The little white envelope of rejection

Grant denied.


I'm not surprised, really, that my application for an arts grant has been denied -- I was applying for money to help convert my Christmas novella into a stage play and both my proposal, and my writing career, seemed just a little too multi-disciplinary for the arts board and its jury.


I knew that going in. I knew that the rules of the grant program were such that it would be much easier to establish oneself as a professional writer, and to obtain funding for a future project, by focusing one's work in a single genre of writing. That approach to life, however, just doesn't suit me and my career.


I am a writer of literary works (as opposed to poetic or theatrical works) primarily but I am also published poet, a news and magazine writer, an author of text books and a script writer.


And my proposal attempted to bridge two genres -- literature to theatre.


No go, they said. No cash for you.


I saw the envelope in the mail and I thought, "There it is, my first arts grant rejection letter."


And yet I still felt a little pang of disappointment when I opened the envelope and found those sad sad words: "We regret to inform you..."


Arts grants are important to writers in a number of ways. First, there's the money. Non-writers don't seem to understand the fact that writing costs money. Many people think writing just happens but writers know that there's a lot of money invested when you really want to focus on your writing: you need the materials and equipment, you need to make the effort necessary to do the required research (which often involves travel), you need to take time away from your life (work and home life). All of these involve money, either money spent or money not earned.


But money isn't the only thing of value an arts grant provides a writer. An arts grant, awarded as it is by a recognized body through a juried process, is also a sign of acceptance, of legitimacy, or recognition that you have established yourself as a professional writer.


It's not quite the same as getting your work accepted by a publication or publisher, sure, but it is an important badge of legitimacy, one that can lead to further arts grants potentially to the publication of your work.


I will apply again. I've learned from this experience and I will apply what I've learned to my next grant application. And I think I will stand a better chance of winning a grant because of it.


But that little pang of disappointment still lingers.

Basking in the glow of honest, constructive criticism

It doesn't happen often but, every once in a while, something you have been looking forward to actually lives up to and even surpasses your expectations.

That's how I am feeling about my much anticipated meeting with Ryan Griffith, Artistic Producer with Next Folding Theatre, and screen writer Nancy Lynch that took place today in a coffee shop across from my place of work.

Did Ryan hug me and declare me the best playwright since Anton Chekhov or William Shakespeare? No.

Did he tell me my first draft of the stage version of A McAdam Station Christmas was a masterpiece on the order of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead? No.

Did he tell me he plans to produce my play as written and expects us all to become multimillionaires on the basis of ticket sales and movie rights? No.

Did he give me lots of great information and guidance on how to make my play better and make kind, supportive comments that implied I am not a complete hack who should hang up his keyboard?

Yes. Yes he certainly did.

And Nancy, who is my partner in crime on this little venture, was equally supportive and insightful. Ryan offered me a full year's worth of lessons on how to write a successful play. Nancy helped me to understand how to apply those lessons specifically to the Abigail story.

I have to admit, I'm feeling a bit stunned at the moment. Stunned that Nancy, an accomplished screenwriter and film creator, has taken such a supportive interest in this little project. So much so that she has agreed to take the lead on it and on our web series proposal.

And stunned that Ryan was willing to take time out of his busy (and clearly productive) schedule to read my novella and the draft play and then sit down with us for more than an hour to share his thoughts, insights and suggestions on how to make it better.

I have come away from this meeting inspired, excited and with a large pile of home work. Step one of the homework is to read Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard, to get an idea of how a master handles both the medium and the structure of a three-act play. That should be no problem: we have a World's Classics collection of five plays by Chekhov on our bookshelf and I'm ready to start reading.

My second task is to re-imagine the basic themes of my original story in stage terms, to find ways to tell the same story but in a different, more theatre-oriented way.

Ryan proved to be an excellent, knowledgable teacher. He kindly said that he found enough in both the novella and my writing to suggest that I could write a successful play. He also kindly agreed to read the next draft that I produce, even if it doesn't make an appearance for several months.

I think most writers suffer from a lack of useful, honest, knowledgable criticism of their work but, thanks to Ryan and Nancy, I am glad to be able to say that my suffering has been abated. At least for now!

Honest criticism is an honour to receive

I wrote the other day about some of the possibilities that have arisen with regard to one of my ongoing writing projects: the Abigail Massey at McAdam Station series of short stories for kids.

At least I think I wrote about them.... oh well, if not, bear with me. Or should that be "bare with me"? No, that sounds a bit rude.

One such possibility is the opportunity to adapt my Christmas novella, A McAdam Station Christmas, into a stage play. Now, I'm not a playwright by any means. I wrote a couple of one-act plays way back in my youth but writing for the stage is not something I consider to be among my talents.

When a screen-writing colleague at work suggested, however, that I consider such a project, I jumped at the chance. I thought, "Why not?" and "It would be great if it worked out!" and "Holy crap, did I really just agree to this?"

But how does one go about converting a novella into a play?

With no clue how to proceed, I did what I always do in such situations: I took the process step by step.

First, since plays are all about dialogue, I stripped most of the exposition from the story, leaving only the dialogue itself and just enough "stage direction" to make it make sense.

Second, I re-reviewed the resulting draft script with the strengths and limitations of live stage in mind. I reduced the number of characters, for example, by eliminating unnecessary scenes and, in at least one case, having a major character take on the functions and dialogue of a minor character. I also reduced the number of sets required, by identifying three or four major locations and then relocating all scenes that had been set elsewhere in the novel into one of these locations.

The result was fine, I guess, but I strongly suspected that, well, although it looked like a play on paper, it didn't really have the shape and structure of a play. At that point, I was stumped as to what to do next.

My colleague came to the rescue. She investigated local theatre groups, identified one to which she felt the play was best suited in theme and audience, and approached its artistic director to discuss my play.

To my amazement, the director not only agreed to read the play, he also agreed to meet with us to give us feedback!

So tomorrow morning I sit down with my colleague and a real live theatre man to talk about the Abigail play.

He warned us that he intends to be blunt and honest in his "notes" on the play draft -- I guess he's had too many bad experiences with egotistical writers who don't like to hear criticism -- and I find myself actually quite delighted to hear that.

I have no fear of criticism. In fact, sometimes I think struggling writers get much too little criticism of their work. Strike that -- I strongly believe that very few struggling writers get enough honest criticism of their work.

And, as someone who knows that play writing is NOT my strength, I am really interested to hear what he has to say about how I can improve the Abigail play.

To be honest, I'm quite honoured simply by the fact that he read the thing in the first place, not to mention that he's willing to take the time to comment on it in person. I am trying not to get my hopes up that this means he found enough worthwhile in the play that he might consider mounting it on stage -- I am focusing on this amazing opportunity to get honest, if blunt, criticism and to improve my written work!