Fallout Girl's Blog

Dirty Laundry

Radiation Level:  Deceptively Sudsy

Listening To:  New Rock by Buffalo Daughter

KodakGirl asked FalloutGirl to be part of special project:  A women’s play festival with nine female playwrights!  It’s called DIRTY LAUNDRY and all nine plays will be performed in Prescott, AZ.  Okay, a bit of a trek from LA.  Or, let’s face it, anywhere, but I’m still terribly excited to be part of it.

Us lady playwrights are going to be blogging as well, so if you want to check it out, go HERE.

And if your finger’s broke, you can read it here:

Cowgirl Dreams and Pythagorean Plays

Posted on June 19, 2011 by Guest Blogger

*this gas mask was Photoshopped.

I wrote my first play when I was 5 years old.  It was Halloween, and well, dressing up in costumes wasn’t enough for me.   I had to put on a show.  I remember having this powder blue typewriter I loved.  I would hunt and peck the keys with my tiny fingers.

The dialogue for the Halloween play went something like this:


Okay, so I was no child prodigy.  Didn’t matter.  I wanted to be an actRESS.  Not an actOR.  The suffix “or” was for unruly boys.  An actress was lovely and loved.  And that would be me.

The next play I remember writing was in high school.  Geometry class.  Seriously.  I didn’t (and still don’t) get geometry with its useless proofs.  Math is great, but teach me something useful like how to use moving averages in stock market charts.  Anyhow, the play was called “Heavenly Angle” and involved Pythagoras getting thrown to the lions then having to solve a proof to get out of hell.

Again, not a prodigy.  But I did get an “A” in the class without ever solving a proof.

Eventually I fulfilled my dream of being an actRESS (funny how I never realized that my dream included daily rejection, living in constant competition with my girlfriends, always wondering if I was fat, and – oh – did I mention being totally broke?)  So what solves all these problems?  Writing!  Screenwriting, to be precise.

Okay, back up.  Writing had gotten me out of a bind in the past.  Well, once.  But somehow I thought it would solve all my problems NOW.  (i.e.: No one cares what size you are, girlfriends can be trusted and supported, and – oh – did I mention the big paycheck?)

The only thing that I didn’t realize was HOW.  HARD.  WRITING.  IS.  It’s harder than acting and damn, is acting hard.  So, since I’m still waiting for the “big paycheck”, I enthusiastically said “Hell’s yes!” to Miss Tiffany when she asked me to write a 10 minute play.

I’m thrilled to see it performed.  In fact, I’ve never had a play I wrote as an adult produced.  But I’m also terrified.  All the other writers are real, actual PLAYWRIGHTS who’ve been produced all over the country.   And they are uber-talented.  So I suddenly have the feeling like I’m back in Geometry class, trying to solve a proof.  In over my head and only writing will get me out of it.


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