Showing some skin

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Every novel, play or screenplay begins with an idea. A character, a moment, an issue begging to be explored. It gets you thinking, pondering, mulling… and you’re off… Sometimes you fly. Others you stumble.

Well, when I started out I stumbled. A lot.

Many of those stumbles were but a cloudy memory until a few weeks ago when I received an email from an editor in a university theatre department. She asked me a question that got me pulling out my writing archives and reflecting on where I succeeded, where I fell down, and why.

To explain, I start with a Canadian Theatre History moment:

SOUND EFFECTS: Haunting call of a loon in the distance. Rocks. Trees. Water. CN Tower.

NARRATOR: Way back in 1981, a guy named Urjo Karedo was appointed Artistic Director of Tarragon Theatre in Toronto.  At a time when most Canadian theatres were folding, Tarragon thrived under his direction.

Every night Urjo took home one of the plays sent in by a hopeful playwright. The next morning he typed the playwright a letter about their play. In these letters he asked scorching questions, pointed out embarrassing gaps and disconnected details. Over the twenty years he read and replied to 1.5 plays per day or almost 5,000 plays.

The editor contacted me because she is compiling a selection of Urjo’s letters into a book. One of the four letters Urjo wrote to me might be included. The editor had never seen the play I wrote, so she wanted some context to understand the letter.

Off I went, digging out the boxes, dusting them off and re-reading. Here is a synopsis for that play Eye am Hear. 

Set in a dystopian future where people interact solely through computers, the play features Tamara, a teenager who ran away to join a street gang that rejects technology. At the start of the play two masked men drag Tamara into a dark warehouse and chain her to the ceiling. A computer screen lights up and a keyboard on a table rolls across the room to her. “Log on, Tamara” says the screen. She refuses. Over the course of 3 days, her captors attempt to convince her that she is the victim of a cult as she struggles to differentiate the facts she knows from the convincing fictions they weave. Their story is simple: technology is the essential power. Without it, she is in fact, not even alive.

Eye am Hear was written and produced in pre-internet 1992. It attempts to answer the question, What do our technologies do to us? 

The play was produced as part of a festival about technological literacy called Words in a Heard. This festival featured several short plays, an art installation and my play Eye am Hear as the centrepiece. After the festival and some re-writes, I sent the script to Urjo hoping for a second production, or at least a response and an invitation to his playwright development unit.

What’s interesting about reading his response so many years later is that he misses one really, super-duper important piece. It’s a point that you should be able to pluck out without reading the play.

So, here’s an idea: read the letter below. Pretend you are the writer receiving it. Write your ideas about what’s missing from it in the comments below. Next week I’ll post what I would write to the younger me.

Colleen Subasic letter B21 F10

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3 thoughts on “Showing some skin

  1. I feel like I’m missing something. He is writing about the play as a one person show, your description is of interaction between a captive and the computers (and captors). I don’t think that the letter is about your play.

    • That’s a great observation. It was a one person play. The captors communicated through slides, like instant message. So, although there was only one person on stage, there was interaction.

  2. Pingback: Is all feedback useful? | c.m. subasic

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