Sunday, August 2, 2015

A Production Assistant - I hope to never live without one again!

Trevor Barrette, himself a multi-talented actor, singer, writer, director, producer and I'm sure so many other things as well, accepted to be our Production Assistant for our workshop and presentation of Danny Boy.

What a lucky day that was....

A good friend of both my co-creator Chris Barillaro, and our workshop director Jonathan Patterson, I had no idea how much I would come to appreciate this wonderful and talented person, and his dedication to our project.

I woke this morning with the plan to devote my day to working on the show. With coffee in one hand and laptop in the other, I set myself up on our deck, ready to "get down to it", when I opened up my inbox to find GOLD!

By gold, I mean all the notes and changes that transpired during the workshop process.

As a writer, you hope to capture all the subtle adjustments to your script while the actors, director and musical director are working on the stage in front of you, but in the moment, moved by seeing the script & score come to life, it wasn't always the case. My script may be all marked up with notes, but the details Trevor sent is making my job a lot easier!

This might be part of a very long list of what a Production Assistant does, but from someone who has never worked with a PA, this information is... invaluable.

Thank you Trevor!

And congratulations on...
The Montreal Fringe Festival 
2015 Frankie Awards
Most Promising English Company 
(Segal Centre for Performing Arts)
Captain Aurora: A Superhero Musical 
(Kaleidoscope Theatre Montreal)
book, music, lyrics by Trevor Barrette
orchestrations by Chris Barillaro
vocal arrangements by David Terriault
directed by Trevor Barrette

Be who you are. Do what you do. Make it matter.
Have a beautiful Sunday,

Saturday, August 1, 2015

August 1st 2015

It's been so long since I've updated this blog.

I can't believe how much time has passed and how many things have happened since the last time I was here.

While taking little breaks from working on the edits of our new musical, Danny Boy, I've been coming upon files I had backed up on usb keys and various clouds.  Wow! With DB being my main focus for the last 3 years  I'd forgotten the number of works-in-progress I had stored! I've been reading through some of them and  it's funny to realize I have reoccurring themes. Some of which crept into Danny Boy! LOL! My husband Shawn believes all that writing was to prepare me for DB. I think he's right.

Here's one of those little files I came across, it's something I wrote while on the metro one evening. There were a couple of  interesting people on that metro ride that sparked the idea. I filed it away as a potential start to the first chapter of a YA (young adult) story.

By Lisa Forget

When I looked up from whipping Donkey Kong’s ass on my new iPhone app, one stood to the right of the me, the other to the left.

They weren’t standing right beside me. I stood in the middle of the subway train. They stood at the opposite ends.

I knew what they were, sergeants in God’s army. If they were human, I’d think them twins. Thick, shoulder-length hair, high cheek bones, square jaw, regal nose, they were a cross between Michael Hutchence and Jim Morrison —two famous, dead rock stars.

I scanned the people on the train, looking for the one they’d come for. You can’t always tell which ones are monsters. You have to get a really good look at their eyes. Which is hard to do when people have a tendency to avoid, at all cost, meeting the gaze of strangers.

I took another glance at the angels. The one to my left was looking through the window, checking out the train next to ours, the one to my right was doing the same thing out the back.

He turned to catch me staring. I held my breath. Angels don’t appreciate when they’re recognized. I was terrified how he’d react.

His lips curved, and then he winked at me. My eyes widened. I’d never been winked at by an angel before. I didn’t have another second to ponder the fact, when we arrived at Montmorency station, and the doors slid open.

My winking angel’s eyes darted to something behind me. There wasn’t a need to turn around, whatever these two angels came looking for, had just stepped onto the train.

No, I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, just a third one, in the center of my brain.
Some consider it a gift—I think it’s a royal pain in the ass.

However, I opened it up  to get a better sense of what stood behind me.


I shut my eyes, all three of them. I hadn’t prepared myself for the intensity of the evil that had entered.

I lifted my head and peered up at my winking angel. If I’d thought he looked intimidating before, I’d been only half-right. Now, with my consciousness heightened, I saw really saw him.

You can bump up the word soldier to warrior, the kind you’ve seen in epics set in ancient times, when men did everything without the aid of machinery, creating hard, thick bodies able to defend their clans with their bare hands.

The angel’s jaw clenched when he felt my eyes on him. Throwing a reluctant glance my way, I understood his message. Say nothing. Do nothing. Don’t move.

Yeah, right, I got it, but I had to know what we were up against.

“Don’t worry.” I mouthed, lowering my head.

Right at that moment, a woman stood up, vacating the seat beside where I stood. I lowered myself into it, glancing over at the crowd by the doors.

A young dark-haired man stood in their midst. He turned and glared at me with his glinting, dark eyes. I couldn’t look away, even though I wanted to with every ounce of my will. Our gazes were fused, we were joined, the devil and I and he proceeded to read me—mind, heart, and soul.

I didn’t want him inside my head, but as long as he was busy with me, he was leaving everyone else alone. 

The entire time we’d locked gazes, I didn’t breath. Terrified, my heart beat a frantic rhythm against my ribs, as he probed me.

“Descendant, what are you doing? A voice whispered in my ear. “Your talents lie wasted.”

Even if I could look around, I had no need, no one else heard the devil speak.

“I have no talents,” I bluffed.

“False modesty does not become you Anna.”

“I have no interest in what you’re referring to,” I said, my manner bold, countering how freaked out his speaking my name made me feel.

“Yet, here you are, sitting between two angels and me, knowing exactly who and what we are.”

“I don’t know you.”

“Stop pretending, Anna. We’re having this conversation —in your head, remember?” He paused, his eyes widened, ever so slight. “I know everything about you.”

“No you don’t.”

“It is how I knew where you would be today.”

“You came looking for me?”

A grin slid across his lips like a snake. "I came to see if what the prophets said was true.”

“Prophets? What prophets? What would they have to say that concerns me?”

The devil laughed. “Can it be you have no knowledge of your heritage? Your destiny?”

My body broke out in a cold sweat. My hands tingled. My stomach knotted. I felt sick and faint.

“Ah, yes. I understand,” the devil said. “Someone has gotten to you first.”

My arms wrapped around my middle and I bent over, my eyes still locked with the evil one standing across the train.

“My attention was called elsewhere. I’ve been occupied: war, disaster, blood, and hunger, all demand so much of my time. I waited too long to make contact.” His hand swept through his thick, black hair. “However, we have much to discuss. You and I will speak again—in private.”

We reached the next stop. 

The doors slid open.

The devil released me. Our bond severed, I slumped. As my body slid off the seat, the angels held me by the arms.

I looked up.  Their faces radiated a warm light. Behind them, the people in the subway had disappeared, replaced by sunlight and a field of wheat.

(Evil eye by WorryStoneKey)

I'm looking forward to getting back to the stories filed away. You never know, I just might finish them!

Be who you are, do what you do, make it matter