Play 1, Day 1

Slide22

31 PLAYS IN 31 DAYS: Play 1, Day 1

 

LIGHTS UP. STEWART, dressed in decidedly non-business casual, is busily typing away on a PC.  LIZBETH enters, dressed for work.

                                                                                LIZBETH:

Whatcha writing?

LIZBETH reads over STEWART’s shoulder as he types.

                                                                                LIZBETH: (cont.)

“31 Plays in 31 Days.”  Are they’re serious?

STEWART continues typing as he speaks.

                                                                           STEWART:

They seem to be.

                                                                           LIZBETH:

Are you serious?

STEWART stops typing momentarily, without looking up.

                                                                                STEWART:

Perfectly serious. I’m a writer. That’s what writers do. They write. Constantly.

                                                                                LIZBETH:

Well, of course you write. But is this really what you want to do with your time?

                                                                                STEWART:

What, write?

                                                                                LIZBETH:

No. “31 Plays in 31 Days.”

STEWART suddenly stops typing, sighs.

                                                                                STEWART:

I don’t know. I wrote a play a week all spring. And some of those were pretty good. One got read at Playwrights Horizons. This seems like the logical next step.

                                                                                LIZBETH:

What’s new from Play Submissions Guidelines?

                                                                             STEWART:

They just posted August. I haven’t looked yet.

                                                                                LIZBETH:

“A play a week all Spring.” What’s next? A play every hour all afternoon?

                                                                                STEWART:

We’ll see. Lemme try this first.

STEWART returns to typing.

                                                                                 LIZBETH:

So, whatcha got so far?

LIZBETH reads over STEWART’s shoulder.                            

                                                                                LIZBETH: (cont.)

What’s next… We’ll see… Whatcha got?   You’re just writing down our conversation.

                                                                                STEWART:

So?

                                                                            LIZBETH:

So, that’s not a play. Something’s got to happen.

                                                                                STEWART:

Like what?

                                                                                LIZBETH:

I don’t know. You’re the writer.

                                                                                STEWART:

And this is what I’m writing.

                                                                                LIZBETH:

There’s no conflict!

                                                                                STEWART:

Of course there’s conflict!

                                                                               LIZBETH:

I gotta get to work.

 LIZBETH exits, shaking her head.

                                                                                STEWART:

Of course there’s conflict.

STEWART stops typing, stares at screen

                                                                                STEWART: (continued)

There’s always conflict.

STEWART begins typing again. The light shifts, from high angle AM cyan to overhead mid-day white and then a soft PM amber from the opposite side of the stage. Anything else to show the passage of time is good. Perhaps a coffee mug that changes to a cold beer. It’s a theatrical effect based  on available resources. After a minute, LIZBETH reenters from where she left, rests her hand on STEWART’s shoulder and reads over it as his writing comes slowly to a  stop.  After a moment, her reading catches up with him.

                                                                                LIZBETH:

This is nice. It has a beginning, a middle and an end. It has conflict, it has resolution. Nice. 

                                                                                STEWART:

And I wrote it in a day.

                                                                                LIZBETH:

It’s beautiful. Dinner?

                                                                                STEWART:

I’m starved. I haven’t eaten all day.

                                                                                LIZBETH:

You cooking, or me?

                                                                                STEWART:

Oh…

                                                                                LIZBETH:

I’ve got an idea. Let’s go out and celebrate.

                                                                                STEWART:

Can we afford that?

                                                                                LIZBETH:

Special occasion.

                                                                                STEWART:

Let me just post this.

                                                                                LIZBETH:

Let me change from work. See you back here in five.

                                                                                STEWART:

Alright. Aaand… mark.

                                                                                LIZBETH:

“Lizbeth.”

They smile at each other. LIZBETH kisses STEWART.

                                                                                LIZBETH: (cont.)

It’s really good, Stewart.

                                                                                STEWART:

Thank you.

LIZBETH exits, tossing her last line over her shoulder as he exits.

                                                                                LIZBETH:

What are you going to write tomorrow?

STEWART stares at the computer as LIGHTS FADE TO BLACK.

                               

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