I just spent time with my index cards and inserted another scene between two women – Slam and April – who don’t understand, but like and respect each other. Their tenuous friendship is based years of being in the same town and watching each other mature, make mistakes, soar on successes, then fall awkwardly and land up-ended, with panties for all to see.
The irony, however, is there’s success in that.
(Excuse me while I scoot over to my music collection to pick out an album. The Nick Lowe just ran out. Being on an extended 1980’s kick, in part fueled by this play, I’m going to put on – wrong, I’m going to press – Tears for Fears, Elemental.)
There is success in falling with a decidedly unattractive splat. April had hers through drinking (she’s Jonah’s mom, by the way – read the June 3rd blog), and she’s sober and soaring, supporting her son rather awkwardly, but in such a heartfelt manner that Jonah’s beginning to inch back and trust her.
Slam’s spalt? No, not her pregnancy. Perhaps for Slam it’s just misplaced hubris. (Can you place hubris?) Her family used to be one of the wealthiest in the county, but that was nearly two generations it’s all gone. So sure, that’s part of Slam’s curse, but the reason I’m writing this play is to get the skinny on this Samantha Lynne, unearth this chemical-soaked, tainted woman. I have loads of content and literally dozens of scenes, and Slam has yet to be revealed. Smart cookie. In fact, she may not show up until the first day of rehearsal. Or final tech. Or opening night. Yes, she’s that illusive.
But not to worry – Kangal’s on the prowl. Remember: I grew up in Iowa, too.