Kevin

The Speech – A 10-Minute Comedic Play.

This is a ten minute play I wrote for the 2011 Trafalgar 24 Play Creation Festival – a fundraiser put on by DRIFTWOOD THEATRE.

The Speech was written on Thursday March 10th – and performed 6 times in front of a rotating audience of approximately 300 people on Friday March 11th. It was performed at Trafalgar Castle, in Whitby, Ontario.

This play is copyright protected. It can be used royalty free, with prior written permission. please contact me @ kevintcraig@hotmail.com

TITLE: THE SPEECH

GENRE: COMEDY

ONE LINE SYNOPSIS: Karen has to give a speech, but isn’t quite ready to speak in public.

CHARACTER/ACTOR LIST:

MATTHEW

KAREN

DESCRIPTION: Matthew and Karen have made a deal. Matthew will write the speech for the Ladies’ Auxiliary, if Karen will present it. Matthew has fulfilled his part of the deal. Can Karen get over her fear of public speaking in time to carry out her end of the bargain?

SETTING

Stage – Just prior to the Ladies’ Auxiliary Meeting

KAREN [At the microphone/podium]: I’m scared.

MATTHEW [Behind curtain upstage right]: Do it!

KAREN: But I’m scared. I don’t wanna do it.

MATTHEW [Stomps out to the podium]: Do it! Come on. You’re not even in front of an audience yet. What are you afraid of?

KAREN: Bears. People with bad breath. Bank lines. Trampolines! Sunglasses. Fear itself. Yes. I’m afraid of fear. That’s what scares me the most. And Pancakes. The way they—

MATTHEW: I didn’t ask what scares you in general! I asked what you’re afraid of now. Being on stage? There’s nobody here. What does it matter! Just. Do. It.

KAREN [Covers microphone with hand]: Sshhhhhhh!

MATTHEW: Who are you shushing? The mic isn’t even on and nobody else is here! God, Karen. Get a grip. You have to do this tonight. We have to practice. Do you wanna freeze up here in front of all those people?

KAREN: Aha! I got it! You can be my audience. You’re not helping me up here. Actually, you’re making me think of bears. And bank lines. Would you…do you think you can go out there. You know. Be my audience? My muse.

MATTHEW: That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard of.

KAREN: Please, Matthew.

MATTHEW: Whatever. Okay. [Steps off the stage and takes two or three steps away] Okay. Do it.

KAREN: Not there. Be an audience, Matthew. Spread out.

MATTHEW: I’m one person. How do you suggest I do that?

KAREN: For starters, you can move away from the stage and sit around.

MATTHEW: You do realize I can only sit in one chair at a time, don’t you?

KAREN: You’re not helping me! Be a crowd.

MATTHEW: Again. I am one person.

KAREN: Please. Improvise.

MATTHEW [Walks to the back of the room]: Okay. I’ll be the lady who stepped out to use the toilet. I’ll stand here with my arms folded, angry that I have to wait for you to finish before I can return to my seat. How’s this?

KAREN: Performance anxiety.

MATTHEW: What?

KAREN: I can’t make a speech with that woman standing there shooting me daggers. You should see the look on her face!

MATTHEW: I can’t see it, but I can assure you I can feel it!

KAREN: Maybe if you were the guy who, you know, had a bit of a crush on me and just sat there thinking you want to ask me out on a date when I’m finished speaking. You know that guy. Okay. Go. Move over there. And make a face like you can’t wait to take me out for linguini. And wine.

MATTHEW: There aren’t going to be any men in the audience. I think I’ll go back behind the curtain now.

KAREN [Stands straight at the podium]: Good evening, ladies. Thank you for having me here today…

MATTHEW: Thank you!

KAREN: Ooh. That felt good. You know, I always wanted to be an actress! Romeo, Romeo…where forearms bow, Romeo!

MATTHEW [Walking back to the stage]: Wherefore art thou!

KAREN: I’m right here, silly.

MATTHEW: No. The line. It’s Wherefore art thou.

KAREN: You’re so cute when you’re wrong.

MATTHEW: I’m right. I studied Shakespeare in college.

KAREN: And I studied with Johnson. What does that have to do with the price of apricots in New England?

MATTHEW: No. I didn’t study with Shakespeare. I studied Shakespeare. The playwright. William. Shakespeare.

KAREN: How lovely. How is this helping me? You’re not a terribly good audience, Matthew. So far, you played an angry woman with toilet paper clinging to her dress and a not very convincing suitor who didn’t even get to the part where he pines for me and wants to ask me out on a date.

MATTHEW: I’ll be behind the curtain. Can you just do it. [Stomps onto the stage and returns behind the curtain.] Please!

KAREN: You know I’m not good at public speaking. I feel so alone up here.

MATTHEW: You are alone.

KAREN: Thanks. That really helps. The stage just got ten times bigger now. I’m just going to hyperventilate, if you don’t mind.

MATTHEW: The plan, Karen, was that I would write the speech and you would give it. I did my part. It’s your turn.

KAREN: But I’m afraid of bears!

MATTHEW: I’ll make sure we have a bouncer at the door. He’ll be given specific instructions to turn away all bears. On sight.

KAREN: I’m sensing sarcasm.

MATTHEW: No. Really. I’ll print out a mug shot of a bear so there won’t be any room for error.

KAREN: You know what I love about you?

MATTHEW: No. But I’m probably gonna find out.

KAREN: That you could be so mean as to use my fears against me! Next you’ll be hauling out a trampoline. You know what those things do to me.

MATTHEW: I don’t know about that, I kind of get a kick out of them.

KAREN: All that bouncing. Terrifying! Why they ever invented something that can shoot a human being up into the air like that, I’ll never know.

MATTHEW: I heard the inventor was someone in a bank line-up who was bored waiting for their turn with the teller. Rumour has it he was wearing sunglasses at the time. And eating a pancake.

KAREN: How could you!

MATTHEW: The speech, Karen. The speech. If there was an audience out there right now, heads would be lolling. They would all be dying of boredom.

KAREN: That’s just crazy. I’m captivating.

MATTHEW [Comes out to the podium]: Would it make you happy if we just, I don’t know, did some adlibbing? Had some fun at the mic.

KAREN: Romeo, Romeo…

MATTHEW: No. No. Don’t butcher that one again. How about I’m your long lost brother and you’re the millionaire heiress of the man who invented the sticky note.

KAREN: Impossible.

MATTHEW: No it isn’t. We’re just adlibbing. Anything goes.

KAREN: No. A woman invented the sticky note.

MATTHEW: Oh God. I’m going to die.

KAREN: You can’t die now, brother! You’ve only just come home!

MATTHEW: No. I’m not the brother yet. I mean I’m going to die of frustration. You’re killing me, Karen.

KAREN: But I’m not Karen. Who is this Karen you speak of? I am Juanita Francisca Albertson the third.

MATTHEW: We’re never gonna get this speech out, are we?

KAREN: What speech do you mean, sweet brother. [Goes in to hug MATTHEW.] Oh, but I have missed you all these long years, dear brother. Poppa is two years dead now and poor Momma is in a home for the mentally ill. You’ve missed so much. Where to begin!

MATTHEW: Okay. Stop now. I think you’re ready. Let’s get back to the speech.

KAREN: But Claudio, you must be so upset. Just now hearing of Poppa’s passing. I can’t imagine how you must feel.

MATTHEW: Does murderous ring a bell? Stop now!

KAREN: How am I ever gonna get over my fear of being on a stage if I can’t step into character. And. Act!

MATTHEW: You’re giving a speech to the Ladies’ Auxiliary about the dangers of sexually transmitted diseases in the North American bird population.

KAREN: You take the glamour out of everything!

MATTHEW: There is no glamour in diseases, Karen. If you wanted glamour you should have been a beautician. Or an actress.

KAREN: Does Avon count? My mother sells Avon.

MATTHEW: Does it make you feel glamourous?

KAREN: Not especially. Although, the bug spray is rather fragrant.

MATTHEW: Avon makes bug spray?

KAREN: Focus, Matthew. You’re getting away from the speech.

MATTHEW: Oh. I’m sorry. Here I am holding everything back. The guests are due to arrive any minute now and I’ve been talking about bug spray this whole time.

KAREN: Yes, dear. You do have a way of procrastinating.

MATTHEW: Do the speech. Now. Speak into the mic. Enunciate. Raise your voice.

KAREN: Don’t get pushy. [Walks off the stage and goes to the back of the room and faces the stage with her arms spread wide.]

MATTHEW: What are you doing now?

KAREN: I’m visualizing. All politicians do it.

MATTHEW: Get up here.

KAREN: I’m imagining my speech.

MATTHEW: They’re coming soon, Karen. You have to do a run through or you’re gonna bomb in front of all those people.

KAREN: Calm down, Matthew. I’m sure that as long as you keep out the bears, the speech will go off without a hitch.

MATTHEW: Do me a favour and show me that you can do it.

KAREN: Okay, okay. Alright already. Keep your pants on.

[They change places. KAREN goes to the podium and MATTHEW goes to the back of the room]

MATTHEW: On three. One. Two. Three.

[KAREN doesn’t say anything. MATTHEW prompts her with his hands.]

KAREN: Sorry. I thought you were gonna say GO.

MATTHEW [Through gritted teeth]: One. Two. Three.

[KAREN doesn’t say anything. MATTHEW stomps his feet.]

KAREN: Sorry, sorry. So you’re not gonna say go?

MATTHEW [Fast]: One two three GO!

KAREN: That was too fast. I wasn’t ready.

[MATTHEW stomps toward the stage – looking murderous.]

KAREN [Clearly, into the mic.]: Good evening, ladies. Thank you so much for having me here this evening.

END PLAY

If I had a hammer…

I don’t know why I wrote that title. I have a hammer. I have three hammers. If I had a hammer, I guess I would hit a few things…maybe even crush them to rubble. But not to release hostility…just to see them crumble.

It’s a new year and I don’t know what direction my writing is going to take me in during this year of our lawd, 2011. What it has shown to be so far is a year of holding patterns. Or, at least a month of holding patterns. Here are the things I am waiting on:

1. I recently received an invitation to participate in the 2011 Trafalgar 24 Play Creation Festival. The invitation is not a guarantee that I will be one of the event’s 6 chosen playwrights…it’s just a formal invitation for me to submit my intent. I have replied to the invitation by pleading to be considered for the role. During previous festivals, there were actually 10 playwrights, so with 4 less spots to fill…the competition has really heated up. So…I sit. I wait. I pray. By the 25th of January, I will know if I get to participate again this year. This playwriting gig has quickly become my favourite writing project. If I receive an acceptance to participate this year, it will be my 3rd play. I learned a lot writing for this festival (in 2009 and in 2010)…it was where I honed my passion for playwriting. Where I saw my first play come to life in the very unique setting of an 18th century castle basement. Here’s hoping!

2. Just before the New Year, I mailed off two copies of the contract I received from ‘my’ literary agent. I am now in a holding pattern awaiting the signed returned contract from the agent. At that point, I will finally be able to say that I have agent representation. It’s been a couple of weeks now, but I have to take into account the holiday season as well. Soon. Soon it will come. Holding patterns suck.

3. Half Dead & Fully Broken. That’s the title of the YOUNG ADULT NOVEL I wrote during the 2010 Muskoka Novel Marathon this past July. The novel went on to receive the Best Young Adult Novel Award for the marathon. It is now in the hands of my DREAM publisher. They have had it for almost two months now…so I should be hearing back from them very soon. Will they like it??? I don’t know. I’m dying to find out. It’s one of the few novels that I wrote that I feel okay about…so it will be interesting to get feedback from said publisher (who shall at this point remain nameless). This is yet another holding pattern.

4. My YOUNG ADULT NOVEL Summer on Fire is due to be released by Museitup Publishing out of Montreal this coming July. July is a long time away! This is truly a well oiled holding pattern. I signed the contract in July 2010. Edits. Cover. Etc. And much worrying. Will people like it? Who knows. I can’t wait for its release…but it also has me pulling my hair out with worry. Please like me, said the writer. Once it’s out…that’ll be it. No turning back.

5. The 2011 Ontario Writers’ Conference is almost here. It will take place in Ajax on APRIL 30th. Myself and eight very good friends have organized this event…with much excitement. Now that the registrations are being taken, the excitement builds. The workshop presenters are booked, the keynote speakers are booked, the agents and mentors and panelists…they’re all booked. It’s just a matter of fine-tuning the festival and watching as the date draws nearer on the calendar. CAN’T. WAIT. Oh…and WAYSON is booked. Yes…you too can enter the Church of Wayson on April 30th…all you need to do is register for the conference.

6. There is no six. Six is me. I have myself in a holding pattern while I await these things. I’m dying to participate in the Trafalgar24 event as an agented soon to be published novelist. I’m so strung out by everything that I have not been writing. Yes. I’m taking a break. Maybe getting these issues resolved will help me to move forward and start my 2011 writing life. No. I don’t have writer’s block. I don’t believe in writer’s block. I’m just chillaxing.

Lamu Town

(Originally appeared as PART THREE in a THREE PART SERIES in the WORDWEAVER.)

As our plane landed at the Manda Island airstrip, I was crazy with anticipation. Out the window, I had glimpses of the Indian Ocean and the tiny Arabic/Swahili island of Lamu!

Our first dhow (a traditional Arab sailing vessel) ride took us to Lamu Island. I didn’t know then that I would spend much of the upcoming week aboard these beautiful boats. We climbed from the dhow onto cement stairs that ascended right up out of the water. Lamu Town!

We arrived on a very special day: Islamic New Year, 1430—a day of festivities: donkey races, dhow races, dancing in the streets and vibrant reverent prayer. I was enamoured with everything I saw. Fellow traveller Venus Thrash was
offered a donkey ride upon our arrival. We followed her through the narrow streets of Lamu Town as she was escorted, like visiting royalty, to Lamu Fort and the town square. We were swept up and fully embraced in their celebration!

I woke the next morning at 4 a.m. to the gorgeous sound of Muslim prayer. It was so beautiful, I didn’t care about the early hour. I had too much to take in to waste time sleeping. The weekend was free time and only half of our group had arrived in Lamu. Eight of us had arranged for a special day trip with one of the dhow captains.

The dhow crew took us to Manda Beach, where we swam in the ocean while they made us a meal of fresh fish, coconut rice and tantalizing curry. After the meal, which was served under the shade of an acacia tree on beach sand-raked smooth by the crew, we lazed around while the crew cleaned up. Later, we piled into the dhow and made our way through an intricate mangrove forest waterway. As the path narrowed, we had to step out into the black waters and walk among the ancient mangroves to the entrance of the 15th-century Swahili trading town of Takwa. We walked the ruins with mouths agape. Crumbling walls of an ancient mosque, dinosaur baobab trees, wells, homes, a withering school and the burial site of a revered Imam…it all fascinated us. The air of Takwa was alive, abuzz—either with the voices of long dead ghosts or a mass of unseen insects. We didn’t know which. We only knew the peace of being there…the sacredness of the island.

Unfortunately, we only had half an hour in Takwa. Any longer and the waterway leading to the island would vanish. We’d be forced to spend the night within the island’s sacred hum. As much as we loved the ruins, we didn’t have to be told twice when it was time to leave.

One last surprise for the day… we emerged from the mangrove forest at the precise moment the sun touched the horizon and melted into the Indian Ocean. Perfect timing! We watched the sun melt into the ocean as we ate freshly cut fruit served to us by the crew.

That was just the first full day on Lamu. Every day was the same: perfection. We had our writing classes on the rooftop terrace of a hotel in the centre of town—a terrace with a 360 degree view of Lamu Town and the ocean surrounding it. We had sun, donkeys, dhows, sharks, weddings, Masai dancers, poetry readings on the beach, Imams, absolute joy in the face of abject poverty, a dancing/singing festive Kiswahili Christmas Eve mass in a tiny Catholic church, Rastafarians, children playing soccer, hennaed hands and so much more.

What a perfect place to end our Kenyan trip. I will never forget the people of Lamu. Their joy has changed me. Their remarkable radiance is something we could all aspire to. And writing. Ah, yes. I was there for the love of writing. My passion for words has never been stronger. The beauty of the world classroom…what a perfect place to dance with one’s muse!