Write Out Front

Write Out Front is an installation of seventy-six award-winning and up-and-coming (so much sexier than “emerging”) playwrights writing new plays in the window of the Drama Book Shop in New York City while the screen shot of their computer is shown on a forty inch monitor facing the street, making their writing process visible to the passerby.

This is the drill:

The Playwrights come in for two-hour time slots with their laptop, which is oh-so-lovingly hooked up to the large monitor. They are greeted warmly. They sign a poster that says “Watch Playwright _________(name)_____________write a new play” which is then taped to the window so that people on the street know who is writing and know that that person is worth knowing. (The other day people were outside taking pictures and a black Mercedes pulled up. The woman inside yelled, “Hey! Hey! Who’s that? Who’s in the window?!” I told her it was the playwright Mel Nieves. “Cool!” she said. I don’t think she knew who Mel Neives was, but she does now, which I think is a good thing.

The playwrights are then offered coffee and bottled water. (Signature Theatre Company provides the coffee—they have a display in the other bookstore window for Sam Shepard’s current play Heartless.) There are a couple things on the desk to make it homey—a cup that says “Write Like a Motherfucker” filled with colored pens and a small vase with a flower that is usually alive. The Woffers (Write Out Front-ers) bring stuff from home to make the space more “theirs.” Playwright Cecilia Copeland draped a scarf over the desk and added her bronzed baby shoes (in addition to a snack of aged parmesan cheese, bread, and vino); Crystal Skillman put a poster on the wall of the hero’s journey and donated some Pop Rocks to the installation; Tommy Smith cleared the desk completely and hooked up some speakers to his computer (the store asked him to turn down his music and since he likes to blast it—he put earphones on).

Write Out Front is an installation of seventy-six award-winning and up-and-coming (so much sexier than “emerging”) playwrights writing new plays in the window of the Drama Book Shop in New York City while the screen shot of their computer is shown on a forty inch monitor facing the street, making their writing process visible to the passerby.

The writers also bring something to donate to the WOF Wall of Inspiration. The wall is an ever-growing communal collage of inspiration visible to the street and the visitors to the Drama Book Shop (part of the wall will be donated to charity, and part of it will be framed and is available as a perk to contributors to the Indiegogo funding campaign). They add their item to the wall while I take a picture.

After the writer has been plugged in and fortified with beverages, they are left “alone” to write. While they write, their picture is taken and Tweeted, Instagramed, Facebooked, and later compiled into a weekly video documenting the installation which is then uploaded to Theaterspeak. People have asked if the writers can go on Facebook or surf the web. There are no stipulations about this. I want to show the writers’ process as it is and make no judgments about it. Writers can do whatever they want as long as it’s relatively legal (and if it happens to not be legal we’ll deal with that later, just don’t tell me ahead of time). You can go outside and smoke (Stephen Adly Guirgis), talk to fans (more than a few writers), answer questions from aspiring writers or actors (more than a few writers), and write your ass off (every writer). One of the writers (Rob Askins) was game enough to come back in and clock in as The Unknown Playwright (with the requisite paper bag over the head) paying homage to every writer who continues to write despite the odds, and often without acknowledgement.

Some of the people who stop on the street are theater people, but many are not. One woman, who was taking a security guard class next door, would come down on her breaks to read the plays as they were being written. She said it was the best part of her day. Another couple stayed the whole two hours reading a new play by Sheri Graubert. (Note to self: next year—bench.) The other day, a father and son were reading the play on the monitor and acting out the parts as they were being written. They were visiting from Buffalo and it turns out the kid, Declan, wants to be a writer (and a director), so I arranged a time for them to come back before the store opened so he could write in the window. Declan, who is ten, asked me if he should write about Bob Dylan, a couple bank robbers, or Freddy Mercury. Afterwards, we talked about Dog Day Afternoon and Reservoir Dogs. Did I mention that this kid is ten? (He ended up writing about the bank robbers and set it in 1972.)

Once the writing session is over, the Closing Ceremony begins—it starts with an interview on camera about what it’s like to write in the window, then they choose between a gold and silver Sharpie and sign the desk (the aim is to donate the desk as well), and then they use a brightly colored pen to write inspiring words or advice for the next writer on a large poster board, which will then be donated to the Voices Inside/Out Project—a program that teaches playwriting in a medium security prison and then gives the plays readings in New York City. (Ten percent of all contributions to the Write Out Front Indiegogo campaign will also be donated to Voices.)

Sometimes hugs happen. Everyone seems a little more relaxed and open after their time in the window. Perhaps it’s because they’ve gotten some good writing time in (more than a few writers have said they got more done than they thought they would), or perhaps it’s because they’ve done something that was slightly outside their comfort zone, but either way, space was given, work was created, and a playwright was able to be Write out Front.

For next year: a twenty-four hour installation, longer writing slots, in every city. What say you?