a monologue blogue

"A dramatic monologue is a long excerpt in a play, poem or story that reveals a character's thoughts and feelings. When we read a story, sometimes we can see what a character is thinking, but it isn't always so clear. When a writer allows a character to speak in a monologue, we get to see inside a character's head and then we better understand what motivates that character." (Google)

ME:  Monologues are a favourite device in contemporary Canadian  plays, so much so that playwrights often have trouble creating dialogue between (or often: among) other characters on stage.  They talk at each other instead of inter-acting or responding. I still go to courses and workshops and readings and such as well as plays because it's always possible to learn something new or even to have a well-known technique reinforced. If you haven't already noticed, monologues are very important - to the writers, I think, more than to the audiences. I mean, they're not like "To be or not to be".I know playwrights who begin a new play by writing a monologue for each character they envision.  It’s an effective method for getting to know their people, getting inside a head, learning (creating) speech patterns and back history.  It’s one method, not the only one.  Writers are encouraged (by textbooks on how to write a play - or novel) to write biographies of their principals, not much different from a monologue, at that.  I’m not going to go into this any further. I bring it up because yesterday I gave a playwriting lab, on Character, at Ryerson University (the Senior Playwrights program) and asked my class to write a monologue and then to share it. I discovered that some of these wannabe playwrights don’t know what a monologue is.  They wrote dialogue for two or more people in a dramatic scene.

My fault. I had assumed that everyone knew what a monologue is. Like this blogue.

 

 

save my place

Safari is on record now as being untrustworthy, and says it won't change until its next update. So wait here, while I write my blog elsewhere. I'll be back.

Here I am..

 

This morning I am going to limp over to Ryerson (University) to give a playwriting lab on Character for the Seniors Playwriting Program. My chief concern has been what to wear. I can’t get jeans or tights over the large dressing on my leg, so I’ll wear a long denim skirt and take an extra shawl over layered tops.  I asked for a chair so I don’t have to stand for two hours and I’ll use my shawl as a cushion under my leg so I can put it up (on another chair?), if need be.  Then I’ll tap-dance. Not literally, of course, but what a nice expression to use when I am at the moment incapable of tap-dancing.  My mind is still agile.

And full of blogs.

I still want to discuss Ursula LeGuin and the child in the basement. Schedule that for later this week. 

I  want to tell you about some of the people I met last week on the theatre tour, and about the Stratford Festival, and maybe even a little about my late husband.

Oh, and Robert Frost and soup – not a huge discussion – just my paraphrase of his line “Good fences make good neighbours” with a totally different approach to neighbourliness.  My line is “Good soup makes good neighbours.” I’ve been thinking of it this week as various neighbours bring me soup.  That’s my favourite take-to for people who need TLC. 

It’s 7 a.m. and I have to change the dressing on my leg.  I also must change my face and attitude so as not to daunt my students.  I need a little joie-de-vivre here.  Know any good jokes?