To re-cap: I’m writing every day in June on my new play Slam. Slam is short for Samantha Lamb, and she is a pregnant, angry Iowan. Her life is about to change and not through her sound judgment or anyone’s good graces. Today’s subject? Read on….
I can’t get away from the environment, from dwelling on the landscape of Mason, where the play is set.
What I’ve been observing is environment, car culture, open spaces and people who drum up trouble. Slam doesn’t have a car, she’s trying to be a proper business woman and at the same time she’s had a one night stand, gotten pregnant, and is helpless in the face of her teen son’s mischief. Against it all is acres and acres of valuable farmland, none of it in her family anymore. There’s a distant regret that haunts her every time she asks for a ride. She looks out of her window and what’s there? Land that used to be in the Lamb family, but has slowly been parceled out to corporations and developers. Talk about encroachment. (Is that a word? I’m too tired to look it up.)
For this brief post, I’ll leave you with this image: Slam’s grim face looking out a window to manufactured corn fields, farmhouses sheltered by manmade stands of trees and an open road she can’t escape.
The more that’s released, the more trapped she feels. After all, her father’s getting the care he needs, her business has potential, her son will soon be on his own. Why does she seem to live in regret?