So Much For No Grand Metaphors

It could be said that the youth of America are shallow and unappreciative of true literary art, for the likes of visually stunning and sexually titillating material has become the main appeal for many of them to watch television or catch a movie. Many would argue that it is so often the case that a teenager buys his way into a flick just so that he may see a gorey torture scene or attractive actress, only to find that he’s also accidentally stumbled upon a literarily respectable plot with engaging characters as well. This may not even be exclusive to youth, as I’ve seen many a thirty-year-old (Okay, a few) with mouths agape in a blast-filled action movie. So is it a good thing that such bait is being used, as it is the only way to stimulate some people’s minds with a layered story? Well, I’m not really terribly interested in discussing that. My point, really, is that this cycle of dangling the shallow themes of plots (Examples being special affects and sex appeal, both of which are immediately visually rewarding, but don’t have the lasting rewarding effect that good stories do) is something which is generally frowned upon. It’s come to be known as selling out.
I used to agree with this idea, the notion that authors and directors and playwrights even, go for a cheap sell. But as I research the playwright/actor Sam Shepard, and think of his life and works in relation to the script that I plan on getting on its feet in the coming days, I am beginning to see that this “soft sell” is more an idea, an image, which captures an idea in the writer’s head.
I hope you’re still with me here; I know I don’t always make the most sense ever. But I have recently come to a realization: All of my more layered story ideas stem not from themes of human being, nor from delves into the psyche, but rather from shallow ideas. J-Verts and Koops know that my most recent story idea does have fairly developed characters. They are not completely fleshed out, but they are a start, and I would like to think that they are promising building blocks for a solid two-act play. Their interaction is somewhat compelling, filled with deceit towards one another and inward deceit, as well as reluctant affections which ultimately make the fruition of the plot all the more unbearable for those involved. I think I can safely call the plot as it is right now not shallow without sounding full of myself.
However, it did not start like this. My entire idea stemmed from “How cool would it be if 3 thieves robbed the same house, and like, clashed?” I was not so much interested in the characters as I was in their conflict. I was enthralled, like a child, in pure violence of three thieves pitted against one another. Only the actual act of outlining the plot brings about any sense of character in my stories. The characters come about, not by my choice, but by necessity. For, unfortunately, a play rarely happens well without characters. Because I did not plan for these characters to be in the plot, they are completely new to me when my pen touches paper, and I see them as if I were an audience with no previous knowledge. On this subject I then leave you with no didactic instruction or broad, intelligent connection, but rather a question: Can depth spring from shallowness? Does depth only ever spring from shallowness?
On the topic of Shepard, I do hold hope that my methods are tried and true, though not tried by me. A particular quote of his resonated with me: “…I don’t want to be a playwright, I want to be a rock and roll star. I want that understood right off…Writing is neat because you do it on a very physical level. Just like rock and roll. A lot of people think playwrights [have] special answers to special problems that confront the world at large. I think that’s a crock of shit. When you write a play you work out like a musician on a piece of music. You find all the rythyms and the melodies and the harmonies and take them as they come.

So much for theory.”

The level at which I relate to these statements is chilling to me. Shepard was fascinated by cliches such as cowboys and rock stars. He wrote handfuls of plays about modern or authentic cowboys, milking the idea of the showdown for all it was worth. In the way I was fascinated with clashing robbers, so I believe Shepard had been enveloped in his childhood fantasies of gunslinging outcasts who had a way with women and a quick draw for whoever wanted to meet him at high noon. Yet from these cliches he drew revolutionary characters and stories. I have had a long-time dream of being in a rock band someday. And not a band like you see mostly- One vocalist, one guitarist, one bassist, one drummer. I want to be in a band where everyone can do all of that and does do all of that. I want a band which is perfect blending.
Such is the nature of my ideal play. No character stands out as serving a particular role in the story, all are there to be the story, because the story turns out the same every time, and no matter how many bass intros or guitar and drum solos you have, the same song is being played the whole time. And the end of a play, just like when I get to the end of “Right Me Up” or “Flying Horses” is something brilliantly pretty and unexpected, but at the same time it all makes sense and you just see that it just couldn’t end any other way.

That would’ve been a great ending line…but I’ve got more to say.

Rockers jam, How do you jam as a playwright? You do what Sam Shepard did- You write plays literally by the dozen, you don’t rewrite unless you damn well feel like it, and you just keep writing until your whole life story is written out in your plays, told through different characters, and until everything that you ever wondered about is wondered about in every possible way by your choice cast. I agree that those “special answers” are a “crock of shit”. Good playwrights don’t try to fix the world at large, they try to fix their world, their person. And if someone in the audience wants to take that to mean we should pull out of Vietnam, good for them, the tool I used to clean my conscience is your tool for stopping bloodshed.
Most importantly, what I said about characters emerging to me for the first time is exactly what Shepard is saying about the melodies and rythyms emerging,and letting them emerge as they will. It’s like when the ancients invented the Pegasus Replicators- You build some little monomers, and before you know it you’ve got a beautiful city you hadn’t ever pictured.

Your frustrated musician,

-OSK

Except that it wouldn't be a city full of human-forms who wnated to kill you.

-OSK

It’s official- Live blogging will occur for both Sunshine and Galaxy. Likely hourly updates, so as to create a disgusting and completely unappealing (in its enormity) mass of posts. 14 days, and 32 days.

-OSK

The forty minutes spent on this post could’ve been better applied to my homework. Oh well.

-OSK

Sharkbelly jelly. Heh.