Brophy Amalgamated Publishing

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing WRITER. Stories meant for reading.
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About the author: Born in New York City in 1959, C.M. Brophy has written, directed and acted in plays and films in New York, San Francisco and Canada. Founding member and artistic director of Dude Theater Frisco, Bindlestiff theater of 6th st. and Splanchnic Theatricals international as well as many other Union and pirate theater houses and film production projects as collaborator, hired gun and featured solo artist. He was impresario at Random Ax guerrilla arts. He was songwriter and bass player in the Scropes, a 1980's S.F. musical ensemble. He built, operated and sold a little pizza parlor outside Washington D.C. He works as a plumber these days and has been a cab driver, short order cook, tradesman, clerk, miner, lookout, mover, driver and decoy. He's done some modeling. He ran for Mayor on the platform that if elected he would not serve. He's run a marathon. He paints and sculpts and can dance and sing and swim. His opus for solo piano, "Roommate Torture" is almost finished, so yes, he is also a composer. He is full of love- and hate. Adventures, which he believes are not meant to be fun while they're happening, have taken him in small boats down rivers and across vast bodies of water, in trains, old broke down cars and commercial jet airliners. Brophy has traveled to the Arctic Circle, Mexico, South America, the British isles, Ireland, Europe and the middle of the desert. He has walked upon a frozen sea. He has a home in the suburbs, sons and a spouse, 2 dogs and a mortgage, has rolled in the gutter, been bloodied and blotto, tattooed and transformed, redeemed, broken boned, stitched back together, honored and ignored. A college dropout, he writes in bed or standing up, most prolific away from home. C. M. Brophy is a boxer and a poet. He is destined to continue to write outside the confines of commerce, fully field testing the experimental theory, "Perfect is the enemy of done.". intending to complete volumes of plays, novels and stories before he dies, hoping one day an editor will come along to help make sense and dollars from the rough concentrates of raw material, refining and extracting punctuation, spelling, formatting and structural contradictions into a slim faultless volume. Posthumously would be fine with him. Christopher Michael Brophy is very busy living.

This page is for and about all things Brophy Amalgamated Publishing: Works in progress, news, promotions, photos, notions and contact information. Expanding the readership is the goal, so shares and reviews of the books when ever you can is highly appreciated. Thank you.

I've been "attending" Zoom distanced play readings and would like to try hosting some kind of playwrights theatre worksh...
04/04/2020

I've been "attending" Zoom distanced play readings and would like to try hosting some kind of playwrights theatre workshop myself. Would you like to get in on the ground floor? Maybe it's a weekly event,??? I have scripts with scenes for 3 dudes, and scripts for man/woman couples. Actors, audience, dramaturgical theoreticians, technical crafty types, musicians, designers, writers, and directors needed. Probably better if some kind of show-making experience, but interest and enthusiasm are more important than a professional resume. Start the conversation here now. I'll act in an organizational leadership capacity to begin with but am interested in a democratic-egalitarian- commie-pinko -left-leaning -bleeding-heart kind of aesthetic and structure... yet blasphemous, satirical, and darkly humorous... Fatalistic end times prophecies theatre in a hermetically sealed vacuum alone together against the oily oily oligarchy for fun and profit... on ice.

04/01/2020

A Pinter shortie

What I Did Last Weekend: An EncomiumC.M.Brophy Sabrina stood a touch over five foot tall, neither fleshy nor stout, cle...
03/26/2020

What I Did Last Weekend: An Encomium
C.M.Brophy

Sabrina stood a touch over five foot tall, neither fleshy nor stout, clearly very young, but old enough to drink and drive. She was the color of the West Virginia forest floor, of leaves and bark and peat and clay --not sunburnt Celt or olive Mediterranean, but an animal hue blended between earth and vegetation. To the observers watching what she had to show us, her steady balanced poise, her knowing old soul manner made her plain looks exceedingly attractive. The children, older women and men, and especially the younger women her age all fell hard for her unassuming personality. We were charmed, despite or because of the blood we watched dry on her cheek. There were no young men in attendance but had there been two, surely they would’ve become instant rivals.

She possessed a folksy kind of class, but perhaps the quality that elevated the impression she cast to the level of classical beauty was her calm inherited depth of knowledge.

She claimed to have been at these activities on display for as long as she could remember, her kin as well, never knowing a time without inherently knowing all that she knew. She didn’t call what she was doing before our group a class or abstract the procedures with the title of teacher. She didn’t even call her skills, skills. She was just showing the enraptured attendees the way to kill, skin, butcher, and cook a rabbit, just as she had done uncountable times before, except for this demonstration she would not be dispatching the animal with a .22 caliber rifle as firearms were not welcome at the primitive skills conference. Sabrina herself would prefer to be dispatched with a painless bullet to the brain if she were to be killed, eating grass and hopping around one second and then just gone. For this event, circumstances required that she take the relaxed animal from beneath the darkness of her jacket, pin its head to the ground with boots atop a stick the thickness of a broom handle, and pulling both legs swiftly break the neck and sever the spine. An amateur magician cracking his knuckles before a card trick would produce a more jarring sound. There was no death peep from the cottontail. The brief excited moment before the beast’s pathetic death when it’s trusted handler placed it in the kill position may have been fearful beyond measure for the animal, but there was no report, no evil gun to frighten the gathered onlookers.

Maybe what made Sabrina seem so remarkable to the urbanites was the absence of something so prevalent in their day-to-day --she wasn’t false so she was true. --she wasn’t pretending so she was genuine.

Undeniably fascinating was her total command of the content of her demonstration, the deftness and manual dexterity, obvious experience from childhood's hour, passed down from the childhoods of her forebearers. The wealth of her own unique experiences also added to what she brought forth to share with our small group. She had worked with veterinarians in surgery, was engaged with dog breeding kennels, knowledgeable of livestock animal husbandry, she could hunt and track all kinds of prey and was a good shot. If she couldn’t already operate an outboard motor or ride a dirt bike, you could be sure she’d be able to pick it up in 15 minutes.

Sabrina’s light mountain dialect, her concise commentary as she searched for the exact technical term where needed or use of colloquial slang where that form of speech would serve more effectively, never showing off with 40 dollar adverbs or use of clever euphemisms for mere effect, aurally increased her diminutive presence. Simply stated big ideas like Life and Death, shown and spoken so clearly, perfectly, made this small young person timeless and large.

For skinning, she used a medical scalpel because it was better if you intended to retain the lips and eyelashes for taxidermy or the fur trade. The fur came away from the bunny’s carcass in a tube, outside in, as you would extricate your arm from the sleeve of a tight wet sweater. The sharp drawknife on her belt, also a fine instrument, was used for bloodletting and dismemberment, slicing tendons and as a pointing tool to identify the healthy organs and offal, showing that no blood had been asphyxiated, proving the instantaneous effect of her dispatch method.

When Sabrina broke the rabbit's spine, irrevocably turning it from pet to food, she was closest to the level of the two small children in attendance. They did not cry but worried why the body still twitched and jumped for a spell and were clearly skeptical of their nervous parent's reassurances, doubting that everything was really alright. Sabrina cleared things up explaining that no, it was actually not alright at all, it was, in fact, dead, and that yes, a dead thing moving and contracting with spasms was disturbing to behold, but it would not be long before they’d be eating it.

“Chickens are worse, and chicken is delicious,” she said.

Quartered, salt and peppered, roasted, burned or undercooked, dropped in ashes, dusted off, guts sizzling in the coals, the skull reduced to soot, the sacrifice was consumed. As the student rusticators full mouth’s prevented continued prattling and interruption, Sabrina voiced her preference for swine, the mammal which most resembled Man, physiologically, although she had never before been afforded the opportunity to render a human body into its separate components.

“I’ve eaten enough rabbit,” she said. “Most pork, commercial pork is good, but sometimes the flesh of a boar that has not been castrated tastes bad. It can carry the flavor of the smell of boar urine.”

Chewing, we nodded as if any of us knew the subtle differences between the variant bouquets of barnyard urinary fragrances.

I was not alone in my desire to be among Sabrina’s tribe when the end of the world begins.

03/24/2020

3/21/2020 Notes from Quarantine

03/21/2020

cruel dystopian future story

03/19/2020

American Shakespeare Studies During the modern plague March 19/2020

I think I'd like to start auditioning again, interested in a reasoned critique to this approach from reasonable critics....
03/15/2020
C. M. Brophy

I think I'd like to start auditioning again, interested in a reasoned critique to this approach from reasonable critics. text copy below but formatting layout is all on one page, 2 photos on second sheet, Whaddathink

I have put my professional acting and directing pursuits on hold for the past 15 years as I’ve raised my family as a plumber mostly, letting my stage and screen union affiliations lapse, but the kids are big now and I have a flexible caretaker’s employment schedule. During this hiatus, I concerned myself with writing plays and literary fiction and poetry, when not busy with trades work. As of April 2020, my A.E.A. membership has been reinstated and I am proud to once again be a Union member in good standing.

I could compile an incomplete list of past stage roles, probably about 50 items long, but it kinda feels like a college freshman bragging about how popular he was in high school. I have played Titus Andronicus, Ferdinand, Bottom, The melancholy Jaques, Le Beau from Shakespeare’s oeuvre.
Here is my Bio
Brophy has written, directed and acted in plays and films in New York, San Francisco, Canada, Virginia, and Washington D.C.. He has studied performance in Ireland, the U.K., Italy, South America and the Caribbean. Founding member and artistic director of Dude Theater Frisco, Bindlestiff Theater, and Splanchnic Theatricals, as collaborator, hired gun and featured solo artist in many other Union and pirate theater houses and film production projects. He was impresario at Random Ax guerrilla arts, songwriter and bass player in the Scropes, (a punk band.) He built, operated and sold a little pizza parlor outside Washington D.C. He has been a cabbie, short-order cook, tradesman, clerk, miner, lookout, plumber, mover, driver, and decoy. He’s done some modeling. Brophy writes every day, and self-publishes short stories, novels, plays, one-acts, essays, and poison-pen letters. Brophy now has a cushy day job working for the Catholic Church and wishes to work again on live staged performance and Theatre.

Artistic statement: Playwright Director Actor
In my playwriting, acting, and directing I am trying to get the words to sound right, so they sing, and get the moments true, so they are really like something that happened, or happens all the time, or could never have happened, or I wish would happen, or would be humorously horrible if it really happened.
I have a pretty swell ear for American dialogue and a keen appreciation of structure and form, am a mostly self-taught storyteller and script maker-mender-collaborator. I read many plays, novels, biographies, and theory manuscripts. I watch movies, silents, black and white and foreign, and first release stuff too. I take classes and workshops. I am a member of writing groups. I have seen thousands of live performances. I have acted in and directed many plays. I feel that when plays are not read aloud to strangers in public they are incomplete. Dramatic art in a vacuum, by oneself, is the biggest obstacle and dissatisfaction all theatre artists face. I tell great stories, or good stories, or stink bombs, but without a hearing, it is as if they never existed. It is all nothing, a bucket of spit, without an audience. I make plays for people I have never met, about people I can not forget, some that do not exist.
​~~~~ In bocca al lupo ~~~~ Crepi il lupo ~~~~
brophypublishing @gmail.com https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00Q9O9CSW https://www.facebook.com/BrophyAmalgamatedPublishing/
(240) 217-2892

Follow C. M. Brophy and explore their bibliography from Amazon.com's C. M. Brophy Author Page.

03/15/2020

fil:///media/fuse/drivefs-a90510f9fbf884c9f44a30431b828fbc/root/_BROPHY%20Theatre%20Artist%20RESUME%20AND%20PHOTO%202020%20(1).pdf

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing
03/15/2020

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo
03/15/2020

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo

03/12/2020

make an effort

03/10/2020
Phase 2 of lumpy gravy

More text interpretation experiments, shorter is the lesson learned from the last one, will continue to analyze camera angle, backgrounds, audio quality, lighting, and production values.

03/09/2020

Over 10 minutes of memory experiment, no practice, no text refresh. I think maybe I could learn a part again, I assumed that was all behind me, but maybe some elder secondary Shakespeare beardo, why not.

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo
03/06/2020

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo

03/03/2020

Curse of the Lucky 7: scene 1

02/29/2020

old stuff that never made it into my Alaska book

02/24/2020

CRAZY 8s IN THE OCTAGON HOUSE

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo
02/22/2020

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing
02/22/2020

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo
09/14/2019

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo

Here's my paperback catalog, They're SUPERFANTASTIC!
08/23/2019
C. M. Brophy

Here's my paperback catalog, They're SUPERFANTASTIC!

Follow C. M. Brophy and explore their bibliography from Amazon.com's C. M. Brophy Author Page.

one more flurry of self-promotion with all the old material before my 60th B-day, then begins my geriatric periodhttps:/...
08/23/2019
C.M. Brophy | New Play Exchange

one more flurry of self-promotion with all the old material before my 60th B-day, then begins my geriatric period
https://newplayexchange.org/users/22726/cm-brophy

The Orangutan Eight by C.M. BrophyCast: 8 · Genre: comedy, dark comedy + 2 moreGenre: comedy, dark comedy, political, tragedyWhen an Orangutan is elected president of the United States a group of aging destitute liberal San Franciscans go ape-sh*t radical extremist. 8 actors, 1 setting, Full-lengt...

We Resist
07/03/2019

We Resist

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo
06/06/2019

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing
05/20/2019

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing

Going to this vintage MC show this weekend, looking for fulfillment of my every desire
05/14/2019

Going to this vintage MC show this weekend, looking for fulfillment of my every desire

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing
05/13/2019

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo
05/13/2019

Brophy Amalgamated Publishing's cover photo

04/03/2019

After a rather disappointing week of no-gos, I get wind of open submissions for the Problematic Play Festival back in San Francisco. If this attempt fails I think I had better just build a suburban playwright's theatre in my back yard and quit knocking on doors, here is the preamble to the last dance............................

Hallo Zs,
everything about me and my writing is problematic, please read my play ALL HAIL SATAN; The curse of the lucky seven, and I hope you'll agree that there is so much more than simply a too long title at its troubled and unproduceable core. I dare you. It's funny as f**k. ..........

Dearest Z space gatekeepers,
Yeah, you guys too, gatekeepers, that’s how it feels from my perspective. I’ve sent y’all
stuff in the past with a personal groveling plea to find in your heart a way for me to please
somehow stay involved with my dearest ambition, a place in the theatre. I actually made over
350 creative writing submissions last year, far and wide and, well, bupkis. So, my unproduceable
bonafides are solid gold, bitches.
Addressing your submission request for a one-pager explanation of who I am, why I
wrote the play, what makes it problematic, audience discussion topics, and my use of comedy let
me say this about all that:
I’m Chris Brophy motherf**kers. I’ve written, directed and acted in plays and films in
New York, San Francisco, Canada, Virginia, New England, and Washington D.C. I was a
founding member and artistic director of Dude Theater Frisco, Bindlestiff theater of 6th st. and
Splanchnic Theatricals international, as well as many other Union and pirate theater houses and
film production projects, as collaborator, hired gun, and featured solo artist. I was impresario at
Random Ax guerrilla arts, songwriter and bass player in the Scropes, (a punk band, sort of.) I
built, operated and sold a little pizza parlor outside Washington D.C. I work as a plumber these
days but have been a cabbie, short order cook, tradesman, clerk, miner, lookout, mover, driver,
and decoy. Yeah, I’ve done some modeling. I write every day. I self-publish short stories,
novels, plays, one-acts, essays, and poison pen letters.
I wrote this play, ALL HAIL SATAN; The curse of the lucky 7, for many reasons, but
like mostly all my creative endeavors the themes and thesis statements reveal themselves to me
in the revision process. The only partially formed impetus is often forgotten once the characters
start yakking... but I seem to remember an early idea being “The higher calling of amoral
behavior.” Many previously‘Bad’ things are now acceptable. And the big if of living bravely,
acting on impulse and satisfying one’s unacceptable desires. These themes of Right & Wrong
VS. Good and Bad VS. Moral-Immoral-Amorality is what makes this play problematic to me
and others, probably? Jumped up with nudity, forbidden taboo-breaking, obscenities, dirty jokes,
blasphemy, and raunchy sex, murder, and mayhem.
The above theoretical paragraph of pontification contains enough fuel for audience
conversation starting. I would want to hear what parts of the artwork made the audience
personally dislike the artist since it’s their love I seek.
The characters and their relationships and colorful turns of phrase provide the comedy
potential, but like everything I’ve ever laughed at on stage, it’s really the actors that make it
funny.
I could solicit a letter from a Bay Area collaborator friend who has yet to read my play.
Mr. Stephen Pocock started Bindlestiff Theatre with me a hundred years ago and like me has put
The Theatre behind his responsibilities of raising his family lo these last past 20 years. He is
astute and talented and would know probably better than me this play’s virtues.
If selected for this festival series I would enthusiastically make the 3000-mile trip and
could promise to muster up about 50 attendees from my old home-town cronies who either owe
me big time or can be guilted into complying with my coercive needs.
Below is a photo of a very encouraging rejection letter from Fishamble out of Dublin.
Thanks a million, Brophy.

Maybe this letter can serve as a submission for the THEATRE IS A DARK AND DIRTY PLACE FULL OF LONLEY NEEDY PEOPLE monolouge contest.... wish me luck!

My rejection of your rejection. I would encourage the producers to reconsider my submission for inclushion into the fest...
11/11/2018
Brophy Amalgamated Publishing the Website

My rejection of your rejection.
I would encourage the producers to reconsider my submission for inclushion into the festival. The response critiques themselves warrant critique, but where would it end? I don't agree with these assessments of the work and suspect that the "Authors" are actually aspiring writers and are not the professional, practicing theatre artists that they pretend at -but what are ya gonna do. It was extra disappointing to find that somebody actually read my offering and wrote a response, but the level of negativity was just so, ? unuseful. Thoughtless. Meritless. Readers #697? #734? and the evaluation checklist!- do you really have hundreds of volunteer readers to help winnow down to the short list? That sounds bad, like a straight up lottery might field stronger results, seriously. Let somebody who is actually involved with putting unpublished dramatic writing on stage give my triptych a read, someone experienced with imagining a page of text spoken aloud in public, and if they hate my play as much as the tone of your hobbyist reviewers then I'm sure a simple "No, thanks" would suffice- for everybody concerned. These unqualified responses represent your organization to the world of submitting aspiring artists like myself, it is an awful feeling to read such awfully unhelpful aspersions about my superfantastic little play. It's is not simply a question of bad humor but humorlessness. Self-appointed, self-anointed experts in any field make me want to spit. I have had to make so many complete repairs, entire do-overs following the work of well-meaning volunteers in my daily salaried work as a plumber, I maintain it is exactly the same in the arts.

~~~~ In bocca al lupo ~~~~ Crepi il lupo ~~~~

C.M. Brophy
PLAYWRIGHT
Brophy Amalgamated Publishing
http://374084306628950264.weebly.com
http://brophyamalgamatedpublishing.tumblr.com/
https://newplayexchange.org/users/22726/cm-brophy
https://www.facebook.com/BrophyAmalgamatedPublishing?ref=hl

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Phase 2 of lumpy gravy
Phase 2 of lumpy gravy

More text interpretation experiments, shorter is the lesson learned from the last one, will continue to analyze camera angle, backgrounds, audio quality, lighting, and production values.

Over 10 minutes of memory experiment, no practice, no text refresh. I think maybe I could learn a part again, I assumed that was all behind me, but maybe some elder secondary Shakespeare beardo, why not.

KINK! just tryin' out my new used craigslist wetsuit and weight belt, kinda tight, very slimming, sweaty....

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small play
lovely night at the theatre
https://newplayexchange.org/users/22726/cm-brophy/artistic-statement
I could use some Amazon reviews on this one if you are able, the digital version is only 99cents instead of $5 plus shipping for the large format paperback (rehearsal script)
In case you missed it, this is a fundraiser for the most accomplished rock singer from my high school and a real fine fellow going through a very difficult medical emergency:
Attended my first MC show yesterday, put my POS Suzuki 185 up for scrutiny on the concourse, duly spanked but the vintage enthusiasts were very polite and friendly. Searching for my last real motorcycle, was thinking British but am now drifting back towards the Japanese. This is my new writing genre: speculative autobiography with Zero publishing ambitions. Vroom-vroom-vrooooooom!
look what I found (ed) The Bindlestiff Founders picnic Some of this is done live, some is on video, some is spoken into a microphone by a smiling Stan Grabowski at a music stand down stage right. Don Wood Crying from the audience, softly at first then super loud “HE’S DEAD”, over and over. Reed enters with a bag of hammers, he is wearing a red clown nose, he unattractively turns up-stage calling, “Where is that egg lady”, he obtusely drops a ream of paper onto a chair and proceeds to try and nail it to the chair but Stephen Pocock keeps correcting him, exchanging hammers, giving too much direction, talking of “vectors” and “Juxtaposition” and other theatre nerd words as Reed grows frustrated and snippy. Persnickety yet stridently piqued. Anybody drags a cassette player atop of a roller skate on a string to Down stage left and sets up a powerstrip into which they plug many appliances, a toaster that burns raisin toast, a fan, black and white portable tv and the cassette player, the audio is Gardner and Chrystene calling each other Margaret and talking about John and back bacon. Sarah E banjo music can be heard over the pa system. Raw bacon on a coat hanger descends from the ceiling. Enters anybody on a small bicycle with a megaphone reciting original bindlestiff co members names and a mash up of rodeo zingers from the first 5 years “Kitty litter- thompson's water seal and crickets... I’ll be back... wonder why wanda went swimmin, etc...” plates crash into a metal garbage can... “I am a knife a fork.!” All the alternate names to Some Fell Among The Thorns...(ADD TO THIS_ GROUP WRITE)” a crescendo silence “WE ARE BUTT VESSELS” (Tracy) a low hum feedback an out of tune piano Beautiful young naked actors with our old headshots rubber banded as masks cavort treating cigarettes as revolvers. The Kennedy assassination (Scott), ladies panties in Michael Bellino's face, Blancett's bazooms, (add to this list free associations, strung together into a group groupe tone poem) Silence Don crying (he’s dead) some more Reed takes center stage with an absurd bloody death scene a kiss black out an excessive curtain call and credits roll black out, lights with a lot of frantic obscenities laden whispering and bumping into each other, lights to 1/8th as whispering performers drag all the detritus to upstage left, lights full on twenty second count as performers self consciously finish clearing stage, they form a line upstage and slowly approach the audience, their facial expression changing from chagrin to menace, their breathing together now audibly through clenched teeth as lights fade slowly to black. full lights with all performers in a pile downstage at the feet of the first row, blocking the exit, they squirm their freeform modern dance closing night party epilogue. It’s mostly floor work. An apology to the audience by the current guiding minds of the current theatre company.
[email protected] 10:39 AM (7 hours ago) to me Dear Christopher Michael Brophy, Thank you for your interest in the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation Fellowship Competition. Your final application has not yet been submitted to the Foundation for consideration. However, since some applicants have been affected by Hurricane Florence and with approach of two religious holidays (i.e., Yom Kippur and Ashura), I am extending the application submission period by a few days. You may finish your application for the 2019 United States and Canada competition and submit it by 5:00 PM (EST), Monday, September 24. If you wish your application to be considered in this year's competition, I strongly urge that you log in, complete and acknowledge any unfinished sections, and Final Submit your application by Monday the 24th. PLEASE DISREGARD THIS REMINDER IF YOU HAVE ALREADY SUBMITTED A COMPLETED APPLICATION TO THE FOUNDATION, OR IF YOU NO LONGER WISH TO APPLY. Sincerely, Keith Lewis Program Officer John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation 90 Park Avenue New York, NY 10016 [email protected] and the appropriate response from the Dude Theatre rejection of rejection form letter depot reads thus... Dearest Keith...care of [email protected] You personally are extending the application deadline for an act of God and 2 (previously scheduled) Religous holidays? Well, Keith Lewis, this decision of yours will be forever part of your personal legacy, as well as reflecting upon the greater institution which you represent. All Hail Satan, pantywaist. yours, Brophy...
OK, this is the one I'm sticking with... for now
this is where I'm leaving yesterdays project, for the time being, 15 plays ready for action.
https://newplayexchange.org/users/22726/cm-brophy/artistic-statement
ALL HAIL SATAN! The curse of the Lucky 7 A play in 3 acts By Brophy Authors first draft notes: In this theatrical experiment I hope to entirely excise all constraints of plot from my initial version, not concerning myself at all with where the story is going. I’m in the inventing/creating stage, have forgone any prewriting, planning, plotting, or outlining. There will, therefore, be some dead-ends, red herrings, repetition and overwriting. I do not intend to do any revising, cutting, rewriting until I have more than enough scenes for a long full-length play- 3 acts with an intermission. These are the very first ideas put to paper. With the theory that plot follows character, my primary focus will be on the character development and their relationships with one another. Honing their voice and generally overwriting them speaking with one another in different configurations. Writing procedures for this project: PLOT/STORY Follows CHARACTER. CHARACTER reveals itself through ACTION. Autonomy of SCENE, each its own free standing vehicle containing the Where and What is happening, and with Who, their individual intentions - my intention it make all these elements clearly discernible. But the Why, or How everything fits into the overall is not answered, those are 3rd or 4th draft questions. THEME equates to The Why of it, or the raison d'etre, a secondary step in this proposed process, where sections are rearranged and enhanced to tell a story or journey. EDITING I take to mean what you do with a first final draft where major alteration is still possible. PREVIEW PUBLISHING, or PRODUCTION preparation, or polishing for SUBMISSION would be the final step before the play is out of my hands and considered written.