By
Laura P. Valtorta
My
writers’ group (SCWW Columbia II) is filled with a bunch of solipsistic
pseudo-intellectuals who think they know more than the next guy – especially
the guy sitting next to them at the writers’ group. It’s horrifying. Even the
African-American members seem too White. A meeting is likely to give you mental
snow blindness.
But
the group is fun, and I fit in. I love eating at Casa Linda with these clowns.
Another
good thing that happens is when I bring in ten pages of a screenplay and other
writers take on the various roles of my characters. Reading your own stuff
aloud is helpful. You grow a third ear. When somebody else reads your stuff to
the group, your errors shine bright like Swedish fish jellybeans.
I
think we should mix things up. Once a season, exchange pages with each other at
the beginning of the meeting and prevent each writer from reading aloud her own
work. I’d love to hear Rex pound out some of Bonnie’s poetry in that sarcastic
staccato of his. Let Bonnie tackle the corpses piled “as high as a house,” and
Rex read about wrestling with religion in the New South. It would be fun to
hear Kasie shoot everyone in sight in post-Civil-War Texas and Mike lecture us
about death-defying vampires. I’d like to listen to Ginny read about golf and
Fred tell us stories about living with a disability. Just once.
Writing
a stage play or a screenplay is miraculous because, eventually, others read
your words. Like the experience of the Marquis de Sade in the movie Quills,
hearing the mentally ill read your work and change it – consciously or
unconsciously— often improves the writing. We are, after all, writing for others.
The purpose is to convey a message. However solipsistic we might be, we are
attempting to communicate what makes us human.
On
April 9, 2016, a group of actors (experienced and new) will be reading my stage
play, Bermuda, at Tapp’s 1644 Main Street). The show starts at 6 p.m.
Everyone is invited; it’s an absurd comedy filled with messages.
I
am no actor. Although I want to read with more expression, I still need to
practice and learn. Right now, I hear myself sounding like dry oatmeal.
Listening to my play being read by professionals is a learning experience. The
same could be true of fiction, non-fiction, and poetry.
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