Treat the Text Like Poetry: How Would You Work a Monologue??

Okay, so I just wanted to share a little slice of work with you. Whenever I approach a monologue or piece of text that I plan to perform, I divide the work into artistic beats. This really allows me to create an honest delivery and a literary aura of contextual realism. So - what I normally do is the following: divide the monologue into beats that I type up, print out the piece of paper, and handwrite the various objectives, relative personal experiences, and other artistic mechanisms to create an honest portrayal of the work. The following is Portia's famous monologue in THE MERCHANT OF VENICE and I love it. All I did so far was divide the piece into beats - I would normally incorporate the necessary work for it, but, as I'm not getting paid, I don't wanna give away all of my secrets, now do I??!

I pray you, tarry: 

pause a day or two

Before you hazard; 

for, in choosing wrong,

I lose your company: therefore forbear awhile.

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There's something tells me, 

but it is not love,

I would not lose you; and you know yourself,

Hate counsels not in such a quality.

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But lest you should not understand me well,--

And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,--

I would detain you here some month or two

Before you venture for me. 

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I could teach you

How to choose right, 

but I am then forsworn;

So will I never be: 

so may you miss me; 

But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin,

That I had been forsworn. 

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Beshrew your eyes,

They have o'erlook'd me and divided me;

One half of me is yours, 

the other half yours,

Mine own, I would say; 

but if mine, then yours, 

And so all yours. 

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O, these naughty times

Put bars between the owners and their rights!

And so, though yours, not yours. 

Prove it so,

Let fortune go to hell for it, 

not I.

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I speak too long; 

but 'tis to peize the time,

To eke it and to draw it out in length,

To stay you from election. 

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"Creep"

Miss Creole Prior

Day 1

I hate small spaces, which is odd. My people love small spaces. But the feeling of being so trapped by a mass of conglomerated molecules sucking you in, as only gravity can, will fully consume you, devour you whole and betray each breath you wanna breathe by taking ‘em all away. This misfortune has plagued me my entire life despite finding myself in narrow walkways, oak cupboards, the dreaded vet crate, etc. The list goes on. But tonight, the world is my oyster - no closed space for me, in any shape or form! So I leap through the cat door in my old Brooklyn home to enjoy the wonders of the city! And, speaking of oysters, hoping to find a few behind Extra Fancy on Driggs, I begin my night. The manager always gives me leftovers as long as I stay quiet about Mr. GoldBanks and his new mistress. They’re their together every friday and considering he’s still married with children, any word that got out about them  would be one of the greatest scandals since Shadow had her thirteen kittens without knowing the babies-daddy... But that’s another story.

So I had to go to my usual spot at Fancy’s, in the back - sometimes he’ll have food laid out for me, but... not tonight. I peeped through the window and he was still there. He must have had a rough day and I didn’t really wanna bother him. So I crept over to the other window to see my favorite illicit couple, the mistress was always so nice to me. They saw me through the window and smiled, and the mistress insisted that I sit with them for dinner. I couldn’t resist her bidding, so I decided to enjoy the night with them and try and understand their silly little language, full of elongated verbs, nouns, and drunkenly slurred speech. She seemed really sad. So I sat on her lap to make her feel a little bit better purring to push the pain away.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said.

“Why not?” He asked.

“You’re married with children, and... I’m pregnant.”

Day 2

After the long night of tears and eruptive discussion, I took back home and slept in my wonderful temper pedic for kitties mat! How I love that mat so!! In case you didn’t catch it, my name is Creep, its short for Creole Prior, so I just go by Creep. At any rate, today’s the day I do nothing but wander in and out of the cat flap and do pretty much whatever I want. I’m supposed to meet Shadow for a stroll in the park, but she has a hair appointment and can only go after dark, which I don’t mind. I have built in night vision, so I can see clear as a day.

Well, it’s time for our walk and it keeps getting darker and darker and we hear shots. We notice a young girl, likely heading to her apartment, wallet in hand, and we approach her to speed up her case. The opposite happened and she just wanted to play. No - we were telling her the best thing we could do is walk faster so we started running. She didn’t really get the hint. 

A man came up to her from behind and said “Hand me your wallet miss or I’ll shoot.”

She stood frozen.

And said, “My money’s in my apartment, can I go back and get it?”

He said “No, give me your cell phone.”

The young girl obliged and persuasively begged to go back to her apartment for the money and he permitted.

She got the wallet back in hand but they still had her cell phone!! 

Well, knowing how the NYPD works she probably got it back in no time

(Which she did because it happened to this writer, with those two cats. I believe they were trying to tell me something...)

Day 4

It is in a cat’s inherent nature to creep. They don’t aimlessly wander, unless there’s a specific circumstance in which they are obliged to. Their movements are controlled, motivated, creeps. A creep is a move with intent, with structure, with divinity. It transcends the blocked spaces we so often find ourselves surrounded by, fostering a stream of movement between these formations and rustic developments. There is such an art to it, an art that often goes unrecognized. The term creepy has long since held a negative connotation, but we, in the feline community, have viewed it as a golden term that touches God. To be creepy means to be pure, true, and flexible. And flexible in all its spheres, including within the social, cultural, and physical realms. To use the word creepy to describe a figure who is moderately insidious is a disgrace to its true, Universal name.

Well, tonight, Mistress invited me to a fashion show. They were allowed to bring pets, how could I pass that up?! So we got there and I sat in her lap purring at all of the bright lights and beautiful people. We were watching for what felt like hours and then the grand finale finally hit us, my favorite part. As we watched, all of the models were in perfect formation, besides Kaylee Klass, who tripped because she was too above the notion of creeping. Creeping the way that we do so we always land on our feet, to cut the appropriate corners to remain on our path.

And I always land on my feet.

Thank God the pregnant woman was the designer of the show because she found me with my owner and declared,

“I love the way you creep.”

Always landing on my feet.

Express Yourself: Why Is It So Difficult Sometimes??

The way I feel sometimes cannot be captured through an essay - through a linkage of words that surround a thought or sequence of daydreams. Yet I still find myself hanging onto a quotation I find online, in a romantic book, or favorite motion picture. (I would list all of them but that would take up pages of blog space and neuro-links in your mind). At any rate, sometimes I need a little help expressing myself, and I would love to do it all on my own - with my own language, with my own writing, and with my own thoughts. I often have a terribly difficult time unmasking my own mind to the world, so I cover up this sense of minuscule insecurity through someone else’s words in someone else’s article in someone else’s, as I said, linkage of words. For example, instead of sharing my own writing - like I am now - I’ll find an article that perfectly says what I want to say. But why can’t I do it myself?? I have no particular disability, besides fear, and I have a brain on me that many would be grateful to have - but why am I so fearful of using it and displaying my mind the way it should be displayed?

Why can’t I express myself without the validation of an article or silly little quote?

So, as I’m trying to keep this short and sweet like all of my posts, I would like to ask my readers what they do to allow themselves to become fearless writers and artists. Do you have any techniques or tricks that allow you to express yourself the way the Universe intended you to express yourself without relying on a quote that you didn’t even come up with?? I’d love to hear your thoughts.