Clear as Mud; Or, Ahab Had It Easy, Further Adventures in the Writing Life

Photo courtesy of www.russianpoetry.net







Uggh. I tried reworking my play this morning. For those of you who have known me since forever began (or the last incident of glacial drift) you'll know of what white whale to which I am referring. My play/screenplay/novel, large allegorical balinoptera blanche, INTO CLEAR DARKNESS. The play, (if I may use my TV Guide version of it) is really two plays, one about a professor dying of AIDS who is working on his biography of the late great Russian poet, Anna Akhmatova. The second, smaller play within the play is the story of the poet's harsh and tragic life. The actors playing the characters in the professor's life also play the characters in Akhmatova's life. The professor and the poet are mirror images of the other. These are the stories of a man being removed from all he loves by illness, contrasted to the story of a woman who has everything and everyone she loves taken from her by war and the world around her. An internal and external examination of loss as it were, but not nearly so clinical.

Alright, maybe that's a little longer than TV Guide would have put it, but at least you know what's going on.

No, don't call me Ishmael, the name is definitely Ahab. I admit it, I've thrown so many pen-shaped harpoons into this thing that its starting to look like a terrorist attack at a Bic factory.

Let me see, I started writing this, oh dear God, it HAS to be about ten years ago at least by now. Its gone through several million drafts, and has had several readings, including one in NewYork City, staged by the ever versatile and lovely Marya Piffer DeVries. Its a long magnum opus that is in dire need of a dramaturg with a scythe. I try it intermittently, but after working so long on it, I lack perspective. Its one of those things where I know what I want to achieve, its just a struggle to get there. Its reception has been mixed. (George S. Kaufman was once asked what the term "mixed notices" meant when plays were reviewed. "It means good and lousey." said George.)

At the readings, some people adored the play, and some loathed it. I had one respected theatre friend tell me to just put it away in a drawer and forget about it and write something else. I have written other things, three other plays since then in fact, but this one, I just keep coming back to it. Its a maddening thought, because you're always left wondering; what if it's a good idea, but you just don't have the skills to bring it to fruition? What if it's a bad idea that just should never have been attempted? I've had so many people tell me so many different things, I'm quite hard pressed to know what to do with it, much less guess what form it should actually take. It started out as a play, but what if it's really a screenplay, or a novel? So you see, it's been a bit of a struggle. This week I've taken off in an attempt to deal with the beast. God knows how well I'll succeed. Que sera, sera, to quote Doris Day....

Now that I think about it, Ahab had it lucky. You can't very well MISS a white whale. They kinda stick out. This whale is shrouded in murk......