How do you love your books?

I came across an article the other day that really got me thinking. Written by Anne Fadiman, it was published 25 years ago in Civilization magazine, but it was reprinted by Slate this week in response to a tweet that raised the hackles of book lovers everywhere.

In the tweet, the tweeter (twitterer?) posted a picture of a book he cut in half in order to make it easier to lug on trips.

Here is that photo, and if you're an avid book lover, you may want to sit down for this (graphic image follows):

Horrifying, I know. But Fadiman had something to say about it. In her article, titled "Never Do That to a Book", she proposed there are two ways to love your books.

First, there's the courtly way, in which the reader takes pristine care of their texts, refusing to tear them, write on them or even dogear a single page.

The other way is the carnal way. Disciples of this school (and that includes Fadiman herself) don't just read books, they consume them--and in the most literal sense possible. They scribble in the margins, throw away pages as they finish them, even--horror of horrors!--set them down spine side up.

A sign of disrespect? Not at all. Says Fadiman:

"To us, a book's words were holy, but the paper, cloth, cardboard, glue, thread, and ink that contained them were a mere vessel, and it was no sacrilege to treat them as wantonly as desire and pragmatism dictated. Hard use was a sign not of disrespect but of intimacy."

I have to admit, I've abused my share of books..When I was a kid, my dad had a collection of elegantly embossed hardcovers called the Twenty Greatest Works of Literature or something like that. He kept them out of reach on a high shelf in our rec room, but when I saw that one of them had the intoxicating title of--wait for it!--Treasure Island--I knew I had to read it.

I climbed up on a chair, grabbed the book off the shelf and, for the rest of that summer, took it everywhere I went. Church. Summer school. Camping. Fishing.

I loved that book, and when I finally returned it to its shelf a couple months later, it stood out from the rest of the books in its sheer usedness. The cover was faded. The corners were bumped. The edges were threadbare. And I think it got some fairly significant water damage from that fishing trip.

Sure, it was ugly. But it was the only book from that collection that ever got read.

Anyone who has seen or performed in my play The Enchanted Bookshop knows that Miss Margie, the owner of the ship, belongs firmly in the courtly camp. She scolds the bad guys, Eddie and Fingers, when they toss her books on the floor. And so, when it comes time for them to punish her, they know how to make it hurt:

EDDIE: This ain't the necklace we was looking for. What happened to the real necklace?

MARGIE: I don't know! I never had it!

EDDIE: Tryin' to pull a fast one, are ya? Well, we'll see about that. Fingers?

FINGERS: What books should I start with?

EDDIE: I don't care. Just pick one.

FINGERS: (Grabs a real book from the shelf.) How about Mary Poppins?

EDDIE: Whatever. (FINGERS tears pages out of the book.)

MARGIE: No! Stop!

EDDIE: Are you gonna tell us where the real necklace is?

MARGIE: I already told you! I don't know where it is!

EDDIE: All right, Fingers. Pick another book.

FINGERS: (Grabs another book.) This one's got a funny name. Don Quicksoddy. (Tears pages out of the book.)

MARGIE: Stop! I'll give you all my money! Just please don't hurt my books!

You know, it's funny. I've seen dozens of productions of this play--both live and on video--and not a single one had the bad guys actually tear the pages from the book. They usually just mime the tearing, or toss the books gently on the floor without tearing them all.

I get it. My plays are primarily directed by teachers and I suspect that most teachers are lifelong members of Team Courtly. I mean, they have to be. The books in their rooms get handled by dozens of hands a year, and if they didn't enforce some level of care, within a couple years, there wouldn't be any books left.

In my play, however, I think it's really important to damage the books. It has to be visceral. The audience should feel the tearing of the pages like a gut punch, and in that way, they'll realize how precious books are.

But what if you really, really don't want to damage any books? Well, there is one way around it. Stick some loose pages inside the books ahead of time, then when it comes times to destroy them, pull out those pages and toss them on the floor. The audience will never know it was faked.

Or maybe you can talk your local library into donating some damaged books that are otherwise headed for the recycler.

These days, I take better care of my books. Maybe it's a result of getting older, but my current view is that we never really own our books. We just borrow them. The best of our books will last much longer than we do, and we owe it to those who follow to leave at least a few of the literary treasures we loved so much.

But those trashy little paperbacks? Do what you want with them.

I won't tell Margie.

What I learned directing

And just like that, it's over.

The Last Radio Show closed last night, and although I'm sad to see it go, I'm very happy with how it went. The audience loved the play, I came away with several ideas on how to improve the script (mostly cutting the slow bits), and I even made a little money.

I knew I would learn from experience. What I didn't know was how much I would learn. Basically, a metric boatload. Here are some of the biggest things I learned

1) The actors who complain that their parts are small are often the last ones to learn their lines.

2) As tempting as it may be, don't work on another script while in rehearsal. It's not a matter of time. It's a matter of mental energy. You owe it to your team to focus on the play at hand.

3) That first laugh is the hardest. Put it as early as you can--on lights up, if possible.

4) Sometimes the best thing a director can do for the cast during a long day of rehearsal is buy them pizza and leave them alone.

5) If you don't do anything with a character for several pages, consider giving them an exit.

6) Never ever EVER give an actor a line reading. Unless, of course, you have to.

7) The most important person on your team is the stage manager. Get the best one you can find.

8) It doesn't matter if you think the audience should laugh at a particular gag. If they're not laughing, cut it. There's nothing less funny than a line that's supposed to be funny.

9) Never ask actors to offer suggestions about their characters. They'll give you suggestions about everything BUT their characters.

10) Directing your own play is quite possibly the most stressful, nerve-wracking, nail-biting, agonizing, exhausting experience you ever have. It is also the most fun.

Will I do it again? You bet. But it has to be the right play and I have to have the right team. I don't know when those two things will come together, but I'm hoping that they do at least once a year.

Until then, it's back to writing.

So you want to do a staged reading

I wrapped up the first staged reading of The Butler Did It! on Saturday. And it turned out way better than I ever expected.

We came close to filling both performances, with around 65 people at the 3pm show and 55 people at the 7pm show (vs. a total capacity of 75). The play got lots of laughter and the talkback generated a surprisingly lively discussion, giving me tons of ideas to improve my play.

The biggest surprise? How much kids liked my play. I thought the mystery part would be too complicated for them. At times, even I'm confused by it.

But as we broke for intermission, one young lad loudly announced, "This is so funny!" (If only adults were so vocal!) And at the talkback, another boy--he must have been 8 or 9--explained in great detail how he was sure the rifle-toting grandma was the murderer because the audience was never told whether she was right- or left-handed.

Yes, it was tricky juggling the scripts and the props. But we made it work.

And did I mention this was my first time directing adults? All I can say is it gave me a whole new respect for theatre directors. The constant flow of decisions that needed to be made was exhausting, and I spent much time and energy double-guessing those decisions after I made them.

Sure, I made mistakes. But I also a learned a lot, both about playwriting and directing. Here are some of the things I'll try to remember the next time I do a staged reading.

1) People don't go to an amateur production for the play.

They go for the people. They want to support their friends and family who are going to be performing. The play itself is just an afterthought. So go ahead, invite everyone you know to your reading. But don't waste a lot of time marketing to people you don't know. They're not going to come anyway.

2) Associate with a school or other institution.

We used a theatre at a local Christian school, and it was a win-win situation. We got free use of the theatre, and they were able to raise funds for their theatre program by selling concessions during intermission. And it pulled in a lot of people who might not have known or cared about the play otherwise. Probably 75% of our audience was made up of parents from the school who wanted to see their beloved drama teacher take the stage for a change.

3) Schools are also a great (read: free) source of crew members.

Minimal lighting and sound effects can really make your reading come alive. And many students will work all day for no more pay than the experience and a meal (more on that later). When the performance time comes, don't forget to park a plaintive-looking student by the exit with basket in hand (pre-seeded with your own cash, of course). You'll be surprised how much money they'll bring in.

4) EventBrite makes managing your ticket sales a breeze.

And it's completely free.

5) If you can, do a script-in-hand performance rather than a straight reading.

Yes, it requires more work to arrange for costumes, props and sets. But it gives you a lot more insight into how your play works. And it's a lot more fun for the audience.

6) Two performances are better than one.

I was surprised how important this was to my actors. But it makes sense. They're not getting paid, so the laughter and applause from the audience is their only reward. Doubling the number of performances effectively doubles that reward. And it'll probably double your attendance as well.

7) Be open to change.

At the reading, you're no longer a playwright. You're a director. But you're a director with a unique power. You're free to change the script at will. So if something isn't working, dump it. At the climax of my play, the butler has to make an emergency phone call. The problem? He's tied to a chair. In my mind, I pictured this hilarious scene in which he picks up a pencil with his mouth and uses it to dial the phone. In rehearsal, this turned out to be almost impossible. Instead, we worked out a bit in which he knocks the phone onto the floor and uses his toes to dial. Much easier and just as funny.

8) Let your actors ad lib.

In the same way, give your actors permission to play around with the script. Maybe they have problems saying a particular line and would like to simplify it. Or maybe they don't think a line is in character. If you're lucky, they may find a funnier or angrier or more passionate way to say something. Actors are very good at getting inside their character. Let them do it.

9) But not too much.

The reading, after all, is a test of your words, your plotting, your pacing. If you have a line you especially like it, freeze it. You won't know how well it plays unless the audience gets to hear it.

10) Make yourself available to your actors.

If you're doing your job right during the rehearsal, you're going to look busy--too busy for your actors to approach you about questions they may think are trivial. Questions about the script are never trivial. And the best way to show that is to set aside time to sit down one-on-one with each actor and let them you questions in turn. Don't have time? Then do it when your actors are on break (You don't think breaks are for you, do you?)

11) You will never get enough rehearsal time

I originally budgeted 9 hours for rehearsal. Enough time to run through a 90 minute play at least four or five times, right? Wrong. With blocking, rerunning rough patches and answering questions, each run-through lasted about 2 1/2 hours and we only got three done. And you know what? It didn't matter. The performance went off without a hitch. It's amazing to see, but when the audience shows up, a kind of magic happens. Suddenly the actors hit their marks, remember their lines, show a whole new level of commitment.

12) Run through the entire play at least once without stopping.

If you do run out of time and haven't run through the entire play at least once, do a double-time rehearsal (going through every action and saying every word, but rapidly and without feeling). This really speeds things up and is an extremely effective way to practice entrances and exits.

13) Order too much food.

The last thing you want to do is put on a show with hungry actors. Just be prepared to eat leftover pizza for a week after the show.

14) Print too many programs.

People are always tempted to skimp here. Don't. Your cast will want to take extra copies home. And really, it's a cheap way to make them happy.

15) If you borrow props, don't use anything with sentimental value.

We lost a beautiful period table lamp at our second performance when the lead bumped into a side table. While the lamp wasn't expensive, it was the owner's bedside lamp and turned out to be irreplaceable. Good thing it was the lead's own lamp.

16) Have one of your cast members run your talkback.

Then sit back and SHUT UP! The talkback is not a time for you to explain or defend your play. It's a time for you to hear what the audience thinks about it. Your jawboning only inhibits that. (This was one of the hardest rules for me to follow!)

17) Keep your talkback to 15 minutes.

And make sure your audience knows ahead of time that's how long it'll run. As much as you may love to hear the audience go on and on about your play, it will quickly turn dull for them. And if they think it's going to last a long time, they may not stick around in the first place.

18) Take feedback with a grain of salt

All feedback is useful. But don't fall into the trap of believing that any one commenter speaks for the whole group. I was surprised how many times an audience member would find fault with one aspect of the production--that a particular character needed more backstory, for example--only to be followed by another audience member who said that they liked that aspect of the production. If you get several comments that cite a particular problem, you'd better be prepared to fix that problem. But don't try to please everyone. It'll never happen.