A Cooper, a Cobbler, a Candle-Dipper and Playwright

So ideally this would be a brief blurb whole-heartedly encouraging you to consider joining my beginning playwriting class at Freehold this summer; but I have never been able to bring much more than a half-heart to the effort of shilling for my classes.  And those of you who know me know that shilling is not ordinarily something I am uncomfortable with.

Bitterness is an occupational hazard of being a playwright.  I manage my bouts as best as I can, and honestly, since my boys were born, I am a lot less plagued with it:  quite happy, in fact, with my individual fate as an artist, while still remaining deeply unsatisfied with the slow progress of the art form itself, especially in this city that I have chosen to live and practice it.  In my less cheerful moments, though, I have been known to half-joke that my chosen profession has a lot in common with the kind of occupations you might find at colonial Williamsburg.  The apparent misspelling of the second syllable serves as dead giveaway for its goofy old-timey contrivance.  Does anybody really “wright” anything anymore?  Wouldn’t I be better off moving to some 17th Century throwback village, hanging out a sign that says “ye Olde Playwrighte” and scribbling out sides for “players” on parchment with a quill?  Certainly one must question the ethics, let alone benevolence, of asking for money in exchange for teaching anyone such an anachronistic craft.   But I have also come to realize that there is a small but considerable subset of otherwise rational, intelligent adults that actually want to learn how to craft barrels, or shoes, or hand-dipped candles, or even-- heaven help them—plays.  So long as everything is honest and above board I do not believe I need to feel guilty about taking their money for teaching them how to wright.  (A more unrelenting question might be: “Should I feel guilty about the fact that I am convinced I learn more from every class than my students do?”)

So if you know anyone who might like to study wrighting words for people-- or rather, their perilously attractive facsimiles, actors-- to speak aloud and live on stage, or if you yourself always dreamed of the kind of arrogance only anachronistic obscurity can forge, then you should know that I will be teaching at Playwriting I: Exploring the Craft at Freehold this Summer.  Details below.

Love,

Paul Mullin, Ye Olde Playwrighte

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Playwriting I: Exploring the Craft

Theatre tells stories using actors, with powerful objectives, living at specific moments in time. Explore the many ways playwrights create interesting, truthful characters and dynamic stories using the language of the stage: words: movement, light, sound, and silence. This interactive class includes both sit-down writing exercises, and up-on-your-feet work, so please dress comfortably.

Upcoming Classes
July 14 - September 1
Wednesdays 6:30pm - 9:30pm
Freehold's Bev Kelly Library
Open for Registration: http://www.freeholdtheatre.org/studio/class/707

Comments

[Omar Willey]

What makes it possible for you to be such a wonderful playwright and teacher is that you *do* learn from your students more than they learn from you. That is as it should be. And as they open up to life, they will learn in class not only from you, but from all their classmates as well. Don't feel guilty about it; this is as it should be.

Just no bad jokes about being a mender of bad soles, ye cobbler...

[Jose' Amador]

"I make candles for a living...Of course I'm gay."

[Paul Mullin]

Thanks so much, Omar. The fact that teaching is an essentially selfish act for me is what makes it magically bearable.