Just Wrought

Recovering playwright, once won a STRANGER Genius Award for theater. Now writing a bloated novel about… G-d help me! Theatre.

Tag: Instant Theatre

  • Uplift of Fear

    I just ran across these impressions I jotted to myself after surviving my stint as a “virgin” actor in the last 14/48. It seems appropriate to post them, with the Kamikaze artists draw less than 10 hours away.

    The terror hit me like a fever about a half hour before the first show’s curtain. The day went by in a punishing blur: a vivid dream in which one is never really sure how much time is going by until suddenly someone is saying “We tech in 20 minutes.” And then someone else is saying, “Let’s break for dinner.” And then someone else is saying, “Places for Show One, people, places.”

    “Thank you, places.”

    I was in the second of seven ten-minute plays. I stood in the house-right vom looking up and out onto the stage, half-watching and listening to the first play, a funny piece about swinger birds by Doug Willott called “Duck/Penguin”. I couldn’t really concentrate on the piece, since I was undergoing a vast existential amazement: confounded and astounded that somehow the individual circumstances of my life had brought me here to this deeply horrifyingly moment. Why was I here? Who does this to themselves? It’s one thing to be an asshole, but only a stupid asshole plots his own very public humiliation. 

    It was an oddly uplifted dismay.  Nothing depressed or depressive about it. 

    And then the lights were changing and the band was playing and I was going on. As I noted in my earlier essay, as an actor, once you’re on you’re on. The terror doesn’t disappear, but it is forced by the demands of actual performance to sit in the back seat and shut the fuck up. There’s nothing you can do when you’re sliding down the mountain except make your goddamned best effort to steer and maybe hope to outrun the avalanche. 

    And then I was marching offstage. And then I was done.  For a couple hours at least. I still had the second show, which now, miraculously, I wasn’t dreading at all.

    By the first show of the second day the process had actually become fun, though terror was still sitting there in the back seat, sitting on her hands.

    (more…)

    Posted at 10:46 AM in 14/48, Horror in Theatre, Seattle, Theatre | Comments (0)

    Tags: 14/48, 24 hour theatre, holy fear, Instant Theatre, theatre festival

  • 14/48 Raises the Stakes Again, then Again

    14/48 Raises the Stakes Again, then Again

    I was going to write another essay about 14/48 running up to this summer’s festival.  I’m an old hand at essays about 14/48. In fact, I once wrote an essay about how an essay I wrote about how 14/48 is partly responsible for all these essays I wright here at Just Wrought.  Talk about recursion.

    I was going to write an essay about how 14/48 serves as a sort of “stealth” semi-annual Seattle theatre convention, encouraging theatre artists of different disciplines, different experiences and varying amounts of “dues paid”, to get to know each other when otherwise they might not. I was going to point out that such a convention has to be “stealth”, and it has to contain as its main component the compressed camaraderie that only producing a show together creates. If someone offered to host a “Seattle Theatre Convention” where we all just gathered to chat, flirt, and share war stories, I am certain nearly no one would come. The younger theatre artists all have better things to do, mostly centered around boozing, bullshitting and getting laid. And the older theatre artists all have better things to do, mostly centered around dealing with the consequences of our earlier boozing, bullshitting and getting laid. It’s not that we old-timers don’t like you, Young Seattle Theatre Artists— far from it.  You are, as the kids like to say, hella fine. But we are never gonna come to your pick-up kickball games or your Facebook arranged Karaoke nights starting after 9:30. Shit ain’t happening. The only thing I start after 9:30 at night is a bath. 14/48 forces us together, young and old, in the only way that matters: putting on a show. Just by participating I have come to know upwards of a hundred amazing artists that elsewise I might only know as names in a program.

    Okay. So that’s what I would have said about 14/48.  And it would’ve been enough.  But the 14/48 powers-that-be have sprung some surprises for this summer’s festival, yet again upping the ante of their game. The first week of the world’s quickest theatre festival will take the form of the oft threatened but heretofore never actually implemented “kamikaze” version.  Normally seven playwrights are selected to write 10 minute plays on a randomly selected theme. The plays, written between 10 pm the night of the selection and 8 am the next day, are then randomly assigned a director who randomly casts from a pre-selected pool of actors. Over the next 10 or so hours the plays are rehearsed. At 8pm, less than 24 hours from when they were conceived, the plays a performed before a rather demanding live audience.  At 10:30 pm they are performed again, before a whole new audience. And then all of it happens again the next day. If you’re thinking, “Wow, that sounds like an ass-kicker,”  you are thinking rightly.

    So what is Kamikaze? Nothing short of more randomness, more risk. 45 veterans have been invited to participate without knowing ahead of time which of the disciplines they will working in: acting, directing, writing, band or design. 14/48 co-founder Jodi-Paul Wooster explains the rationale behind adding the Kamikaze twist: “Over the years, we’ve had a number of talented artists say ‘thanks for inviting me to [blank] but I’ve always wanted to [other blank]’ To those brave folks I say: ‘Careful what you wish for.’”

    As if these Kamikaze rules weren’t wrinkle enough, a few weeks later 14/48 will twist the festival in a different direction, staging it outdoors for the first time at Seattle in the gardens on the eastern side of the Seattle Repertory Theatre. “We can never rest on our laurels,” says Jodi-Paul. “Our audience and artists expect not only new plays but new ways of creating these plays.”

    I must confess a bit of shameful glee at the terror with which many of my fellow invitees are facing the Kamikaze weekend. If you break down the numbers of any given 14/48, you’ll find that actors comprise by far the largest plurality of participants.This mirrors the world of normal theatre. On the other hand, of the 45 total participants only seven are playwrights, or 15.5%. This proportion exceeds that of modern American theatre by an abnormally high value. Normally writers are much smaller minority: maybe two percent, maybe less. For many Seattle actors, 14/48 is the only chance they ever have to collaborate with a living breathing playwright to produce a brand new work.  So the thought of having to wright a new work in 10 hours can be petrifying. One good friend, an actor, reached out to me for advice: “Yo, … can you give me 3 things to help me thru my fear. Maybe 3 tips to help me tell a good if not moderately acceptable story.” I’ll share my reply, lest my buddy acquire any unfair advantage from my advice, which seems damned unlikely.

    Hey!

    It’s all gonna turn out good, you know, and by my math you only have a 15% chance of being drawn as a writer. But still, I’m happy to offer a few tricks of the trade, to be taken with a grain of salt, because if you find something doesn’t work for you, toss it right away.

    1) Beginning, Middle, End. That’s the best trick. You have a situation. It’s static, in balance, but only just barely. Something’s wrong with it. It cannot sustain. That’s your beginning. Something happens to change that situation, throw it out of balance, either from inside or outside, either someone MAKES the change happen or it happens to them. Doesn’t matter. But change happens. That’s your middle. Things happen in the struggle for a new balance to be struck. …. It could be bad (MACBETH), good (MIDSUMMER) or indifferent (WAITING FOR GODOT), but the lights fall on a new order. This is your end. In 14/48 your best bet is to give 1-2 pages to the beginning. 3-5 pages to the middle, and probably not more than 1 page to the end. Your mileage may vary, but do remember, when you hit the end of typewritten page six, you are done.

    2) Start jotting down ideas, characters, snippets of dialogue that strike you. Keep a little notebook. If you find yourself stuck on the night of writing, open this up and draw from it, at random if you have to. Some may say this is cheating, but there’s an old saying in baseball, if you ain’t cheating a little bit, you ain’t trying hard enough.

    3) Trust. You’ll be working with 45 of Seattle’s very best theatre artists, all 14/48 veterans. We’re experts at making this shit fly. You don’t need to do it all by yourself as a writer. (The dirtiest secretest secret about playwrights is that we’re at our best when we are at our laziest.) Trust that some brilliant folks will come in and fill the gaps. And notice that I didn’t say you’d be working with 44 of Seattle’s best. I said 45 ‘cuz I’m counting you. Trust you. You’re fucking awesome.

    Hope that helps. Feel free to bug me some more if you get worried. It’s gonna kick ass though, so don’t worry too much.

    pm

    My last 14/48 essay was called “Holy Fear” and in it I argued that  healthy fear is essential to making good theatre. 

    It is what keys us into the audience’s experience of the immediacy of the moment. If you’re not feeling it, then chances are the audience won’t be feeling much of anything.  And, alas, they’re used to that. If they want “perfection”, they stay home and watch the boob. Our fear as theatre artists fuels the whole machina ex deus that is theatre.

    Oddly, less than two weeks out, I am mostly fear-free. I suppose, like a childish Luke Skywalker, I don’t really know enough to be afraid. And now, having written that, chill bumps rise on my arm, and I hear Yoda saying, “You will be.”

    The confirmed Artist Roster for 14/48 Kamikaze is: Jose Amador; Ahren Buhmann; Susanna Burney; Dave Clapper; Trick Danneker; Nik Doner; John Farrage; Brandon Felker; Bret Fetzer; Mark Fullerton; Julia Griffin; Basil Harris; Alyssa Keene; Erin Kraft; Mik Kuhlman; JD Lloyd; Hana Lass; Teri Lazzara; David- Anthony Lewis; John Lutyens; Corey McDaniel; Ben McFadden; Pamala Mijatov; Pattie Miles Van Beauzekom; Scotto Moore; Paul Mullin; Peter Dylan O’Connor; Opal Peachey; Nik Perleros; Celene Ramadan; Shane Regan; Jaime Roberts; Carl Sander; Charles Smith; Roy Stanton; Allison Strickland; Erik Van Beauzekom; Jonah Van Spreecken; Doug Willott and Anthony Winkler.

    Tickets for 14/48 Kamikaze can purchased in advance at Brown Paper Tickets, by clicking here. I highly suggest you do.  They will sell out.

    Posted at 10:46 AM in 14/48, Horror in Theatre, Seattle, Theatre | Comments (0)

    Tags: 14/48, 24 hour theatre, holy fear, Instant Theatre, theatre festival

  • Holy Fear

    Holy Fear

    More than once someone has come up to me before an opening of some play I wrote saying something like, “Oh, you’ve been doing this so long you probably don’t even get nervous anymore, right?”  My reply is always: “It’s precisely because I’ve been doing this so long that I’m terrified.  I know all the things that can go wrong.”

    In two days I will be joining the 14/48 team as an actor for the first time.  In the parlance of the Seattle’s venerable “instant theatre” festival, I’ll be a virgin, and thus forced to fetch beer from the keg for whichever veteran demands it.  The fact that I have served as a writer four times makes no difference.  Nor should it.  As an actor, I am a virgin.  I feel like a virgin.  And I have a virgin’s fears.  Or to be more accurate I should say, I expect to feel a virgin’s fears.  I just don’t feel them yet.  It’s one of the blessings of being an actor.  You really don’t need to plan that far ahead.  Actors are soldiers in the trenches. Sure, it’s their ass in the line of fire, but at least they have something to do when the lights rise and it’s time to go up and over.  A playwright, like a general, has to watch in horror– sometimes abject, sometimes surreal– from beyond the action.  Of course there is joy too, but a playwright’s joy comes only in flashes until the final curtain drops.  Until then, anything can, and often does, go wrong.

    So my 14/48 virgin actor fear hasn’t hit me yet, but I have no doubts that by the time of the first morning’s “actors’ draw”, when I find out which play I will be performing and who my director and cast-mates will be, my insides will be doing a nasty free-style crawl towards either end of my G-I tract.  And when it comes time to go onstage for the first performance, I fully expect my swollen heart to be thumping in my chest.  This is only right and proper.  It’s how human bodies process performing publically.  And it’s as it should be. 

    A healthy fear is essential to making theatre.  It is what keys us into the audience’s experience of the immediacy of the moment. If you’re not feeling it, then chances are the audience won’t be feeling much of anything.  And, alas, they’re used to that. If they want “perfection”, they stay home and watch the boob. Our fear as theatre artists fuels the whole machina ex deus that is theatre.  The audience gets off on knowing that the train can leave the tracks at any moment.  Ours is the crucible where the experiment of art is performed—not re-enacted—but embodied in flesh and sweat and spit.  If we already know we’re right— if we know from the outset that the experiment is going to succeed— then we are also already dead.  Fear is life.  Fear is holy.  And in these darkest Northwest days just after New Year’s, fear is also a much needed bolus of bright adrenaline.  I plan on nursing it until the lengthening days can take over.

    Posted at 10:46 AM in 14/48, Horror in Theatre, Seattle, Theatre | Comments (0)

    Tags: 14/48, 24 hour theatre, holy fear, Instant Theatre, theatre festival

  • 1448 Afterwords and Forwards

    1448 Afterwords and Forwards

    On more than one occasion I have had an artistic staffer at one of the Big Houses say some variation of the following to me:  “We will do more new local plays when local playwrights write better scripts.”  For my own part, I have always found that argument, just on its face, so petty and mean-spirited, that I never really bothered to respond to it, even though I understand how it tacitly pervades the Seattle theatre ethos and sets up an invisible blockade to our progress towards being a world class theatre city.  But for those who require a more substantial rebuttal to this flimsy canard, I offer you, simply, 14/48.

    From The SunBreak:

    If you’ve never been, you should go. If you have been, you should consider going again. 14/48 is a brilliant exercise in the essentials of theatre–seven world premiere plays written, produced, opened, and closed in 24 hours. And then repeat. If it sounds like another tedious exercise in theatresports, it’s not….  Last night was great for demonstrating that in only 24 hours, theatre artists can tackle tough issues in a meaningful way. There have been funnier line-ups for sure, but the evening spoke to the quintessential power of theatre that’s so often lost in a mix of artful obfuscation and middle-brow pandering.

    http://thesunbreak.com/2010/01/09/a-few-notes-on-last-nights-14-48

    From The Stranger’s Slog

    And, God fucking damn, did I ever enjoy 14/48. The theme last night was “collateral damage,” and we got to see a real variety of stuff: collaterally damaged alien heads, a collaterally damaged baby, and… well, some other pieces that incorporated the theme less successfully….  This was my favorite Stranger Suggests so far. It was fun and me and Law both left ACT with dopey smiles on our faces.

    http://slog.thestranger.com/slog/archives/2010/01/09/yesterday-the-stranger-suggested-1448-at-act

    My own personal opinion?  This past weekend was the best I have ever participated in.  I thought the first night was great, but we out-did it the next, with nary a dud in the line up, and casting karma to die for.  Sure, that kind of across the board success is rare for 14/48.  You almost always get a few clunkers.  (Lord knows, I’ve written them.)  But curiously, 14/48 is, in fact, getting better, year over year.  The reason is simple: the veteran talent is evolving.  Some of them have adapted so well to the process that it’s a little unnerving to witness, kind of like being there when the first frog decides to flick its tongue at a fly.  (Troy Fischnaller and Scot Augustson are gaming the process so well at this point that they really should be handicapped in some way.  I’m thinking some sort of body cast for Troy and mandatory heroin for Scot.)

    By nature, I am a product-over-process sort of artist.  I fervently believe that undo preciousness about how we do what we do points the way towards madness, museums, and MFAs.  But that said, one of the most important things 14/48 accomplishes is never experienced directly by the audience.  The plays go away after that day, but there remains a shadow canon of stories surrounding how those plays got made: Tim Hyland cheerfully recalling how he managed to turn a piece by Carl Sander—a three stanza poem, with no stage directions or character assignments—into standout comic tour de force one night last summer; Tim Gouran comparing the vast number of shows in which he was required to appear nude against the vanishingly small number in which he was not.  (Luck of the draw, Tim.)  It all becomes part of the primordial soup, the necessary substrate, the stories that binds us together as a community of artists.  The Big Houses do little to consciously nurture this substrate.  More’s the pity.

    So. . . Friday night came.  There were seven great shows.  They went up, then they were gone.  Saturday night came.  And it all went up and went again.  Gone.  If you weren’t there, you will never see those plays in that way again.

    The audience’s apprehension of this transitory magic was palpable on the first night.  On the second it was redolent.  They connected and responded to the material.  Deeply.  They didn’t just laugh and clap; they “ooohed” and “aaahhed” and “hooted”, they muttered “bullshit” and “oh yeah”.  They “booed”—bless them— one time fiercely and for a formidable duration after someone on stage wondered if their kid might become a Yankees fan.  (Great play, Joy!)

    Jacob Sydney in Joy McCullough-Carranza's Saturday night play, "Expecting Bobby (or Nichole)" (Photo by John Ulman)

    In a way that almost never happens in that particular space at ACT, or in any of the Big House venues, the audience began to take ownership of what they were witnessing.  They began to understand the fundamental truth that they were the only ones that would ever see this particular show.  So the connection to the material also connected them to each other and to the moment.  This point cannot be underscored enough: it is this ephemerality itself and the community it engenders that we are selling as purveyors of theatre, not as by-products of this or that story, but as the main product itself.  If we do not deliver this, we have failed as theatre artists.  Plain and simple. 

    14/48 feels like a game.  And mind you, it is one: a glorious game, steeped in risk which the audience revels in.  For the time being, the Big Houses refuse to look at what they do as a game.  They seek to minimize and mitigate all risk, forgetting, or never having learned, that it is the risk itself we are selling.  They want to run a carnival with no rides, a candy shop with no sugar, a look-but-don’t-touch brothel, where sets get applauded and actors are interchangeable.  It’s enough to make you want to go watch a movie.

    What new back stories am I looking to play out next weekend?  Well, there’s Darian Lindle, drafted into directing even though she’s due to give birth to twins in May.    And there’s David Schmader, veteran Stranger columnist, but virgin 14/48 playwright.  Uncle Dan Savage can’t help you now, Schmadie.  So buck up, strap in, and get me a damned beer, noob!

    Posted at 10:46 AM in 14/48, Horror in Theatre, Seattle, Theatre | Comments (0)

    Tags: 14/48, 24 hour theatre, holy fear, Instant Theatre, theatre festival

  • 14/48: A Regular Reminder of What’s Already World Class about Seattle

    14/48: A Regular Reminder of What’s Already World Class about Seattle

    It was this time a year ago that I got a wild hair to post a note on Facebook about 14/48, Seattle’s semi-annual 48-hour theatre festival (click here for a full introduction). Basically, I went after one of the festival’s producers, Shawn Belyea, for claiming that in the context of the festival he helped world premiere 56 new plays a year. It created sort of a tempest in our  teapot theatre community.  My earnest praise of 14/48 got a little lost in the shouting. In retrospect, I realize a couple of things:

    1. I sort of bushwhacked my good friend and colleague Shawn Belyea, and that was unfair.  For that I’d like to apologize again here, publicly.  (Although trust me, Shawn got his revenge at the Thursday night kick off meeting last year, where he publicly  encouraged everyone participating to shout “Asshole!” at me, at first en mass, and then later whenever they saw me walking around.)
    2. I think even back then I was unconsciously gearing up for the more formal essays  I am posting here at Just Wrought.  That note (posted below, for the historically curious) was simply an early sloppy skirmish in what now promises to be a longer, more difficult struggle.  (And happily, I like to think Shawn’s mostly on my side for this one.)
    3. I should have put my praise of 14/48 up front, instead of the final paragraph, because I don’t think most of the people I pissed off even bothered reading that far. 

    So let me make up for those mistakes now, by listing some of the ways 14/48 gets it oh-so-right:

    • The Crucible.  The crushing time constraints cook out the preciousness, for writers especially, but also actors, and perhaps most importantly and least obviously, directors.
    • The Leadership.  The crisp, efficient, egalitarian leadership allows for dynamic  creative risk-taking.  Artistic directors at big and small theatres across the country could learn something from the folks who run 14/48.*  They  understand that nailing the logistics—consistently and enthusiastically– and then letting artists be, creates  more, better opportunities for brilliance than Stalinistically attempting to impose their will on all creative decisions.
    • The People.  Every six months we have this amazing informal convention of Seattle theatre talent. Every theatre town aspiring to something more than a dilettantes’ scene should try something similar.  Be sure to provide, however, the correct combination of work, food and beer.  Without hard work, show people tend towards over-compensations of obnoxiousness.  Without food, they simply don’t stay.  Without beer– on hand as it is at 14/48, free and round-the-clock– participants begin to feel ill-used by a brutally ambitious process.  The 14/48 producers have either stumbled on to, or cynically arrived at, a fundamental truth:  buy an actor a drink and he’ll give you his heart’s blood without even thinking.  No one can witness the talent that accrues at 14/48 without marveling how  Seattle has more than a mid-sized city’s fair share of world class actors, directors, musicians, designers, crew, organizers, and—yes, absolutely— playwrights.
    • The Marketing.  14/48 has increased its audience share year over year, every year since January 2006.  How many other theatres, big or small, can lay claim to that sort of consistent growth.  There is no huge paid marketing campaign.  Instead, word-of-mouth drives people to the shows in larger and larger numbers.  Ironically, this can be attributed to a consistency of product.  How can the product be consistent when the subject matter, casting, directors and play order are selected at random?  Because 14/48 isn’t selling “quality” in the staid overwrought meaning of the word as used by regional theaters.  Instead, 14/48 is selling what show people have always sold best: risk, danger, the unknown and the unknowable.  What a wonderful tonic to the tired litany of “craft is king” that I hear over and over from my “respectable” theatre colleagues.  Craft isn’t king, the show is!
    • The Existential Reminders.
      Being a Fool is Your Job. If you are petrified to take risks, fail, or look foolish, you should not be a theatre artist.  
      Everything Disappears. 14/48 sells and celebrates the fact that unless you plant your butt in that particular seat on that particular night, you will miss the show.  That’s leveraging the ephemerality of theatre at its finest.
    • A Free Pass from Equity.  Let’s face it, a key reason 14/48 can get such amazing acting talent working such insane hours is that Equity, the stage actors union, looks the other way.  Just imagine what Seattle actors could achieve in developing new plays if they were allowed the same privilege  of working on them for love under some sort of Showcase or 99-Seat Waiver, like the kind of arrangements that Los Angeles, Chicago and New York actors currently enjoy.

    So . . .

    If you live near or close to Seattle, go see 14/48 at least once, preferably multiple times, over this weekend and/or next.

    If you don’t live near or close to Seattle, consider participating in, attending or founding a similar event.  At the very least, embrace the fact that what makes theatre theatre is foolishness and ephemerality.  Leave your respectability at the door.

    If you’re an artistic director at a regional theatre in Seattle or elsewhere, understand that 14/48 adheres to a model that is probably closer to generating future sustainable success than the one you are currently laboring under.

    *To his significant credit, Jerry Manning, Interim Artistic Director for the Seattle Repertory Theater, has actually participated in a 14/48 as a director.  Whether ACT’s AD, Kurt Beattie has ever even attended one, I’m not sure, but I doubt it.  I doubt even more deeply that, during  what seems destined to be her brief tenure leading the Intiman, Kate Whoriskey will ever go see what happens at this festival.  I hope I am wrong.  My pledge: if she does go, her first free beer is on me.

    Original Note:

    14/48: Not the Full Meal Deal, but a Taste of the Good Stuff

    Tuesday, January 6, 2009 at 9:55am

    The last time I talked to Shawn Belyea about new works, he claimed, with no irony I could detect, that as a producer of 14/48 he was responsible for premiering 56 new plays every year. I nodded, smiled, decided not to argue. I was, after all, trying to win him to my point of view that new works are vital to Seattle’s bid to become a world class theatre town within five years. And, more importantly, I had just bummed a smoke from him and didn’t want to seem ungrateful. But the fact is, I’ve been bristling at that claim ever since.

    It takes me on average about a year and a half of sustained work to wright a play ready for production. For the sake of the math I’m about to do, let’s simplify things and say that one of my plays requires about 1,000 hours of work to produce a final script of 80 pages, breaking down to 12 & 1/2 hours of effort per page. (Actually sounds kind of small put that way, but that’s what the calculator’s telling me, so . . . )

    Now for 14/48 the playwrights have approximately 10 hours to produce 8 pages. That means that for the two plays I’m about to write for this weekend, I’ll be spending 1.25 hours per page. So bottom line: even with all compensations made for brevity, my fully wrought plays have had over ten times more time and effort put into them. They are a full order of magnitude more “finished.” And that’s not even counting all the added effort brought by actors, a director, a stage manager, designers, administrators, etc. To compare that effort to the plays staged at 14/48 and call them both “world premieres” is like comparing a late night jam session to composing a symphony. And to some degree, it’s insulting to both composer and jammer.

    So with that said, here’s what I think the real value of 14/48 is for playwrights: it scares the shit out of us and we love it for that very reason. It makes us let go of our pretensions, procrastinations and bag of tricks to just write for a few hours. It allows us to play with designers, directors and actors, which is SO much fun and SO much a part of what makes being a playwright different and – dare I say it?—better than any other kind of writer. It brings us back into the crucible to live and die by the fire trial that is and can only be live performance. It takes us so long to wright plays that more often than not we are forced to survive long dry epochs out of touch with the raw fear that floods through us at that moment when our work goes up before a live audience. It’s a much needed albeit much too brief taste of the “good stuff”.

    And that’s why I can’t wait till Thursday night.

    You should have a taste yourself, if you can.

    http://www.1448fest.com

    Posted at 10:46 AM in 14/48, Horror in Theatre, Seattle, Theatre | Comments (0)

    Tags: 14/48, 24 hour theatre, holy fear, Instant Theatre, theatre festival