I'm teaching three classes this winter on the three subjects I presumably know best - Story Structure, Musicals and Humor.
1) Story Structure - http://atticwritersworkshop.com/workshop/winter-workshop-fiction-workshop-story-structure-tuesdays
It happens to every writer--you start your novel, memoir, screenplay, or play full of excitement and then the story fizzles before you're halfway through. The answer is to master the techniques of story structure. This class focuses on how to build a page-turning tale that will keep readers up all night. Students will work in class on the mechanics of their stories-in-progress, regardless of the where you are in the process.
Time: Tuesdays, 10-weeks, 7:30-9:30pm, January 19 - March 23 @ The Attic Writers Workshop
Total Fee: $330
Deposit: $100 (non-refundable)
2) Mastering Musicals - http://www.pcs.org/classes/#Mastering%20Musicals
Sure, Broadway musicals are fun, but there’s more to them than you think. This class focuses on the basic structural components that go into crafting a musical. Through thoughtful analysis and discussion of extensive video footage, both fans and practitioners will gain a deeper appreciation and understanding of this indigenous American art form.
Course dates: Mondays, Feb. 1 – Mar. 22, from 7pm to 9pm @ Portland Center Stage
Tuition: $200
3) Laughing Matters - How to be Funny Even if You're Not
No matter what genre you work in, humor is an essential (and welcome) tool in the writer's toolkit. And like any other aspect of writing, it's a tool you can learn to use, even if you're not naturally funny. All levels and genres welcome.
Sundays, 3:00 - 5:00pm, in the loft at Annie Bloom's Books
Begins: January 31st
$330 for 10 classes ($60 deposit)
Register by e-mailing: marcacitoteaches@comcast.net
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Blinding Flash of the Obvious
Having re-written my play Birds of a Feather and My Secret Mystery Project, I am once again turning my attention to Book Three in the Theater People series, titled The Jazz Hands of God. Re-reading my draft six months later has been informative to me, so I thought I'd share the insight for those of you who write.
What strikes me most - beyond my relief that it's not total garbage - is how much my process mirrors my personality. What I have right now is full of laughs and cleverness, crammed with ideas and lots of activity. What's still needed is the depth of heart and the clarity of purpose. The first is no surprise to me - I dig for emotion in my work, but usually with great resistance. Feelings frighten me. (To be fair, reconciling emotional truth with a flat-out farce is a difficult balancing act.)
What surprised me most, however, was how I lost sight of what my hero wants. How his goal gets obscured amongst all the activity. As I saw it on the page, making note to clarify it, I thought how I myself suffer from the same condition. I'm an ambitious person, but my goals can get a little fuzzy. And I'm easily distracted by activities along the way.
I know, realizing the your writing reflects who you are is a blinding flash of the obvious, but what surprised me was how my actual process reflects how I experience the world. That my shortcomings as a writer are my shortcomings as a person. Eventually I'll clear away the debris to show what Edward clearly wants. But it would be nice to be the kind of person who knows that to begin with.
Naturally, in my usual myopic obsession, I failed to post my defense of Scrooge last week. Anyone who's seen my play Holidazed knows how conflicted I am about the holidays, but I'm happy to report I had thoroughly lovely day, beginning with reading Christmas cards in bed, having a heart-to-heart with my dad on the phone, then a long drive in the country with the Long Suffering Floyd, admiring the architecture of the bare trees against the cloudless blue sky. Then, because Floyd's Jewish, the sacred Hebraic Tradition of spending the day at the movies, seeing An Education, the best film I've seen in six months.
What strikes me most - beyond my relief that it's not total garbage - is how much my process mirrors my personality. What I have right now is full of laughs and cleverness, crammed with ideas and lots of activity. What's still needed is the depth of heart and the clarity of purpose. The first is no surprise to me - I dig for emotion in my work, but usually with great resistance. Feelings frighten me. (To be fair, reconciling emotional truth with a flat-out farce is a difficult balancing act.)
What surprised me most, however, was how I lost sight of what my hero wants. How his goal gets obscured amongst all the activity. As I saw it on the page, making note to clarify it, I thought how I myself suffer from the same condition. I'm an ambitious person, but my goals can get a little fuzzy. And I'm easily distracted by activities along the way.
I know, realizing the your writing reflects who you are is a blinding flash of the obvious, but what surprised me was how my actual process reflects how I experience the world. That my shortcomings as a writer are my shortcomings as a person. Eventually I'll clear away the debris to show what Edward clearly wants. But it would be nice to be the kind of person who knows that to begin with.
Naturally, in my usual myopic obsession, I failed to post my defense of Scrooge last week. Anyone who's seen my play Holidazed knows how conflicted I am about the holidays, but I'm happy to report I had thoroughly lovely day, beginning with reading Christmas cards in bed, having a heart-to-heart with my dad on the phone, then a long drive in the country with the Long Suffering Floyd, admiring the architecture of the bare trees against the cloudless blue sky. Then, because Floyd's Jewish, the sacred Hebraic Tradition of spending the day at the movies, seeing An Education, the best film I've seen in six months.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Pissing off Randroids
My WalletPop piece about Ayn Rand is now pissing off Randroids and Greenspanners at the Huffington Post: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/12/08/ayn-rands-popular-again_n_384125.html
Monday, December 7, 2009
Hello, Interweb
I know, it's been over a month. Actually, more like a year, as I've been a reluctant blogger for all of 2009. I think what happened is that I burned out from posting daily in 2008, so I spent the first half of 2009 in the cave working on a new book, rewarding myself with a month-long adventure in LA. At that point I thought, now I'll start posting more regularly.
Then my mother coughed up blood.
I spent the next five months either caring for her and helping her prepare to die, dedicating whatever time I could find to write. The whole experience felt too private and painful to share online, so I pretty much opted out of the virtual world. I've been pretty absent from the real one, as well. I consider myself very blessed that she and I had the time together to finish her life and have been blown away by what a transformational experience it's been. It's a seismic shift, one that has already divided my life into before and after.
My mother passed away peacefully at home on November 15th. Her bravery in facing death was heroic.
I'm still reorienting myself and hope to share more of my life here in the future. I've discovered I'm not the kind of person who wants to document his every move, but I do value making a connection with others online, so I'm striving for some balance in the coming year.
Yours,
Marco
Then my mother coughed up blood.
I spent the next five months either caring for her and helping her prepare to die, dedicating whatever time I could find to write. The whole experience felt too private and painful to share online, so I pretty much opted out of the virtual world. I've been pretty absent from the real one, as well. I consider myself very blessed that she and I had the time together to finish her life and have been blown away by what a transformational experience it's been. It's a seismic shift, one that has already divided my life into before and after.
My mother passed away peacefully at home on November 15th. Her bravery in facing death was heroic.
I'm still reorienting myself and hope to share more of my life here in the future. I've discovered I'm not the kind of person who wants to document his every move, but I do value making a connection with others online, so I'm striving for some balance in the coming year.
Yours,
Marco
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
The Habits of the Rich and Thin
I think many writers write what we want to learn. Hence my latest piece on the Habits of the Rich and Thin.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Another Day, Another Dollar Store
Dollar Stores. Bargain bonanza or schemy marketing ploy? You decide.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Finale Ultimo
Spoiler alert - Mimi died. Again. I keep hoping it'll work out differently for her.
Watching Boheme I continue to marvel at Puccini's genius. His ability to capture the effervescence of youth, as well as its heartbreak - so masterful. It made me think about the interpretation of Father Own Lee, the opera expert often heard on the Metropolitan Opera Quiz. For Puccini chooses to end the opera with the melody from Colline's "coat aria," a seemingly odd choice given that he's a secondary character. But what Puccini seems to be saying is that the sacrifice Colline makes, the maturity that he exhibits, is the experience of all of the characters. That these young people are facing mortality for the first time, and they will never be the same again.
It's a quality I thought a lot about when I wrote Attack of the Theater People. Indeed, I often played my recording of Boheme when I was writing it. My work hasn't achieved anywhere near the depth, of course, but it's something to aspire to.
Addio, senza rancor.
Watching Boheme I continue to marvel at Puccini's genius. His ability to capture the effervescence of youth, as well as its heartbreak - so masterful. It made me think about the interpretation of Father Own Lee, the opera expert often heard on the Metropolitan Opera Quiz. For Puccini chooses to end the opera with the melody from Colline's "coat aria," a seemingly odd choice given that he's a secondary character. But what Puccini seems to be saying is that the sacrifice Colline makes, the maturity that he exhibits, is the experience of all of the characters. That these young people are facing mortality for the first time, and they will never be the same again.
It's a quality I thought a lot about when I wrote Attack of the Theater People. Indeed, I often played my recording of Boheme when I was writing it. My work hasn't achieved anywhere near the depth, of course, but it's something to aspire to.
Addio, senza rancor.
Act Three
Puccini is a friggin' genius. Not only is the music sublime, but he's sense of dramaturgy is so unerring. PLUS he has the good sense to write really short acts. Love that.
My two favorite moments in Act Three - one is interpretative, the other the work itself. The first was so simple. Mimi (Kelly Kaduce - got to get in the habit of using the singer's name - I'm typing too fast) is leaving. Weak with consumption, she reached for the gate, but misjudged the distance, faltering for a microsecond. I don't know if it was by accident or design, but it was so touching, so real, so human. It really broke my heart.
This is what I love about art. The tiniest detail can pack such a punch and be so eloquent. It reminded me of seeing Veronica Villaroel as Violetta at the Met. I don't remember a thing about her singing, but I'll never forget her tiny white feet hanging lifeless from beneath her nightgown. If you amortize the memory of those moments over a lifetime, the cost of one's theater ticket actually turns a profit.
The second moment was actually the libretto - three simple words. "Addio, senza rancor." Goodbye, without rancor. The dignity in that farewell, the courage and compassion. It brings tears to my eyes. This is what I'm striving for in my own work - to dig deeper into human behavior. To see that accomplished so simply, in just three words. That's poetry.
Lastly, as much as I'm appreciating the show, I also find myself thinking about Rent a lot and what an amazing job Jonathan Larsen did adapting Boheme.
My two favorite moments in Act Three - one is interpretative, the other the work itself. The first was so simple. Mimi (Kelly Kaduce - got to get in the habit of using the singer's name - I'm typing too fast) is leaving. Weak with consumption, she reached for the gate, but misjudged the distance, faltering for a microsecond. I don't know if it was by accident or design, but it was so touching, so real, so human. It really broke my heart.
This is what I love about art. The tiniest detail can pack such a punch and be so eloquent. It reminded me of seeing Veronica Villaroel as Violetta at the Met. I don't remember a thing about her singing, but I'll never forget her tiny white feet hanging lifeless from beneath her nightgown. If you amortize the memory of those moments over a lifetime, the cost of one's theater ticket actually turns a profit.
The second moment was actually the libretto - three simple words. "Addio, senza rancor." Goodbye, without rancor. The dignity in that farewell, the courage and compassion. It brings tears to my eyes. This is what I'm striving for in my own work - to dig deeper into human behavior. To see that accomplished so simply, in just three words. That's poetry.
Lastly, as much as I'm appreciating the show, I also find myself thinking about Rent a lot and what an amazing job Jonathan Larsen did adapting Boheme.
A word about the audience
I'm pleased to see the majority of the audience dressed up for opening night. I'm not saying you need to show up in a top hat in an opera cape, but there are people who show up for the theater in clothes I wouldn't wear to wash my car. That's so not okay with me.
Phew!
The opera told us we could "wear what you want, say what you want," but I must confess I was kinda worried what would happen if they show bit. Hey, it happens. With so many variable components, even the best opera companies can serve up a loser.
Well, no worries here. Not only is this Boheme utterly charming and dynamic, it's the best production of an Italian opera I've seen at Portland Opera. You see, these "spaghetti operas" are tough to cast. The fact is, guttural German or liquid French can hide a multitude of sins, as can modern music. But there's nothing to hide behind in Italian - you're wide open. And you've got to deliver the vocal goods.
And these singers do - in spades. When the Rodolfo held onto his high C it was like that Bugs Bunny cartoon where the singer holds the note forever. Except this guy didn't turn plaid.
Adding to the experience is the utterly disarming production. The singers all appear convincingly young and capture the frivolity of La Vie Boheme. I found myself grinning for much of the first two acts, except when I was tearing up. And I was especially happy that the Mimi played the role a little slutty. As a grisette, or seamstress, she would have been a woman of questionable reputation. But all too often she's portrayed as a simpering innocent twit. So it's an enormous relief to see this Mimi play the entire range of the character.
My only complaint thus far is that Maestro Allemandi allowed the tenor to take the optional offstage high C at the end of the act. As much as I enjoyed his high notes, I find the choice to be vulgar artistically. You could argue that Mimi and Rodolfo are ecstatic, but the spareness of the orchestra calls for tenderness, with her floating her high note while he harmonizes.
More at the next intermission...
Well, no worries here. Not only is this Boheme utterly charming and dynamic, it's the best production of an Italian opera I've seen at Portland Opera. You see, these "spaghetti operas" are tough to cast. The fact is, guttural German or liquid French can hide a multitude of sins, as can modern music. But there's nothing to hide behind in Italian - you're wide open. And you've got to deliver the vocal goods.
And these singers do - in spades. When the Rodolfo held onto his high C it was like that Bugs Bunny cartoon where the singer holds the note forever. Except this guy didn't turn plaid.
Adding to the experience is the utterly disarming production. The singers all appear convincingly young and capture the frivolity of La Vie Boheme. I found myself grinning for much of the first two acts, except when I was tearing up. And I was especially happy that the Mimi played the role a little slutty. As a grisette, or seamstress, she would have been a woman of questionable reputation. But all too often she's portrayed as a simpering innocent twit. So it's an enormous relief to see this Mimi play the entire range of the character.
My only complaint thus far is that Maestro Allemandi allowed the tenor to take the optional offstage high C at the end of the act. As much as I enjoyed his high notes, I find the choice to be vulgar artistically. You could argue that Mimi and Rodolfo are ecstatic, but the spareness of the orchestra calls for tenderness, with her floating her high note while he harmonizes.
More at the next intermission...
More fun facts
Just met a woman whose mother was a friend of Maria Callas's. Her mother kept candy bars in the freezer for when Callas visited. At first I thought she said Three Musketeers, which worried me because I was afraid I'd lose all respect for Callas. I mean, Three Musketeers? Those suckers are made of plastic and air.
But it turned out to Milky Ways, so it's okay.
But it turned out to Milky Ways, so it's okay.
Upcoming Opera News
I'm especially excited to be here tonight because, after a six year absence, I will actually be treading the boards in an opera once again, performing the role of the Glazier in the West Coast premiere of Philip Glass's Orphee.
I still don't know why Portland Opera asked me, but it's going to be totally fun and, frankly, the pay is excellent, particularly when you consider that I will sing a whopping six measures. Here's the crazy part - it's actually quite hard to sing. But I only have to learn one word, which I sing three times.
But I won't tell you what it is. For that you'll have to come to the opera.
I still don't know why Portland Opera asked me, but it's going to be totally fun and, frankly, the pay is excellent, particularly when you consider that I will sing a whopping six measures. Here's the crazy part - it's actually quite hard to sing. But I only have to learn one word, which I sing three times.
But I won't tell you what it is. For that you'll have to come to the opera.
Fun La Boheme Facts
There are a hundred people in the actual show - 48 in the chorus, 20 supers, 16 kids and 8 principals - plus the 68 in the orchestra and several dozen on the crew. What's known in math circles as a shitload of people.
Since Act Two takes place on the streets of Paris, every person onstage is either a seller or a buyer, meaning hundreds of props change hands and have to find their way back for the next performance.
I also learned that the used (or "dirty snow") gets reused on the ground so that only new, clean snow falls on the heads of the performers. And, no, there's no yellow snow. I asked.
We bloggers sit in the lobby before and after the show and during the intermissions, which is great because it means we don't have to make small talk.
Plus we get free drinks and cookies.
Since Act Two takes place on the streets of Paris, every person onstage is either a seller or a buyer, meaning hundreds of props change hands and have to find their way back for the next performance.
I also learned that the used (or "dirty snow") gets reused on the ground so that only new, clean snow falls on the heads of the performers. And, no, there's no yellow snow. I asked.
We bloggers sit in the lobby before and after the show and during the intermissions, which is great because it means we don't have to make small talk.
Plus we get free drinks and cookies.
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