Getting Stuff Done

That’s what today was about, since this past week, well, just wasn’t.

In the last week, all I managed to accomplish was ordering my postcards. Actually … they showed up in less than a week, and cost less than I thought. So, look at me: I have 250 postcards with my awesome logo!

But besides that …

A week ago, I had something of a freak out when I thought about all I needed to do, and how much I would need to spend (even though I received a bailout check), and (mostly) how I had no idea how to do any of it. From that point, I let many things get in the way of doing the many things I had to do. Eventually, I came to the conclusion, that while I may be a capable playwright, my producing skills were not up to par. And soon, the week was over and I was on the verge of losing another weekend.

Thankfully, I realized 1)I don’t want this play to suck and 2) I know some very helpful people: Mandy and Tim. And they said, yeah, you let a week go, but you can’t dwell on that or you’ll lose another. And so we made a list for the whole production—with deadlines (very important). And a list for today. And I sat down, and worked on checking things off.

Let’s consider this final one crossed off. A new list waits tomorrow.

Enter: the Actor

With a simple confirmation email from Mary, a critical piece of the puzzle—and the final member of the team—clicked into place. I had an actor. No ads posted, no phone calls, no auditions. We found someone within our circle, someone well-suited for the part.

On Wednesday last, Mandy and I met with Mary and Ryan at a bar in the West Village—purportedly Dylan Thomas’ favorite watering-hole. Simply, he had read the script and loved it. One more voice of praise—just what I need. And better yet, he’s excited to do it.

Matters under discussion at this creative production meeting: rehearsals—space and schedules; the bike—mechanics and staging; the script—memorizing and fluidity; and even costuming.

Fortunately, with such a small show, rehearsals should be rather straightforward and focused. They would begin the first week of April—by which point the script should be mostly memorized. Where the rehearsals will be held remains to be determined. We need to hash out suitable times, and find a place (or several places) which meets our traveling—and my financial—needs. And of course we need to consider schlepping around the bicycle.

Yes, always with the damn bike. However, we have several minds ready to tackle this problem, with the addition of Ryan. And it was refreshing to know that he read the script with the staging of the bike in mind. He offered a few suggestions and posed some questions as to the potential resistance felt while riding, and whether I had pedals of the clip-in variety (I do not, but they're something I should get a hold of since he’ll be bringing his own shoes). And while the staging dilemma remains, I still have technical problems to resolve in the meantime. Yeah, more grease and gears!

As we discussed our timetable, as well as their thoughts on the script—I believe the topic was its “memorizationability”—Ryan if asked if this was the final version. According to Mandy’s testimony, I looked at him as if “he had three heads.” I stammered something of a response. No, this was not a work in progress. Honestly, I’ve only read the script once since declaring it “final,” and only because I was bored and that’s all I had with me to read. Did it need work? Would something come up? The only thing I was rather sure of in this entire project was the script. (And considering my usual opinion of my work, this is an atypical turn toward confidence on my part.) So, memorize away. Nothing’s gonna change in the wording (the staging is another story), unless something sounds stupid. Oh wait. How does it sound exactly? We should have a reading.

"Mission Accomplished"

After a week of sitting around the apartment, I finally got my act together and assembled that bicycle.

In the same amount of time it took for the Maryland women’s basketball team to win the ACC championship, I cleaned (a little) and stripped down (just the annoying reflectors and such) the bike, then reattached the wheels. And as Kristi, Marissa, and the rest of the team took care of Duke in OT, I hooked the thing up to the trainer stand and took it for a spin. And so did Tim. We have a new toy, so of course we fooled around with it for the day.

During our joy rides, we primarily considered the noise of the machine, the stability, and its mechanics. Already, we’ve realized that while the trainer is a great stand for the bike and for an indoor workout, the device is probably too loud while spinning to actually use in the show. This brings us to the performance. The bicycle is rather stable. The actor should be able to move about comfortably and execute various cycling maneuvers and simulate turns and such. However, with no resistance on the back wheel, there is no resistance against the cranking of the pedals when you lean forward out of the saddle—as you would when climbing a mountain road. So, there’s that to be worked out. And then there are the gears that probably need to be tweaked to reduce their noise. And I’m pretty sure I’ll have to realign the rear wheel. Why didn’t I just set it correctly the first time? Oh that’s right, because I have no clue what I’m doing!

Regardless, we have the main prop. It’s not stage ready (or road ready, for that matter), but it’s in the living room. Now, time for everyone to begin a spin regimen.

The Spring of My Discontent, or April Will Be the Cruelest Month, or Yay! I Have a Director

Is anyone even reading this out there?

??

Never mind, allow me to press nobly on.

Following this week’s trend of good news for the production, the dinner went rather well. We stuffed ourselves on spinach and bacon quiche, vomited, forced down slices of delicious apple pie (I swear, like 4 or 5 apples per slice), and then promptly died. Conclusion: Mandy is one mad cook.

But food aside, the dinner focused on our guest, my new (and first and, hopefully, only) director, Mary—the newest member of the team founded around that core of maniacs known only as Triple Decker Productions. She read the script in the days before, and rather than being scared away from touching this project with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole, actually decided to come on board to skillfully mold the written word with her directing prowess. Or something like that. As if the validation of having my play selected for a festival wasn’t enough, now an honest-to-god director likes it. I’d say my head would be swelling, if my stomach still wasn’t already so bloated with various pies.

Between bites, I filled Mary in on my brief history as a playwright and the briefer history of this production, with my loyal team at my side once again. I failed to mention this web-log, but that aside, gave her the gist of what I’m trying to do. We discussed the limitations of the theater, the potential sound design (including voiceover recordings), and the rehearsal schedule and space—an especially important topic.

But the majority of the informal dinner meeting concerned the two largest problems for this play: the actor, and staging that damned bike for 45 minutes. As it turns out, Mary already floated my play past a talented actor friend of hers. Well done, Mary. Though not exactly as old as the character is supposed to be, he is a professional interested in parts for their intrinsic artistic qualities and is actually a spinning instructor in his spare time. We glanced at his website and resume, and gave Mary the greenlight to offer him the part. As of press time, I have yet heard back from Mary on the status the young man (by that, I don’t mean “Is he single?”), but I’m optimistic that this week will conclude with getting both a director and an actor.

And then there’s the matter of the bike, as always. Well, the brainstorming began and show’s no sign of stopping. We have the stand, but an entire show with the bike in one place will be rather, well … boring. So, we are determined to inject as sense of action—time and motion—into the play. And that’s why a director was necessary, for this exact challenge. And what a challenge. Projections, sound, lights, ramps, pedaling the bike around stage, shifting it around in blackouts, not even using a bicycle on stage at all (an idea, which I must admit, only elicited a glare from the playwright) … we’ll come up with something. Right? Right. We must. After all, we’re just Max Richter pedaling away up the slope.

… Straight into a Hedgerow

I had hoped to be writing this entry from the hard saddle of my new bike/trainer setup. Alas, I it was not to be. Don’t despair devoted readers, it is but a minor speed bump. Last night, I brought the frame, wheels, and trainer to assemble in my living room. The trainer took no effort to prepare, but when it came to the bike …

Well, let’s just say I’m less than mechanically inclined. I sort of missed out on the bike phase of my childhood. Yes, I had bike around age 10 and a suburban neighborhood in which to ride—including an expansive church parking lot—but I was not wont to follow the trails my father and siblings carved all over that town in their youth. I never even considered standing up on the pedals to go faster or up hills—the thought never crossed my mind. And then I moved. I attempted to continue to biking in a new neighborhood filled with steep little hills with five minute rides to friends’ houses. But between the dogs, the roads and shoulders unfriendly to cyclists, and outgrowing my basic mountain bike my time in the saddle regrettably ended. Needless to say, I am not a skilled rider. I follow passing businesswomen, messengers, delivery guys, and hipsters on their fixed gears with the same looks of jealousy I gave to the kids speeding across campus all those years at school. But let’s forget my unhealthy fixation on cycling and my unfulfilled childhood, and get back to the grease and gears.

As I understood it, I needed to remove the axle from the rear wheel and replace it with the axle skewer that fits in the trainer. So I took off the series of nuts and washers and pulled the axle from the rear wheel. Okay, step one—check. Now, let’s put the new axle in. Okay … Right. And now back on to the bike. Um… Nope. Let’s grab the chain and … oh, god. That’s a lot of grease. My hands are black. Great. Whatever. So the tire fits between the brake pads … and I have to hold the frame up with the other hand, and then crank the pedals, and mess with the derailleur, and fit the chain on the gear ring, and stick the axle there and try to screw it in … Do I have it? No, that can’t be right. Nope. Okay, off it comes.

So I removed the rear wheel and realized that I should probably have put back on all the washers and nuts I pulled off the other axle. Okay, I tried to line them up in the order in which I removed them, so this shouldn’t be so difficult, even though my hands are covered in god knows what … where’s that paper towel? Okay, axle’s in, one side of stuff back on and now—wait. This piece is still on the original axle rod. And it won’t come off. Time for the wrenches. I reach for the wooden toolbox I constructed as a Cub Scout (sitting around in my garage for 15 years, and it’s finally useful), and pull out a wrench or pliers or something. Then I go at it. Twist off. Twist off, dammit. Tim, let’s try this together. Argh. C’mon, you little … Nothing. No movement whatsoever. And the attempt to have this bike up and running in one evening stalls. For evidence of my misery and the dastardly part, the following (courtesy of Tim, my personal portraitist):

Being a tad impatient, I began a regimen of coating the offending part (Damn you to the depths of Hell!) in WD-40, waiting several minutes, then going at it again. Nothing. So I let it soak over night. And as my morning tea steeped … nothing. Okay. Time to consult reference material and go to the experts. So I stopped my “local” Manhattan library to check out a few bicycle maintenance guides to have on hand for the production. And once at I home (yes, I tried to pry the thing off as soon as I got in the door), I wrapped up my pieces and walked to the local (really this time) bike shop. As it turns out, due to their winter schedule, the shop is only open two days a week. And today is not one of them. Well, at least it was a nice day for walk.

Hmm…is that dinner I smell? No, wait, just the burning overflow of Mandy’s apple pie. Oh god, here comes the smoke … (more blogging to come)

Cruising the Flatlands …

Simply, much has gone well this week for the production—rather swimmingly, you might say. Okay, enough of my immodesty—time to go back to the usual self-deprecation and trepidation.

First, through family contacts, I have secured a source of cycling gear—for only the price of postage. Sweet. Eventually I’ll compile a list (well, for those of you who’ve read the script, the costuming is blatantly described in detail at the top of the play for the benefit for any shoe-string production of this play and to frustrate the talented imagination of an actual costume designer) of items—such as a racing jersey and shorts, shoes (a surprising matter of debate), sunglasses, a watch, and a helmet—and see what our friend, an actual cyclist, will let us borrow out of the goodness of his heart.

Second, I may have a director. Allow me to clarify. I have spoken to a director—who worked with Mandy on a past show—and she seems very interested in my project. I sent her the script on Monday, and tonight she will join us for dinner. Yes, that’s right: more theatre networking over food and booze. It never ends. It never should. So, expect an after-dinner post (Alert! 2 Pw0sts in 1ne day? No wai!) on the outcome of the meeting. I expect less-than-stellar spelling, but impeccable grammar. Can’t wait.

This week, the production team faced a deadline, today actually. The theatre requires a logo—an image with the play’s title and author (mine and me)—and “hook” of less than 30 words to display on their website and for whatever steps they take to publicize the festival (let’s hope they works). It was truly a team effort. While I wrote the enticing sentence, Tim created the logo with Mandy’s PowerPoint skills for the finishing touch. Take a look, I think we did pretty well:


Damn that’ll look good on a postcard. And remember, be sure to tell your friends (and strangers in the supermarket, why not?): "In King of the Mountain, an over-the-hill rider in the Tour de France struggles to reach the finish line—and win the race against himself." How ‘bout that for a hook? Yeah, that’s what I thought. They’ll be coming in droves. A cycling play that’s about more than bikes? Oh yeah, those New Yorkers are gonna eat it up. Get ready Manhattan—I’m bringin’ it.

Well, except for a bit of work tweaking our logo and hook, it’s been smooth riding this week. But did I mention the bike?

Update: Week 2 or … 3?

Though I do not believe there is a single reader of this web-log (a claim disproved by the lone comment on the first entry, written by what I must assume is an astute and articulate hip fellow who knows what is awesome when they see it and is not afraid to point that out. I thank thou.), I feel a certain pressure to post regularly. As you may be able to see, I have not held up this standard, though the production has been moving along. I would rather wait until enough events, anecdotes, or achieved goals have accumulated in order to produce a solid, substantive entry. But that’s not what you desperate monkeys want is it? Okay, then. Duly noted.

This week I focused on two goals: eliciting outside collaboration, and acquiring props. Let’s just say the more tangible of these goals came out for the better. First, the bad news (well, not bad per se, just inconclusive and somewhat disappointing).

In my spare time in the City, I visited bike shops soliciting donations for the play. I typed a nice letter of introduction explaining my situation and proposal—and even included a copy of my acceptance email to authenticate my story. (Yeah, since I just go around scamming bike shops out of money with a story about a play. Let’s just say my time would be better spent actually working.) So I hit up four shops in Chelsea after work. First, let me just say, I felt a tad uncomfortable walking into these places asking for money and talking about a play of all things. Or maybe I actually didn’t get any strange looks, but only saw what I wanted to see. Still, I just felt weird.

At the first store, they told me the guy to talk to was away on a business trip and wouldn’t be back for a few weeks (oh, how convenient). The second shop dismissed my idea as ludicrous in this economic climate. While they had helped races with certain supplies, the idea of a little shop on a deserted street in Chelsea giving out sums of money … well, I just left. The third shop, while not “just right,” did give my proposal serious thought. The nicest shop I would visit that week—a huge place with ridiculously expensive gear and gleaming bikes in glass cabinets, and a few friendly dogs roaming the premises—the guy listened to my spiel and took my packet in exchange for a card. Yes—a contact and a potential sponsor. A few days later, on the Upper West Side, I had a funny exchange with a few guys in a shop (something about one of them trying out for the role), and they actually gave me their card as well. So I’ve done some legwork, and now I’ll just have to see what comes of it.

Directors. Hmm, yes, I would like have a director by … yesterday. At the beginning of the week I asked for recommendations, and I received a few names; I contacted them, and … I’m still without a director. Time to be a bit more persistent it seems.

But now to the good news: teh b1ke. On a cold Wednesday eve, which would see the mighty Terrapins of Maryland fall to the lowly Duke Blue Devils on the basketball court, I trekked to a Crown Heights walk-up to purchase a trainer stand. Dogs and the smell of a delicious meal greeted me at the door. And thus I received instruction on operating the apparatus (a lot of nodding and “Oh, yeah, sure. Looks simple enough” from me—as if I know what they hell I’m doing). But the guy was really nice, and his guest interested in the production, so it was a pleasant experience all around—craigslist ain’t too bad. Well, then there was the trek back to Jersey. The trainer didn’t look so heavy and awkward to carry in the picture; and then of course there were the looks I got on the subway. I did survive, but I definitely will recommend carrying it into the City as little as necessary.

And as of this evening, we are in possession of a bicycle. Wheel-less though it may be, it is a major piece of the production, and a sign that the wheels are actually in motion. Can’t wait to put it together and take it for a spin … well, with my luck, I should probably wait until after the show. I can’t afford to damage the only prop, or myself for that matter. In the meantime, I can annoy my roommates with a spin on the trainer every morning at 6am. Actually, I think I stand a greater chance of bodily harm with this kind of regimen. Daylight hours it is, guys.