Friday, January 4, 2013

A Good Night for Ghosts: a review of Then She Fell


Alice and Alice
"I wonder, when you look in the mirror, who stares you down at night?"

A Nurse greets you at the door you almost didn't find, past the ruined garden, down the stairs, around the corner. She checks your name off a clipboard and tells you to find your place, labeled, at one of the three tables. Waiting for you is a ring of keys, and another Nurse is at hand with your elixir. This is Then She Fell, Third Rail Project's immersive adaptation of Lewis Carroll's Alice books, and it is both strange and familiar.

The lobby where we waited was appropriately dark and curious. Our bags left in an open trunk, our coats piled on a single coatrack, and locked boxes scattered throughout the room, begging to be unlocked - one box contains letters from Lewis Carroll to Alice Liddell (the real-life inspiration and intended audience for the Alice books), another photographs of the two, another a tiny parlor of dollhouse furniture, complete with minuscule playing cards scattered on the floor and a toppled chess set. Each table has a folder full of hospital admittance forms, already filled out.

Eventually the Doctor stepped up to a microphone to welcome us and tell us the rules of the space - no talking, no opening closed doors, relock anything you happen to unlock with the keys you've been given. He then spoke on liminality while nurses guided audience through various doors, one or two at a time. So the audience was separated and sent on its various journeys, and so the show began.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

So I wrote a book ...

This actually happened. And, as of two days ago, you can buy one of your very own. Holy crap, you guys. Holy crap. I'm kind of insanely proud of this.

cover design copyright 2012 by
Danielle Rose Fisher

The book has been several years in the making - I first wrote about putting together a book of short stories in June last year, but most of the pieces in the collection predate that intention. One piece even dates back to high school ("The Name of the Father," if you're curious), a handful to college, and the rest to the years between college and now. Only one piece is younger than my intention to put the book together in the first place - I went through about ten drafts with a placeholder page declaring:

I am the missing piece in this compilation! I plan to be something more lighthearted and prose-shaped but I have no idea what I am! It’s all very confusing.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Here and Now

I've got this book I wrote. And what I'm doing with it, it wouldn't have worked 100 years ago. Hell, it wouldn't have worked 10 years ago. Self-publication, vanity publication, was a sticky and expensive process at best, and there wasn't necessarily much respect accorded to any of it. I've talked about this before. Yes, there are Eragon-shaped exceptions, but for the most part, it hasn't been the most dignified way to get your work out there.

And then the kindle showed up. And the nook. And the other 5000 e-readers. And the landscape is changing drastically. E.L. James drastically. [editor's note: no, I have no intention to be E. L. James. I'm a much better proofreader than that.]

So I've got this book I wrote. It's a book of short pieces - some full-out short stories, some poetry, some flash fiction (a page or less) - and I'm very proud of it. But it's a book I don't think I'd be able to sell to the middlemen of publishing - agents and publishing houses. It's too strange a shape for that. And that's fine. I've got this book I wrote and I'm digitally self-publishing, and I'm so glad I live now, here, in this time and place. This is the time for self-publication.

Friday, August 24, 2012

Okay, Kiddo

Yesterday Saba, my grandfather, passed away. He went quietly after a long illness. His children and wife were with him.

I am sad.

All day, that's really all I've been able to say. I am sad. Three small words, a simple sentiment, not truly describing, but hinting at the shape of it. I am sad. Saba is gone now and I am sad.

I am sad.

friendBrian, though, replied in perhaps the best way imaginable:
"I'm sorry. Tell me some of the awesome stuff he did."
And I started to list them. And I'm still sad. But Saba was a truly wonderful person. Here is some of the awesome stuff he did.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Hamlet's Sterile Promontory


Do you hear, let them be well used; for
they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the
time - Hamlet

Review of The Shakespeare Forum's Hamlet, at Theater for the New City, June 21-July 1. It would be disingenuous of me not to say, at the outset, that not only am I acquainted with most of the members of this production, but that I call many of them friends. However, I am in earnest when I say I think that only slightly influences my objectivity.


Tyler Moss and Pat Dwyer
 as Hamlet and Ghost

A young man stands center stage and looks calmly out at us. He smiles and says nothing. He is quietly satisfied with himself, with us, with the world. His friend approaches, a folded letter in his hand. As Hamlet silently reads the letter, we see his mother and his uncle, behind him and in another space, reading the same letter. The young man falls to the floor, a wretch in silent agony and shock. His world has ended. The play has begun.