Lean on a Gulf Islander (play) by Leanne Dyck Act I

is about living on a remote island.

"Easing into Autumn"

photo by ldyck

 

Act 1

Stage directions: KJ and Aster stand on the opposite sides of the stage. They each hold a cell phone.

ASTER: You've been on that island so long? Help me understand why you are drawn to remain there.

KJ: I told you it offers the peace and quiet I need to conduct my research. Look, if you've phoned to complain I'm hanging up right now. Click.

ASTER: No, wait, KJ, I need you. Something horrible has happened.

KJ: What is it? (waits for her to continue) How can I help you if you don't tell me what happened?

ASTER: I've been forced to take early retirement.

KJ: You've been what?

ASTER: I've been fired, okay? I've been fired. Oh, please, don't make me elaborate further on the phone.

KJ: No, of course not.

ASTER: Dismissal from my teaching position was in no way my fault. I was forced to act to save my student. Everyone had shirked their responsibility--his former teachers, his parents, everyone--so it fell on me. He would have become a hoodlum if I didn't bring discipline. But instead of praise...they...they... And now every time I step out of our house there they are judging me. I simply can't stay here one second longer.

KJ: You could join me on Mayne Island but I'm sure you won't. You've made that clear so many times. What is it you say, it'll be a cold day in...

ASTER: (interrupting) Oh, I was hoping you'd suggest that.

KJ (lowers the phone to his foot, stomps)

ASTER: What was that?

KJ: Oh, nothing. A spider hit the floor.

ASTER: They're--

KJ: (interrupting) Big? About the size of my hand. But that's small compared to slugs. I saw one yesterday that was as long as my arm. But they just leave a slimy trail. They're not vicious.

ASTER: Well, that's g--.

KJ: (interrupting) Now raccoons, they're nasty. But you'll soon learn not to go out at night. And you'll get used to the isolation.

ASTER: But the ferry--

KJ: (interrupting) When it runs; if there's room.

ASTER: Will take me to the island this coming Thursday.

KJ: I'll be there to pick you up.

ASTER: See you soon. I love you.

KJ: Right. Same.

(they both hang up)

KJ (leans back in a chair, looks relieved) (to audience): She'll never come to the island.

ASTER (drops shoulders, looks depressed) (to audience): I can't stay here. Eyes, everywhere, judging me.

Next Sunday...

Lean on a Gulf Islander

Act II

Why doesn't KJ want Aster to visit him on Mayne Island?

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Writing a Play by Leanne Dyck

How, why, when and where I wrote a play--including writing tips.

photo by ldyck

 

Writing a Play

In 2014, Mayne Island Little Theatre invited submissions of short plays with an island theme.

I knew I would accept this opportunity to support my favourite theatre group and to flex my writing muscles but…

-I’d never written a play before

-What would I write?

-Could I finish writing my play in time to meet the submission deadline? It was only a few weeks away.

-I was working on so many writing projects could I add one more?

As I searched for answers, I kept returning to my newly finished novella. It had strong dialogue and action. Inspired, I set to work transforming the novella into a short play.

One of the scenes was set on a ferry and another in a car. I gnawed on that for a while. Building a set wasn’t an option. However, two chairs could become a car and three could be a ferry.

One of the characters needed to share internal dialogue with the audience. A friend suggested the use of gestures and facial expressions. That would help but it wasn’t enough. A solution was found when I learned about the theatrical device known as an aside.

My pen flew and soon I’d adapted part of the novella for the stage.

Seeking feedback, I shared my play with my writing group. As other members were also working on plays, we decided to workshop them. My play was further strengthened when I requested my husband's feedback. Revisions followed and then I submitted my play. Waiting to hear if my play had been selected was stressful, but on one seemingly ordinary day, I received an email congratulating me. My play had won its spot on stage.

Some playwrights are adamant that the actors speak the words they’ve written. However valid, this wasn’t my approach. With my encouragement, the actors suggested dialogue changes and I happily made revisions. In fact, working together, we added a sixth scene.

What I learned about playwriting

-Fall in love with the story

-Vital ingredients: strong dialogue and action

-An aside and a soliloquy are excellent ways to convey a character’s thoughts on stage. 

-Once the play is written it is extremely helpful to gather feedback.

-A playwright writes a play. A director interprets this play for the actors. Actors breathe life into the characters. And so, my play becomes our play and then their play. I’m glad I had the foresight to realize this eventuality as I was able to prepare myself for the roller coaster of emotions that came with the transitions. 

During this approximately two-hour event, readings by the authors were interspersed between a series of questions. These are some of the answers that I heard...

Read archives to absorb the language of the time

There's someone out there right now who needs your words.

Write for yourself first; share it; if it connects with others great.

I write to honour the "more than human" (everything that isn't human)

If you have to deal with annoying people, tell yourself you're doing research for your next book.

When someone says something cool write it down and steal it for your next book.

It's not the idea. It's what you do with it. Any idea can be pursued.

You have to be ready for the idea and the idea has to be ready for you.

The hardest thing about writing is the business of writing.

Next Sunday

Learning to Walk (short memoir) by Leanne Dyck

 When did you learn to walk?

I remember that day so clearly but... Is this my memory or my mom's?

May 1963

The day I learned to walk.

Learning to Walk

    "You were eighteen months old when you learned to walk."

    "Mom, that's so late. Most babies learn to walk around their first birthday. Weren't you concerned that there was something wr--?"

    "Oh, you could walk if you held our hands or the furniture. You just weren't brave enough to let go. But the day you turned eighteen months, your brothers were determined you would learn. They set up four stacking stools, end to end, down the centre of the living and left a gap between the last stool and the sofa. One of your brothers--I can't remember which one, it doesn't matter--held your hands and guided you to the first stool in the row. You grabbed hold and he joined the rest of us on the sofa. 

"With our encouragement, you started on your way--walking the length of the stool and grabbing for the next. Stool after stool until you walked the length of the last stool. You stood there facing us.

"And when you finally let go and walked... Well, such cheering. I'm sure they heard us one town over.

"I always knew you would walk. You just needed a reason. Your brothers, they gave you that reason."

Learning to Stand

Leanne Dyck

Before I could crawl,

I never dreamed I could walk

People carried me and

I was content in their arms

A few minutes ago I was in the Mayne Island library listening to a panel of writers discussing writing. I took notes and look forward to sharing them with you in the near future. 

Next Sunday...

Publish Me (short story) by Leanne Dyck

photo by ldyck

Have you ever felt like this?

Publish Me

We authors meet in small groups to whisper and giggle about all the handsome publishers.

Some of us are captivated by small-town charm. These publishers don't have much money but treat their authors well. You can tell, even from a distance, that there's a real love there.

Everyone notices when he walks into the room. We all smile wider. Some of us are even brave enough to wave. He calls these authors over. "Do you have something you would like me to read?"

I see the author blush as she slips her manuscript to him. I see the hope in her eyes.

I have hope too. So when he calls me over, I give him my best manuscript. I've been saving it for him. I feel proud--like a real author when he flips from page to page. Halfway through my manuscript, he stops reading and looks at me with a twinkle in his eye, "You've got talent."

I feel his words wrap around me like a hug. 

"Come back when you're more experienced." He hands back my manuscript.

Later, I see him, his arm draped over his newest author, and I try not to cry. Will my writing ever be pretty enough?

Where all the cool kids are going...

Free

Writers on Mayne Island Panel Discussion

Sunday, August 11 at 2 pm

Mayne Island Library

Mayne Island, BC, Canada

Featuring Faye Roth, Danielle R. Graham, Pam Withers, 

Amy Reiswig, Lee Beavington & Eden Buday

Pre-registration encouraged

Email: mipl@shaw.ca

Next Sunday...

Learning to Walk (short story)

about the day I learned to walk

More...