The Juggler Interviews, #7: Kirsten Greenidge

 

Kirsten Greenidge and I are both part of the Rhombus playwrights group, as well as past Huntington Playwriting Fellows.  We're also both parents of two kids (though mine are a lot older).  I am a huge fan of her writing--it's lyrical and smart, and she plays with rhythm of speech (and sound) in ways that completely fascinate me. She's one of several Boston playwrights with a growing national presence, with recent productions by La Jolla Playhouse, Playwrights Horizons, Yale Rep, and commissions from other regional theatres   Her play, Luck of the Irish, opens tonight at the Huntington Theatre in Boston. In between previews, rewrites, and chasing kids, she took the time to answer a few questions.

Your career has really started barreling along lately, with productions at La Jolla Playhouse, Playwrights Horizons, Yale Rep, and the Huntington.  What some people don’t understand (I certainly didn’t until I saw you going through it) is how much travel can be required for these shows—you’ve got auditions, workshops, rehearsals, openings, talkbacks.  In the midst of all of this, you have two small children.  How did you manage the back and forth (and the rewrites!) with being a mom?

The amount of travel involved is insane.  Just as I don't think many people realize how much childcare is needed until they have their own kids' 24-hour needs on their minds, I never realized how much childcare is needed to be a playwright in production.  I haven't truly mastered this at all, but I'm learning.  I'm finding that as they get older--they are almost five and two-- I need more help so that I can research, actually write, rewrite, and attend rehearsals and note sessions during previews.  This can be the hardest part because if you're really grappling with a script problem with a director and dramaturgs and producers, those sessions can be long and intense.  The kind where you say you'll be back at nine and end up not walking in the door until midnight.  Basically I try to take each trip one at a time.  I will admit I've had to say no to a lot of travel that might have been really great for a play or networking and building a relationship with a theater.  My husband manages a restaurant and works non traditional hours, and that also contributes to my travel needs.  A night away might seem doable to a theater but usually for my family that equals about 48 hours of care, which is a lot of money!  It does make the juggle of playwright life and "normal" life challenging.

I find that I enter a production zone usually.  I fully admit the TV goes on if I am on the road with the kids and have arranged for rehearsal childcare but not rewriting childcare. While I think it is fabulous to ruminate on feedback as the writer, you also have to learn to work somewhat quickly, and I always want to make sure that my having my kids with me doesn't impede my ability to get work done.  That said, I will usually then make sure I take hours before rehearsal or during the dinner break and hang out with my kids so they don't need AS much therapy when they are older. Working at La Jolla was wonderful because their artist housing has pool access.  I would race back from the theater, give the sitter a two hour break, and get in "the hot pool" with the kids (they were obsessed with the jacuzzi and I'd set the timer so we didn't overheat, and play in and out of that tiny pool until it was time to get ready for the evening).

Until I had kids, I thought I could just bring them to rehearsal and they'd be quiet.  I don't know why I thought this.  I was a nanny, so the idea that I even ever really thought this is embarrassing.  One rehearsal period I did bring my daughter when she was a baby.  I felt so guilty getting a sitter or asking my family for the help I really needed.  I will never do that again.  I spent most rehearsals walking her around or shhing her.  After that I got familiar with babysitting websites and figured out what kind of sitters would work best given the demands of rehearsal, and worked to banish the word guilt from my vocabulary.  Which is important.  While I will help my kids talk through their feelings about my being gone a lot and for long periods of time, I have stopped apologizing for the leaving the house.  I don't want either kid to feel as though I should be ashamed for the work I do and for leaving them.

Another thing I am learning about being in production and being a parent is that I've had to be the controlling helicopter type parent our culture likes to make fun of.  I write notes.  I label stuff.  I get hyper about tv watching and bath schedules.  I used to take on the mantra of "as long as they're happy!" in regard to my kids and their caretakers.  But that was making me crazy.  For lack of better language, it really sucks to sit in rehearsal for hours and come back to a house that has gone berzerk.  Spending two hours digging out from toys and dishes when I could be with my kids or rewriting is not ideal.  I've become a bit more demanding in terms of what goes on in here when I am working.

I will say each of the theaters you named above have been extremely supportive when it comes to my childcare needs.  But with the exception of sometimes having to say "I flat out can't afford/need more funds if you need me there because of the plane fare/childcare for two kids on the road" I make a concerted effort not to expect a theater to act as my nanny service.  Often a theater will offer a list of names of sitters other artists have used, but other than that I don't usually ask for recommendations.   I think the internet has probably made this easier for me.  I can arrange for supplies (diapers, food, toiletries) to be sent ahead and can also hire my own sitters before I reach a city.  I can't imagine what it would have been like if this were a hundred years ago.  But then I think you could keep your kid in a drawer for at least an hour or two back then.

If you think of the theater as your employer, then it is easier to try to figure out how much you would want to involve it in the needs of your family.  Some people are very comfortable saying to an employer "I need x!"  But very few of us would show up to work and say "hey, I showed up, now you pay for my nanny".

Marianna Bassham, Nikkole Salter, Victor Williams, and McCaleb Burnett in Kirsten Greenidge’s THE LUCK OF THE IRISH.

Are there things that theatres or development organizations could do to make themselves more accessible to writers who are also parents?  Should they? 

I'd love a writing retreat or residency program where you can bring your kids.  I am sure the insurance would be through the roof for it, but I know I'd apply for something like that.  

I don't think theaters should necessarily pay for childcare or things like that, but I do think commission fees--for those writers fortunate to work on commissions-- should take into consideration the cost of living to an extent.  I've been fortunate to receive many commissions, and I am honored that I have.  But the entire amount and their payment schedules often make it difficult to use the fees to get more than a fraction of the work done, even with good time management and work ethic. I used to use commission money to take time to research and not work as many teaching jobs.  Now those fees usually go to childcare and I am unable to take the same type of time to do a project.

The upside is with the exception of one project (you know who you are!  I am still working on it!) I don't dawdle as much with my writing and, while I might write something horrible and have to rewrite, I don't sit waiting for the muses to take me away.  

Antione Gray, Jr. and Francesca Choy-Kee in Kirsten Greenidge’s THE LUCK OF THE IRISH.

Your plays often have children in them.  I think there’s a great shift that some writers make, in moving from writing from the perspective of the daughter, to writing from the perspective of the mother.  Do you see that starting to happen with your work?   To expand on this notion—you’ve been working on Luck of the Irish for a long time, since before you even had kids. One of the characters in the play is a young mother who is struggling with the treatment and development of her young son.  Have you seen your attitude/sympathies shifting in this play, as your own experiences as a mother have grown? 

They have shifted in that while I got to be known for writing about mothers and daughters before I had kids, now that I have children, I can see the parent-child relationship as being much more complicated than I ever knew it was.  It's definitely changed my writing.  However, in The Luck of the Irish I wrote much of the mom material that Hannah says before my daughter reached six weeks old.  One bit of feedback I keep getting on that character is : oh, you must be writing from experience.  And I was a little bit, but I had no idea of the working mom-concerned mom-slightly helicopter parent treadmill I was about to jump on.  Most of it came from an active fantasy life.

I often have kids in my plays.  I love that there are several generations represented on stage.  That has always been my experience of family life, which I write about a lot.  But working with child actors is challenging.  I have promised Francesca Choy-Kee, who was in Bossa Nova with a delightful child actor and is now in The Luck of the Irish with two equally delightful young actors, that the next time she is in a play of mine, I won't have her scene partner be a kid.  It is so rewarding to see a kid on stage, but it also brings a host of challenges.

When we read your plays in Rhombus, it’s always clear that you have a very specific soundscape in mind for your plays.  How did you work with director Melia Bensussen and sound designer David Remedios (I’m a huge fan of David—I think he’d be perfect for your plays) on shaping the production to match your vision?  

David is so so gifted.  So is Melia.  We had several workshops of the play before rehearsals began, and David was able to build a gorgeous design from mostly those, not so much Melia or myself giving him specific notes.  Sound is something I am learning more about.  I usually include a soundscape but I am still learning about how much sound an audience can take and what sounds are effective and which aren't. 

Melia, your director, is also a mom.  Our business is not known for being parent/child friendly.  Did it help having Melia and Lisa Timmel, Huntington's Director of New Plays (who is also a mother), on the team as you went into production to develop this play?

It helps to see women who are good mothers (Melia and Lisa both are exceptional working moms) as models of how things can work well.  Our stage manager is also a really kick ass working mom.  But I think no matter what is going on with each of the kids whose moms are working on the show, that all came secondary to the work once we were in the room, which is important.  And done not without legions of sitters and other parents (in this case dads) all working to make it work, so to speak.

What’s next after Luck of the Irish?

I have a ton of writing to do.  I am working on an adaptation of The Living is Easy by Dorothy West for The Goodman, as well as a play loosely about Tituba of Salem Village for La Jolla.  And a play about parenthood for Denver Center Theater. As well as continuing working with Melia on adapting the book Common Ground for the stage.  All the childcare needed for these endeavors is making me nervous...

Thanks, Kirsten.  And break a leg with the show!

Kirsten's play, Luck of the Irish, runs through April 29 at the Calderwood Pavilion at the Boston Center for the Arts.  

Glow reading tonight at Harvard Bookstore

Tonight, Tracy and I will be at the Harvard Bookstore for the reading of our friend Jessica Maria Tuccelli's book, Glow.  (7pm)  I interviewed her for the Juggler Series on this blog back in March.  It's a terrific read--if you're in the area, I hope you'll come join us.

Good news: Second Look is in Boston Theater Marathon XIV

I got some more good news:  my ten-minute play, Second Look, will be part of the Boston Theater Marathon XIV.  This marks my ninth time being part of this festival, which is my very favorite theatrical event.  Fifty different New England theatre companies produce fifty scripts by fifty different writers.  It's a great way to see a cross section of Boston/New England theatre at its finest.  It does require some stamina--the show will run on Sunday, May 20, from noon until 10 pm, but that makes it even more fun.  Not only is it great, high energy, theatrical fun, but it's also a fundraiser for the Theatre Community Benevolent Fund (of which I happen to be on the board).  TCBF provides funds to members of the greater Boston theatre community who are in crisis (illness, flood, fire, etc.).

In a couple weeks, I'll find out which company is producing my play.  Can't wait.  And I hope you can be at the show to check it out, or that you'll help spread the word.

Fresh Ink to take on Fire on Earth!

Very big news today: my full-length play, Fire on Earth, will be part of the Fresh Ink Theatre's 2012-2013 season, here in Boston  Sounds like we'll have some workshop time/readings, then a production in early 2013.  This new company is picking five playwrights to work with this season (three for production, including me, and two more for staged readings only).  The other writers are fellow Rhombus writer Ginger Lazarus, Emily Kaye Lazzaro, Kevin Mullins, and Noah Mease.

This is a young group, dedicated to new plays and New England playwrights.  They're one of several new companies that have sprung up lately in our area with an interest in developing new plays and local writers.

I've been working on this play for a long time, but I did a HUGE rewrite in 2010, while I was a Huntington Playwriting Fellow, followed by a reading from the Huntington Theatre Company.  All of which was enormously helpful.  Now I'll be able to make further changes and get to see the play finally staged.  I'm completely psyched.

Here's a short summary of the piece:

1524. John Tewkesbury is a savvy trader and smuggler, smart enough to know William Tyndale's illegal translation of the Bible will be a hot commodity. But, to sell the good book, he must elude the spies of Sir Thomas More and escape the fires of the Catholic bishops. In this true story about the struggle between dangerous information and powerful knowledge, one man journeys from merchant to martyr.

The Juggler Interviews, #6: John Shea

I've known John Shea for a while--he's a fellow Huntington Playwriting Fellow, as well as a fellow stay-at-home dad for this three kids.  John is a lifelong resident of Somerville, MA, and writes about his hometown (and elsewhere) with a clear, distinct voice. 

 

Hi John, thanks for taking the time to talk. It’s always a pleasure to talk to with another writer who is also a stay-at-home dad. How old are your kids now?

My son Jack is now 13, my twins Vivien and Cole are 10.

When do you find time to write? It gets easier when they’re in school. How did you manage when they were little?

I am a night person.  I write from about 10 p.m. until about 2 a.m., sometimes 3:00 a.m.  I’ve always been a night guy and luckily, because I waited tables for many years and worked nights, I have rarely done morning duty.  Incidentally, my family doesn’t want me up early because I am grumpy in the morning, which is understandable seeing that I may have gone to bed only four hours before the start of school.  That being said, I can write anytime.  Noise does not bother me and I have written with 4, 5, 6 kids running around screaming, music playing.  I drown it out… the only problem is if someone addresses me directly, then the concentration is broken, but otherwise, noise does not affect my work habits.  I suppose that’s because I was brought up in a house of seven children, all of us a year or a year and a half apart and when we each had a friend over, that meant the possibility of 14 kids in the house, (which did happen).  It was a pretty noisy environment to grow up in and I learned to concentrate in chaos. 

You went to the O’Neill in 2004. I’ve never been, but often wondered how I’d manage the month away from home with the kids and all. How did you handle it? Do you find it’s harder to apply for the various residencies and fellowships that are out there since you have kids? The business we’re in is pretty tough to navigate, but navigating it with kids can make it a lot trickier.

When I went to the O’Neill, my twins were 3 and Jack was 5.  My wife Debbie took some vacation time and we relied on a wide and very strong network of friends and family.  One of the benefits of still living where I grew up is the support system I have in place.  Also, Debbie took the kids down to see me on some Saturdays.  We had Sundays off at the O’Neill so I could take the train home if I wanted to.  I also spent two weeks in DC at the Kennedy Center’s Intensive Summer Workshop with Gary Garrison… for that we again used the same network of friends and family… and Debbie took some vacation time.  I don’t worry about applying for distant fellowships and residencies… believe me we will make it work, so make me an offer! 

You’ve really been experimenting lately with self-production, putting together readings of your own work, and finding other ways to engage the community in which you live. Can you talk a little bit about what you’ve been up to in Somerville.

Oooh- self production.  I am so glad I decided to produce one of my plays because it taught me that… I WILL NEVER DO IT AGAIN.  I produced a reading of my play, “WELCOME TO SOMERVILLE, Permit Parking Only,” and had a great time.  Two nights, a cast of 17 family and friends, people from the local community… it was great.  Then I tackled a fully staged production of, “The Painter.”  It was a nightmare, not because of anyone associated with it, but because of me.  I felt stressed (and I work very hard and drink a lot of Manhattans to keep stress out of my life).  I was anxious and constantly thinking about money, which otherwise I have no problem spending, especially on Italian leather shoes and good sports jackets, but that’s another interview.  While producing “The Painter,” I was short and abrupt with the kids.  Nobody was happy then.  But, I felt it was important to try and keep my work in Somerville, since this is where most of it is based, where I was born, raised and still live… and no, I’ve never lived outside the borders of Somerville and hopefully never will.  Why leave the place people are clamoring to get into? 

Sean A Cote in the Argos Production of Junkie, dir. by Brett Marks

 

There are a couple writers who I look to in our community for a strong local voice, and you’re definitely one of them. One of the challenges in writing work that’s so close to home is finding a way to be honest about what you see in the community around you, while still living there.  Sometimes people find it hard to be examined in that way. How do you keep from holding back? How have people responded? How do you see your role as a writer who is writing about his own community, both now and about the past history of that community?

First of all I don’t hold back.  I write what I see, from my point of view and to hell with what people have to say, including my extended family who haven’t always liked being “exposed,” but too bad, it was my life too.   

Anyway, when I wrote, “WELCOME TO SOMERVILLE…” there was a lot of vitriol directed at me and some of it was downright frightening.  I was threatened and accused of possibly molesting kids who come to my house, I was called a drunk, it was said that I berate my wife and children, spend all my money on drugs and prostitutes (I wish I was so wealthy…).  Unfortunately, it was all done anonymously online through public blogs.  The cowards didn’t dare say these things to my face because I wouldn’t have stood for it.  I have no problem standing up for myself or my family when someone fucks with me.  People who have experienced my temper have never crossed me again.  The issue with that play is that I was writing about a Somerville politician accused of molesting teenaged boys.  Someone didn’t like that (hmmmm, now who could that have been?)  But fuck ‘em that was the story I wanted to tell.   Too bad, I’m writing about my community and take it or leave it, I’m going to continue to write what I see, saw, experienced as a child and witness as an adult.  For the people who grew up here who say I’m portraying Somerville in a negative light, get over it.  There is still a huge drug problem and poverty in Somerville.  They don’t like it, too fuckin’ bad, then they should do something about it.  I feel I’m doing something about it by shedding light on it.  Maybe that’s not enough, but it’s something.  And for those suburbanites pouring into the city who never venture beyond Davis Square and claim that the Somerville I write about doesn’t exist anymore… wake up.  Somerville still has a very large immigrant and blue collar population, which was here long before they showed up.  These attacks on me and my writing are bullshit, and nobody ever has or ever will tell me what to write, how to live or anything else.  

When I produced, “The Painter,” I was called a racist and told that my ideas were stuck in some 1950’s KKK era.  These same enlightened few saw the play as disgusting and a shame.  But it didn’t stop me.  I’ve always done exactly as I wanted and always will (and luckily have a wife who somehow puts up with me…).  We live in a very diverse, constantly changing city here in Somerville and I think I capture that in my writing.  No, it’s not Lexington or Concord and I say, thank God for that.  Then of course, there are those who love my work, who look for signs of familiarity in characters, try to guess where a particular event in the play takes place (and some have correctly guessed just who or what a situation is based on).  I write about a community I have been part of my entire life and I think I do a pretty damned good job of it and make no apologies, so if you disagree or don’t like it… I have one word for you- screw.   

     

As your kids get older, your experience of the world shifts. Where a writer used to see the world from a child’s perspective, even that of a grown child, being a parent brings into focus a different way of looking at the world. We see our parents in a different light, from the perspective of a peer. We’ve now been through some of what they’ve been through. Do you find this showing up in your writing about families? Are you able to write about parenthood yet? 

I don’t write about parenthood in the way people expect.  I write a lot about the bad choices characters make as parents that will affect their children for the rest of that child’s life.  I often use drug addicted and alcoholic parents and people to portray just how dangerous these cycles are.  These behaviors and ways of thinking are passed on from generation to generation (some of the characters in “The Hill,” are the parents of the some characters in “Erin Go Bragh-less” and though there is a 30 year difference in the settings of those plays, many of the same domestic problems and beliefs from “The Hill,” have carried over until finally one of the characters in “Erin…” decides to break the cycle).  I grew up in a neighborhood riddled with heroin addiction and domestic violence.  I use that experience in my writing to try to change it.  When people see my plays, even the people still guilty of these behaviors, they see it from a different perspective and recognize that these behaviors and attitudes are wrong and just maybe they will take that perspective home and think twice before shooting up or lashing out against their children.  

Most of my plays deal with families and the interconnectedness of tight knit neighborhoods, an interconnectedness that can become dangerous (characters from one play may be discussed in another play and story lines somewhat cross between many of the works, since these are people who know their communities very well).  My children are shielded, protected from these behaviors and often ask when they can see my plays…”Not until you’re 17,” I tell them.  Not only do my children not see my plays, they will not know the “other” Somerville I write about, the Somerville of drugs and violence. God help anyone who tries to drag them into it, they will have to deal with me.

Jared Wright in The Painter, dir. by Robert Lublin, JaViviCo Productions

You and I have both been stay-at-home dads.  Do you find, as I do, that dads in popular culture, including theatre, are still generally portrayed as domestic idiots.  We're not expected to be competent at changing diapers, doing laundry, ferrying kids around, handling checkups, school meetings, etc.?  Maybe not enough of us stay-at-home dads are writing characters that reflect our own experiences of parenthood yet.

I detest the portrayal of men in pop culture, the stay at home dads who can't cook, who don't know how to operate a vacuum cleaner or sort laundry and who never seem to know where the paper towels are kept.  But the bumbling and fumbling of "Mr. Mom," makes for easy comedy.  I think it still speaks to gender stereotypes.  Women in the workplace are still portrayed as trying to run a board meeting while dealing with ripped nylons and child care issues, constantly on the phone with a nanny or oh my god- the incompetent stay at home dad... Both portrayals are incorrect but it's what people expect and if you give the public the unexpected and try to change their views, they turn on you and won't come to the play watch the movie or TV show.  We have to remember, art is business and going against the grain is dangerous... That's why so many plays today feel like sit-coms and television movies, people are afraid to takes risks.  There's money in safety.

   

What’s next for you?

I recently finished my first collaboration with my friend Maureen Cornell.  A restaurant comedy called  “Lifers.”  We had a very good first reading and are now rewriting.  And it’s a real comedy, every time I wanted to get dark or bring questionable behaviors in she would pull me back, “It’s a comedy,” she would say, “we’re not going there.”  Thank you, Maureen.   I have also started another play called, “DRUNK- the measure of a man.”  And no, I don’t care that it sounds very similar to my play, “Junkie,” they are very different works.  “Junkie” is a one man show about climbing out of the hell of addiction.  “DRUNK- the measure of a man,” is about the relationship between four men in their mid-forties, their families, marriages, children, occupations and their dependence on alcohol and how that affects each one differently and to varying degrees.  After writing a comedy I needed a little drama.  After writing this, I need a drink.  Cheers.

Thanks, John!

You can learn more about John's work at his web site, playsbyshea.com.

Next Wednesday, I'll talk with Kirsten Greenidge about balancing motherhood with a writing career that's lately brought her productions at La Jolla, Yale Rep, Playwrights Horizons, and the Huntington.