musical theatre writers' resource center NEWSLETTER

UPCOMING CONTEST DEADLINES

• Theatre Bay Area Grant Programs – Ca$h Workshops (October 25)
  https://www.theatrebayarea.org/page/cashgrants
• U.S. Dept. of State Fulbright U.S. Student Program at the Institute of International Education (October 26)
  http://us.fulbrightonline.org/applicants/getting-started
• The Reva Shiner Full-Length Play Competition (October 31)
  https://www.nycplaywrights.org/2020/08/reva-shiner-comedy-award-2021-2022.html
• Mildred and Albert Panowski Playwriting Award (November 1)
  https://nmu.edu/theatreanddance/playwritingcompetition
• Francesca Primus Prize (November 1)
  https://americantheatrecritics.org/primus-prize/
• Premiere Stages Play Festival (November 1)
  http://www.premierestagesatkean.com/play-festival
• Richard Rodgers Award for Musical Theater (November 1)
  http://artsandletters.org/awards/richard-rodgers-award/
• Tennessee Williams/New Orleans Literary Festival One-Act Play Competition (November 1)
  http://tennesseewilliams.net/contests/
• Kitchen Dog Theatre (KDT) New Works Festival (November 9)
  https://www.kitchendogtheater.org/nwf-25
• Last Frontier Theatre Conference (November 15)
  http://www.theatreconference.org/play-lab/play-submissions/

*** Visit the RESOURCE CENTER to see the full listings ***

SAMPLE PUBLIC DOMAIN IDEAS

EXCERPT:

A Young Ostrich came to its Mother, groaning with pain and with its wings tightly crossed upon its stomach.

“What have you been eating?” the Mother asked, with solicitude.

COMMENTS:

Sardonic. Cynical. Fun.

EXCERPT:

Suddenly he stood still. Would she have any black to wear? He had thought of a joke before which all other jokes he had ever thought of were small and sick. Suppose he were to take himself out of the way and then they didn’t get the things they thought they’d have in place of him? He walked on fast–fast and crafty, picking his way among the smaller stones in between the giant stones in a fast, sure way he never could have picked it had he been thinking of where he went. He went along like a cat who is going to get a mouse. And in him grew this giant joke. Who’d give them the fireless cooker? Would it come into anybody’s head to give young Joe Doane a sail-boat just because his father was dead? They’d rather have a goat than a father. But suppose they were to lose the father and get no goat? Myrtie’d be a mourner without any mourning. She’d be ashamed to go to the cemetery.

He laughed so that he found himself down, sitting down on one of the smaller rocks between the giant rocks, on the side away from town, looking out to sea.

He forgot his joke and knew that he wanted to return to the sea. Doanes belonged at sea. Ashore things struck you funny–then, after they’d once got to you, hurt. He thought about how he used to come round this Point when Myrtie was a baby. As he passed this very spot and saw the town lying there in the sun he’d think about her, and how he’d see her now, and how she’d kick and crow. But now Myrtie wanted to go and visit him–in the cemetery. Oh, it was a joke all right. But he guessed he was tired of jokes. Except the one great joke–joke that seemed to slap the whole of life right smack in the face.

COMMENTS:

This is an amazing story, and could make for a very strong play along the lines of Arthur Miller. When a shipwreck takes the life of an immigrant’s family’s breadwinner, the government steps in and helps, as does the entire community. The cumulative acts of kindness and charity begin to rankle the head of the family next door, when the immigrants start having things which HIS family can’t afford. He begins to feel useless, and worth less than the goat which the government has provided the immigrant family. There’s a building sense of tragedy throughout the story, as in a Steinbeck novel. Some of the politics are dated, and you’d probably need to find a substitute for the actual physical goat (which might prove problematic as the goat is also a plot point), but this story is well worth your examination. It’s exciting fodder.

EXCERPT:

To judge from his look of surprise when he found himself in the room, Herr Kristensen was struck, as Anderson had been, by something unusual in its aspect. But he made no remark. Anderson’s photographs interested him mightily, and formed the text of many autobiographical discourses. Nor is it quite clear how the conversation could have been diverted into the desired channel of Number 13, had not the lawyer at this moment begun to sing, and to sing in a manner which could leave no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was either exceedingly drunk or raving mad. It was a high, thin voice that they heard, and it seemed dry, as if from long disuse. Of words or tune there was no question. It went sailing up to a surprising height, and was carried down with a despairing moan as of a winter wind in a hollow chimney, or an organ whose wind fails suddenly. It was a really horrible sound, and Anderson felt that if he had been alone he must have fled for refuge and society to some neighbour bagman’s room.

The landlord sat open-mouthed.

‘I don’t understand it,’ he said at last, wiping his forehead. ‘It is dreadful. I have heard it once before, but I made sure it was a cat.’

‘Is he mad?’ said Anderson.

‘He must be; and what a sad thing!

EXCERPT:

“Do you come over often?” he inquired casually.

“Just to shop,” she said shyly. She had great brown eyes and the pathetic kind of little mouth. “I’ve only been married three months, and we find it cheaper to live over here.”

“Does he–does your husband like your being alone like this?”

She laughed, a cheery young laugh.

“Oh, dear me, no. We were to meet for dinner but I must have misunderstood the place. He’ll be awfully worried.”

“Well,” said Samuel disapprovingly, “he ought to be. If you’ll allow me I’ll see you home.”

She accepted his offer thankfully, so they took the cable-car together. When they walked up the path to her little house they saw a light there; her husband had arrived before her.

“He’s frightfully jealous,” she announced, laughingly apologetic.

EXCERPT:

Based on the early life of Gautama Buddha.

*** Visit the PUBLIC DOMAIN IDEAS to see the complete stories ***