to “two” or not to …

The almost two year old is waking up, of course, so I’ll have to leave this unfinished for now. I spent too much time trying to sort out the fertility doctor’s orders and potential for oversight and it ate up by blog time. Classic. This is exactly why I need to write more. get it out of my head before it destroys me… there’s a song lyric like that…

we are down the road on our first attempt to create a second life. and our first still holds my whole heart. (even when she wakes up during my writing time.) There is still so much joy and newness in her experiencing the world and the thought of missing any of that because I have another baby to care for makes me sick to my stomach. But then–the thought of growing another baby and introducing #1 to what it means to be a sister, and imagining how she will be with a real baby makes my heart feel so full.

If I were a more faithful person, ahem, a more faithful and hetereo person, this is where I would “let go and let God”–I’d plan with my husband and have sex at the right times and leave the actual decision about having a second child or not up to the big guy upstairs. But I am not those things. I am a person who has to wrack up a credit card with sperm shipping and blood tests not covered by insurance. I am a person who wants all the information to make the best possible plan. I am a person who is impatient with inefficiencies and miscommunications and as such am currently residing in my personal hell. I don’t have faith this doctor is doing the very best thing for me, I think they lost the medical records I handed them 6 months ago and so are now going to order repeated blood tests (NOT GONNA PAY FOR THAT, BTW) and I don’t feel like they have any regard for the financial and emotional cost of those decisions.

I don’t particularly like needles, but I have a medicine cabinet full of them. I don’t react the best to a bunch of hormones, but now I have them coursing through my veins. I’m not sure this is the right way to go, but we’re already here, (and we want a baby, after all, right?)so I’m going with it. Until Tuesday. Then I will ask all the questions until I get satisfactorily detailed and personalized answers. I will air my concerns about too many follicles and the fucking weekend fee, and that if they lost my test results they can either pay for me to repeat the test or they can give me the paperwork to have the results transferred from the lab where it was done. 6 months ago.

We want a baby after all, right? Or maybe we could just spend our money on another long weekend with our #1. Maybe she’d be satisfied with her doll baby. She’d never know what she was missing. We’d never miss a thing with her. We’d be a party of three, happy as can be. Right?

A friend recently told me, “you’ll never regret having a baby, but you might regret not having one when you had the chance.”


the toddler sucked my brains

it’s not the title of the latest zombie apocalypse show on hbo. it’s my life. and its actually an unfairly negative representation of my life. but sometimes its how i feel. i can’t find anything anymore. i forget birthdays and details of friends lives that two years ago i would never have had to put into my phone as a reminder. but now i do. now i have a tiny person who needs my creative energy to ensure she has the right materials out on her shelves at the right times, who needs my critical thought about how exactly this introducing the toilet thing is supposed to go, and who gleefully eats up my “bonus time”.

i can’t stand the thought of starting a “mommy blog” but maybe thats what this little thing is going to turn into. because, try as i might to avoid it, i’m a mommy. and i love it. and i thrive off of each new accomplishment she makes, and of diy-ing her some crafty montessori-inspired materials, and i’m actually excited about going to her first classmate-invited birthday party this year. even though the theme is bugs. she’s got some of the brains i used to use for booking a reservation at the latest restaurant to try, or to decide if i was going to try out this whole skinny jeans style…and she’s got parts of my brain and my heart i never knew i had. so here’s to her, and here’s to getting back into some creative practice for myself.


vacation brain

Well, faithful readers, this is it. The last of my 90 day daily writing commitment. Unfortunately, it’s ending dangerously close to the time the wife and I are departing upon our grand, pre-baby bucket list European vacation, and so I can barely sit still at work, even to write for fun. So, instead of a play, you’re getting short poems. Maybe while sitting in a pub drinking Guinness I’ll bring out my notebook and one of these partially neglected prompts and drum up some new characters. But for today, and for the next few days, my brain is on vacation. Farewell for now, I’ll be back with tales of the Emerald Isle and “The Continent”.

it has been said there is a kind of sweetness in the last days of summer, a sweetness in the air, and the long tide of despair.

Caridad Svich, playwright, translator, songwriter, lyricist and editor

The fall won’t come soon enough and I’m not ready to say goodbye to the sweet stickiness of my sunkissed skin.


food as religion.

Instead of praying, I…

Michael John Garcés, playwright/director

 

instead of praying, i cook.

i feed my family and my self

and my mind clears

and problems seem solvable

and irritations are forgotten

and with an exhale and a bite

the need for prayer dissolves.


stranger than fiction

Funny how real life just pops up when we set out to write fiction, isn’t it? I mean, I’m not saying anyone in my household pees when excited, but beyond that theatricality, this conversation could very well take place in my home in the coming months!

 

She expresses joy in a really unusual way!

David Copelin, playwright/dramaturg/translator

 

 

THEA

Shut up.

FANNIE

Well… it’s what it says…

THEA

Are you sure?

FANNIE

I took two tests. But no, I mean, I guess not… the blood test isn’t until Tuesday.

THEA

But you peed on two separate sticks.

FANNIE

Yup.

THEA

And they both came back with the same result.

FANNIE

Sure did. Positive.

THEA

Positive.

FANNIE

Yup.

THEA

Which means you’re currently growing our baby!?

FANNIE

That may be a bit of a stretch. But… maybe?

THEA

Baby!

THEA and FANNIE hug. FANNIE looks down as they separate.

FANNIE

Did you…just…?

THEA

I’m just so overjoyed!

FANNIE

I peed on a stick and still managed to keep it all in the toilet…

THEA

I’ll get the papertowels…

THEA exits.

FANNIE

Don’t forget the Clorox!

Beat.

Maybe I’ll be shopping for newborn and adult diapers…

THEA

I heard that.

FANNIE

Good! I’m serious! Thea, you gotta get control of your sphincter… or whatever that muscle is…

THEA

We can do Kegals together. It’s supposed to be good for recuperating from, well, you know…

FANNIE

Great. So sexy.

THEA

Couples that Kegal together stay together…?

 

End of play.


whew! iambic pentameter!

Choose two previously written characters that interest you.  Let them converse  in iambic pentameter or rhyming couplets.

Katie Pearl, writer/director/performer

 

 

MARTHA

Do people really talk this way aloud?

JAMES

They say we’re born with speech already in. Our brains have no control not really any.

MARTHA

That can’t be true! No way! I’m in control!

JAMES

You think you may but nay—it’s automatic.

MARTHA

How dare you say such things—you say we’re robots?

JAMES

Oh no—I say I know I love you dear. I simply must admit I know not why.

MARTHA

Why must you say such hurtful things to me?

JAMES

My brain has no control not really any.

MARTHA

But what about your heart—what say you now?

JAMES

I say what has been said a thousand times: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

MARTHA

A woman scorned is almost never loved.

JAMES

A woman scorned forgives a foolish man?

MARTHA

This woman scorned must know her love is real.

JAMES

This man is full of love and foolish words.

 

End of play.


I love stage directions.

(Don’t tell my college playwriting professor.)

 

 

A stage direction that seems impossible to perform in the real world, but makes your heart leap.

Megan Monaghan Rivas, director/dramaturg/educator

 

 

Two cars pass one another. The drivers make eye contact. They both pull over at their first opportunity and, leaving engines running and doors ajar, they run into one another’s arms, in the middle of the road.


don’t be afriad

here’s a little play for you, from yesterday’s prompt…. only 5 days left in the 90 day daily writing challenge!

*       *       *

the boy sits on the swing. afraid to fly. the girl watches him. afraid to push. a dog appears.

Caridad Svich, playwright, translator, songwriter, lyricist and editor

 

The girl crouches down. The dog licks her ear.

BOY

Weren’t you afraid?

GIRL

I’m not afraid of nothing.

BOY

I’m afraid of everything.

GIRL

That doesn’t sound like very much fun.

Beat.

Want a push?

BOY

I’m afraid.

GIRL

Your momma never swang you as a baby?

BOY

I don’t remember.

GIRL

That’s no fun at all. Here. I’ll push you. Just hang on to the chains and pump your legs, ok?

BOY

I’m not so sure.

GIRL

We’ll be right here, won’t we, boy?

The dog wags its tail.

BOY

Ok.

Girl pushes boy. He relaxes.

GIRL

Can I swing with you?

BOY

Sure.

Girl climbs into swing next to Boy.

GIRL

Thanks. It’s fun swinging with someone.

BOY

Yeah. This is fun.

GIRL

Wanna swing together again tomorrow?

BOY

Yeah. Wanna be my friend?

GIRL

Yeah. See you tomorrow friend.

Girl jumps off the swing, whistles for the dog and they walk out of the park.

BOY

Is that your dog?

GIRL

Yeah! Why’d you think he kissed my ear?

End of play.


tiny but pretty

The first time I ….

Lynne Kaufman, playwright

 

The first time I saw you I knew you’d be somebody to remember.

I think I thought that, anyway. Maybe it’s a memory trick. Maybe it’s all the years of our history and love and the vows we took that make me remember that morning like it took place in a novel.

But then again, maybe I knew, right then. The first time I saw you.


family drama

“We’re having this family meeting because Mom…”

Kristen Gandrow, dramaturg/arts administrator

DAD

Well… mom is pregnant.

SON

Way to go, pops, still got the rhythm, eh!?

DAD

Shut your mouth.

DAUGHTER

Ew.

SON

Oh grow up.

DAD

It’s a good thing your parents still love one another, honey!

DAUGHTER

Don’t touch me.

SON

Don’t be such a bitch.

DAD

Brad!

DAUGHTER

Fuck you.

DAD

Watch your mouth, young lady.

DAUGHTER

Sorry. Congrats. I guess.

DAD

Well thank you.

MOM

I know this must come as a shock, but thank you. We were also surprised, frankly, but we’re really happy to expand our little family.

SON

Good for you guys. Just don’t expect me to raise it when you die before it graduates high school.

DAD smacks SON.

Ow.

DAD

You deserved that.

DAUGHTER

He’s right. Me neither. No diapers for me. Fuck that.

DAD smacks DAUGHTER.

DAUGHTER

I had an abortion last weekend.

End of play.


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