to find the one. And, for me at least, the only truly consistent thing I had to guide me was my own instinct, god forbid it have a bad day. ‘Does that feel like it belongs in the play’? ‘Does that feel like the play I want to write?’ Perfectly good material got chucked on the say-so of my instinct. Perfectly bad material stuck around for a really long time for the same reason. And the upshot was that after a year of ‘feeling’, I couldn’t see straight. So much material had come and gone, the play had been re-arranged so many times as I tried new entry points, new protagonists, new structures, that I honestly didn’t know if there was anything there.
The greatest gift of the week at Lark, aside from dedicated time to just work with no distractions (this is a big deal for a playwright with a largish family), was the gift of collaborators who actively loved the play and could help me rediscover the reasons I set out to write it in the first place. You break something apart too many times, it gets hard to see how it can ever fit together again. Part of me wishes that all that breaking apart hadn’t been necessary, it would be nice to believe that the work could have sprung fully formed from my mind, in fact I’d still like to experience that some day so I’m not taking it out of the realm of possibility completely, but this particular play could not have found itself without being broken every which way first. It has too many layers, too many ideas, too many lives running through it or something, I don’t know, but I couldn’t think them all at once. And looking back, every single detour, however idiotic (there were some stupid ones) grew it in some way. So, the good new is, after 3 days of brand new scripts, I sat at the end of rehearsal thinking that all the material was there, it just didn’t flow the way it was supposed to. Liz, and my lovely director Eric Ting, looked at me and said ‘so, what do you need?’
-I need you to help me rearrange the script, because I can’t see straight. Literally, rearrange it
We started at the table, then ended up on the floor, some scenes got split into halves and moved, others just relocated, I pretty just much sat back and watched them work from their instinct, because the issues now were structural, and not subject to my inspiration, and a director and dramaturg can do mad work on structure. We got stuck in the middle, so we skipped through to the end- great end, great beginning, stuck in the middle. I looked at the wad of paper I had in my hand for the middle, and I said ‘this is the rewrite’- the middle section needed its very own rewrite so it could take its place in the whole. Scary truth? It’s kind of easy to do the work when you know exactly what the job is. Makes you wonder what we’re doing the rest of the time, muddling around in the unknown. I rearranged the script over dinner, putting aside my ‘rewrite’ for morning at the diner. Had some beers at Valhalla (also highly recommended). Slept. Finished the draft the next morning. When we read it that afternoon I tweaked. More importantly, I liked it. I still liked it the next day. I know why I’m writing this play again. I know where it’s headed, and how it’s getting there. And the rest is deepening, discovering, little epiphanies. Watch, now I probably jinxed myself.
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