It’s been one year since I wrote a short script for the Stage North Groundlings’ first annual Ready, Set, Play! event. With another turn around the sun, I am happy to say that I once again had the honor to do the same for this year’s sophomore outing.
I wrote about that first experience here. Similarly, I decided to write about my process again for this year. Attached at the end of this essay will be my full script. If you are unfamiliar with the piece, I recommend you read it first then come back to read the rest of this article if you’re curious to see how the sausage was made.
Just the same as last year, I was asked to draw three prompts out of a hat: a “who,” “what,” and “where” that mandatorily be included in the script. They were, in order:
- Bill Murray
- A pair of snowshoes
- The Olive Garden
Contrasted from last year’s event, at this year’s Ready, Set, Play! directors were invited up on stage the Friday night-of, and they were the ones who then drew for actors. After casts had been drawn, the directors next randomly selected for whose script they would be working from. I was assigned a director who had participated last time. He had previously directed the script written by this year’s event’s coordinator.
“Trey, you are in good hands,” the coordinator assured me. I believe he was right. My director, Bill, exhuded confidence from the start. That kind of seasoned drive is what gets things done, and gets things done right. Happy belated Veterans Day, by the way.
Speaking of veterans, I was happy to know that in being partnered with Bill I would also of course be working with his cast, and chief among them in my mind at the time was an old co-star and friend, Laura, who had also played in last year’s event and had absolutely killed it–as I know she does always.
Also among my players was another, teen, actress (Josie) that had performed last year and whom I had worked with previously in the Stage North Groundlings’ production of The Nerd. She had a smaller, character role in that one, but I knew she took the work seriously so I was excited to have her as part of my team as well.
Then, there was an older actress, Allison, who had performed for Ready, Set, Play in a nominal “novice” performance. On an instinct, just to get a sense of things, I quickly asked her if she was ready for a larger role. She said that she was. Wonderful, wonderful.
Filling out the cast was a man of middle age, Matt. He was new to the theater, but had no problems with crowds or public speaking because of his work as a teacher. I asked him if that would mean he would prefer not to have a more “verbose” role. He said that was correct. Absolutely no problem. He had also recently burned his hand and didn’t know if it would be in working condition by the time they would go in about 24 hours’ time. This was a constraint I may have had to consider in crafting his character. Fine, no worries–I love a good challenge.
Bill the director also offered to play a bit part if need be, and after all that was out of the way the group next went on to discuss our cast’s other talents. The usual things came up (juggling, singing, all that sort of stuff), but this time around I was stuck particularly on accent ability. The discussion wasn’t as animated as it had been last time, but Allison, the older actress, mentioned her “New York” accent, and Matt readily exclaimed “bene!” at the mere mention of Italian. Laura, my old co-star and friend, stayed humble for this part of the talk, but I knew she had a few good voices, mainly varieties of British, at her disposal.
I had also asked about what kind of play it was that people wanted to be in. Bill, as an aside to some other topic later on, mentioned “hopefully it’s a comedy.” I felt the same.
Breaking off from the group, I next assessed the stage. This year’s event was black box; the stage would be bare except for what actors and directors could set themselves. The space was flat, save for a short series of stepped platforms in the upstage right. Something to consider.
I next made myself familiar with Stage North’s available props and costumes. I had by this point established with myself that I wanted to write a piece in a restaurant setting, considering faithfully the Olive Garden prompt. I took note of the available tableware, and while busying myself trying to find diving goggles and a snorkel (I had this image of Matt, as a waiter, diving into an offstage restaurant aquarium to address some sort of scripted fiasco), I came across the leftovers of the Stage North Groundlings’ recent production of Steel Magnolias. Colorful hair curlers, extravagant wigs and the absolute arsenal of beauty products had impressed themselves into mind.
Before I left Stage North for the night, I checked in with those of my team that had remained on site by the point. I asked about snowshoes. Perhaps the play was set in winter. Perhaps Matt’s character, addressing an outside emergency, would need a pair. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
From here on out, this story becomes a little bit about what this script didn’t turn out to be or, more precisely, how some of my original visions and ideas didn’t quite come to fruition. Restaurant settings can be tough, you see. As a principle, it’s important to keep your audiences as engaged as possible with your script. Lots of movement can help with that. If I was committed to it all taking place in a restaurant, then I would have to make up for the limited motion.
What quickly came to mind was that my three actresses would play a trio of obnoxious women. If they wouldn’t be moving so much, at least they could try to keep the audience laughing. I had considered things like a “server-beckoning bell brought from home” and a plot line featuring the abuse of the Never-Ending Breadsticks promotion at Olive Garden. I had this idea that the three women were blood-sisters, a striking image given the generational disparities between them each in age. I knew also that while at this restaurant, I would want at least one of these sisters to be making constant guesses as to a fellow patron’s (unseen to the audience) celebrity identity. This offstage character may or may not turn out to be Bill Murray. By this time in the night I had not yet decided.
Before committing to any serious writing, I first met with my friend Jon to brainstorm further. Jon’s a fellow creative with time spent in Hollywood. Providing him with what I had thus far come up with, he had given me some old Bill Murray legends to maybe work in as material. We also noted the more feasible Bill Murrary celebrity lookalikes.
When discussing the characters and their overall relationship to each other, Jon suggested a “server revenge” story (in one image, Matt was throwing breadsticks back at the women). It made sense, of course: as another principle, it’s good to have somebody the audience wants to root for and gets to see win. That’s what I was setting myself up for if I were to pursue the obnoxious sisters angle, anyway. But it wasn’t sitting right for me. The waiter just wasn’t going to be one of the stronger characters–I wasn’t ready to do that to my least experienced performer.
I next met with my friend Sam, also a creative personality. He and I share a lot of tastes and sensibilities, so it was with him when I really got into the meat of the thing. It was by this point that a title had formed in my head, the lyrical and amusingly prolix The Sisters Rutherford’s Second Annual Memorial Dinner to their Father. I had asked out loud to Sam questions like: what is the conflict? What are the sources of conflict between the characters? I had thought that perhaps one of the sisters had gone away from home, coming back so changed a person that it caused a rift between the siblings. I also considered the personalities of my own three step-sisters, trying to find inspiration in how they contrast and complement each other.
Merely as a means to fill out the script with more jokes, I decided that the sisters would be gathering in memory of their mother and had changed the title thusly. Given the extreme differences of age between the actresses, I thought maybe conjuring the image of an impressively geriatric pregnancy for the audience would be something to keep their interest.
Sam has also had years of experience as a server, and we exchanged a few mishap scenarios that could occur to keep the pace going for the script. This got me thinking of a sketch that I’ve long had gestating in my thoughts: Small Town Fancy Restaurant. Quite a bit of the frame of The Sisters Rutherford’s is based on that of Restaurant, but just enough is left to the original where should I ever come to have it produced I wouldn’t feel like I’m repeating myself. Something for you to look forward to, dear reader.
There was still the issue of what the play was about. It’s very important to me that my work feature some sort of lesson or moral that audiences can take home with them. I want to enrich people’s lives, not make them feel as though their time has been wasted. This is one of my chief creative principles, and coming to recognize this for myself yet again pushed me even further away from the farce of the three obnoxious sisters. I just couldn’t find its soul.
Also to consider still was the concept of medium optimality, imparted to me from the influence of Watchmen. What I was writing was a play–what qualities are unique to plays that I could exaggerate or touch upon to make this as specific of an experience as possible, one nigh uninterpretable to any other art form? From there came the discussions with Sam about a meta plot line.
That stuck. One way to rouse up interest out of the audience would be to lull them into this false sense of understanding of the reality of the play-world, only to disrupt that with varying degrees of fourth-wall breaking. A line about the Israel-Palestine conflict that made its way into the final script (inspired by a remark from Sam) is my favorite example of this. One sister asks the other if she “wants to ruin everyone’s night” by bringing up the subject. Textually, it makes sense that the sister is considered for the sensibilities of the other restaurant-goers. Sub- and metatextually, it would refer to the discomfort of the audience as they would hear this very real, very uncomfortable, topic brought up at their lovely outing to the theater. No one is safe.
This was a lot to work with. Having all of this material, but still without much of a story or lesson to learn, I set off for home where I would commit something to type. There would be no further discovery in brainstorming; what the piece would come to be now could only be found in writing it.
And so I did. From one simple set up, The Sisters Rutherford’s Second Annual Memorial Dinner to their Mother poured out of me from around 11 pm through to 4 am the next morning–with promises made to myself that I would come back to it after the first draft to punch it up with some humor. I couldn’t do it, unfortunately. This year I was just too damn tired.
I’ve been exhausted lately. Tested, even. There have been health issues. Relationship woes. Creative opportunities stalling, and others coming up and filling out my schedule, distracting me from passion projects and labors of love. The only constant throughout it all has been change.
Change. What can be changed, what can’t be changed. It seemed to be a fitting subject for a family-centered story. How do we handle change, or the refusal of others to take it on themselves? Addressing these questions was what ultimately became central to The Sisters Rutherford’s. I can’t say with any certainty if I put together anything novel or astute on the matter. That’s ultimately not for me to decide. Maybe this story could serve then as just a simple reminder: to accept life at whatever pace it greets you at. To take on change or lack thereof happily, perhaps even gratefully.
One type of change is the break-up of tradition. I was instructed, same as last year, to include overt references to my prompts in my script. I’ve written a lot today about principles, conventions. Art, at its most daring, has oftentimes defied such rules. If done right, it can serve the artist well.
I think it did here. Without further ado, following the prompts of “Bill Murray,” “a pair of snowshoes,” and “the Olive Garden,” I present to you my original script The Sisters Rutherford’s Second Annual Memorial Dinner to their Mother unedited and in full:
The Personal Blog of Trey Sorensen 