So why the title?

So why the title, “Seducing the Audience?”

To give some context, and to take a little stroll down the lane of memories, it all started when I tried to write my second play, “Willie and Solange.” My first play, “Owl” had been the typical autobiographical effort about being a kid growing up in Hollywood with my Dad struggling as an actor in the movie business and my stepmom singing torch songs in all the watering holes up and down Ventura Blvd in the San Fernando Valley. As in:

“Don’t know why… there’s no sun up in the sky… stormy wea…”

(dropping down an octave…)

“…ther…. Since my man and I ain’t to…

(dropping down an octave…)

“gether. Keeps rainin’ all the time….”

All sung in the lowest possible throaty angst-ridden existential croak!

I even had some success with Owl. It won a (very) small literary prize and two theaters said they wanted to produce it… sometime… somewhere… eventually… in another space-time continuum… after the funding came in… So it was all a bit intoxicating at first.

When I turned to writing my second play, however, I… ahem.. . actually… had to… err…. you know… Well… try to make stuff up. So I soon grew bewildered and confused. Perplexed, despairing, I submitted it to the Sewanee Writers Conference. A few months later I found myself sitting across a table with Horton Foote, Academy Award winner, Pulitzer Prize winner, and all-around great man of the American theater. It was a stifling Tennessee afternoon in the middle of Summer and there was no air conditioning in the building (or at least it felt that way as I sat sweating in my little chair!) We were there for some “one on one” time where he was to give me “notes” on my humble effort.

Running his hand through his snow white, flowing hair, Mr. Foote began by asking me (in a lovely modulated Southern voice) what I thought of the play. Well, of course, I thought it sucked but how was I going to say that to him? So I meandered on about this and that and the other thing until he finally cut me off and said the lines that I’ve quoted above about my caring only for “seducing the audience.”

And then he added….

“This play is nothing but improvisation.”

And then he added….

“There is nothing of integrity here.”

And then he just took the play apart for the next two hours… line by wobbly line… page by incoherent page… scene by faulty scene…

At the end, he said “I don’t mean to distress you, Mr. Munson.” (What? Distress me? Are you kidding? Never laid a glove on me! Oh, and where did I put that noose to hang myself with when I get back to my dorm room?) “I only want to help you as I feel you have a… a… a… “

He searched for a word here and then finally said…

…. “a facility for this… and I sincerely would like to help.”

I remember staggering back to my room and thinking, “At least it’s settled. I have no talent. Good. I can now go back to repairing mufflers with a clear conscience and a light heart.”

It was only later (after I called my wife, Beatrice, and moaned and groaned and cried a little) that I realized he was trying to help me and that I should take his wise words to heart. Of course I was trying to “seduce the audience.” Of course it was nothing but improv. Of course it was a wee bit short on the old integrity meter! Guilty, your Honor! Guilty as charged!

Perhaps I still am!

And what better way to “seduce the audience” than to write a blog? Will I never learn?

So what do you think, oh readers? Seducing the audience? A worthy goal? Or a shameful pandering? Let me know what you think!