An Interview with Cory Finley

Youngblood member Zhu Yi interviews Youngblood member Cory Finley.

Cory Finley

ZY: When did you decide to be a writer? And why?

CF: I’ve always been into storytelling: I always used to monopolize creative duties in childhood pretend games, and the hard drive on the old family Windows ’95 is loaded up with fifteen to twenty of my unfinished fantasy novels. When I started writing and staging plays in college, I got really into the discipline of it, the limitations. It felt like what I’ve always loved doing, but a real craft, a practice -- something I could refine and master. I’ve been doing it ever since.


ZY: What are your favorite and least favorite parts of your body and why?

CF: I’ve got great hands. Tremendous, but surprisingly delicate and kind. They can palm a basketball and also hold a baby bird. My feet, though, look like the feet of an alien. I can’t walk in a straight line: I often run my walking companions off the road. I blame the feet.


ZY: When you are at a party, people (usually non-theatre people) try to start a small talk with the question “So what kind of plays do you write?” How do you respond?

CF: That does always seem to happen, doesn’t it! Things would be simpler if I had a clear answer, like “Southern family dramas” or “plays about cats.” Unfortunately, I’m at a stage in my career where I’m determined never to repeat myself -- in terms of plot, style, or subject matter -- so usually I just dodge the question and try to say something witty about the hummus in the buffet spread.

ZY: COMBO-QUESTION: What is your favorite food, who is your favorite writer, and what do you think that writer would think of that food? Or, alternately, what do you think that food would think of that writer?

CF: I really like a good burger. I also really love Caryl Churchill. I have a feeling Caryl Churchill doesn’t like burgers. But since every burger I know is a big fan of formal experimentation, subtextual menace, and feminism, I bet they’d feel great about Caryl.

ZY: What is your most irrational fear?

CF: Short people.


ZY: When was the last time you were sad? What happened?

CF: This is a great question. I’m sad right now. Because the caffeine from my coffee this morning is fading, and I know it’s all pretty much downhill from here.

I AM THANKFUL FOR JEN SILVERMAN

It's the Monday after Thanksgiving and I feel awful. Thankfully there's brand new Youngblood-er Jen Silverman to cheer me up!

What is the Halloween costume you are most proud of?

The Halloween costume I'm most proud of is also the one I should be least proud of, and none of you would still be friends with me if I talked about it (rightfully so), so we'll just leave that one to the dark mists of history. But I can tell you that after seeing all the slutty cats and slutty fairies and slutty vampires last [Halloween], I've decided that next year I want to embrace my geographic milieu & the zeitgeist of general sluttiness and be a slutty street-cart vendor. OR a slutty Times Square Tourist. I'll walk REALLY........REALLY..........SLOWLY. And show lots of skin above my belt-pack.

Was life harder at 13 or 23?

Thirteen. Definitely. I had just moved back to the US from Finland, and had started at a public high school in Connecticut, after having been home-schooled my whole life. I was home-schooled because we traveled too much for me to be in school (by 15 months old I was living in Tokyo, and my family managed to hit up Asia, Europe, and Scandinavia before high school). Also, because my parents were deeply discerning individuals who thought the American educational system was designed to drain all creativity/ individuality/ zest for life out of kids before they were even old enough to fight back. I have to say that generally I agree with them. Anyway, I went to high school mostly because I was curious about American Culture, and all of a sudden I was surrounded by Americans. Teenage Americans. They were very loud. It was a culture shock for me & everyone around me. I've never regretted that I did it, but I'm still grateful that year 13 is over.

Tell me something crazy about Iowa

There's this tornado siren that goes off at regular intervals during the summer/ spring, but also just kind of whenever Iowa feels like it. It sounds like a cross between UFOs landing and The Whole World Ending. It elicited this Pavlovian reaction from me of abject terror that had nothing to do with tornadoes. Other than that, it is a calm, sane, beautiful place, and I did a lot of writing & teaching instead of hustling & scrambling (which is what I guess I'm doing now). Also, I could bike from one end of town to the other in ten minutes.

Where did you grow up or where is home?

I grew up in France Japan Finland New Zealand Germany Italy Sweden Canada...and Connecticut. (With a dash of Arizona thrown in.) Home is Connecticut because my parents are still there, Iowa because my mentors are still there, Osaka and Okayama (Japan) because my little family of nomad compatriots is/ used to be there, Providence because I went to undergrad there, Boston because I used to live there with a friend who runs a scientific & artistic salon out of her dining room, and now New York.

Was there ever a time when you gave up or considered giving up writing?

Never.

What is the optimum amount of time to go between showers?

I shower every morning on days when I have to be coherent and functional, because I can't wake up otherwise. But in backpacking/traveling/ I'm-in-a-jungle-and-the-water-has-tiny-worms-in-it situations, I've gone for a week at a time.

Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys?

I'm sorry to be misanthropic, but I hate them both. They are both cultural symbols of an enforced femininity/ masculinity that I don't believe in, and a kind of desperate, rabid optimism that makes me queasy. I KNOW I KNOW I'm taking this too seriously. But it's true.

Where is your favorite place to write?

My favorite place in the world to write was in my kitchen in Iowa City, which got the most amazing light. I had a big round hardwood table that was the only piece of furniture I ever spent real money on, and I would use the radiator as a chair. I loved that table more than anything. Pretty much every play I wrote in Iowa was written on it. When I left Iowa City, I promised to sell it to my neighbor along with the rest of my furniture, and then at the last possible second I couldn't do it. I sent him this really lame email where I apologized a few hundred times and offered him my first-born child instead. He was very nice about it all, and the table is living with my brother now. Someday when I am living in places for more than nine months at a time, I'll put it somewhere with a lot of light and love it with all my heart. However in my current table-less state, I roam sadly from cafe to cafe looking for a home. Please email me with your favorite writing spots: jenseptcinq@gmail.com.

New Member Interviews: Willie Orbison interviews Tony Meneses

So Tony, where were you born?
Guadalajara, Mexico. Which if you’re now wondering if I’m legal, the answer is yes.

What was your childhood like?
I’m the baby in my family by a pretty decent gap, so I remember craning my neck back a lot to look up at everyone. To this day, I still don’t know what to do around people shorter than me.

What made you want to pursue playwriting?
I started to notice I liked storytelling in general when I was still playing with toys up to an age that by all accounts would be embarrassing. Once I Toy Story 3’d my childhood, I turned to the page.

What is your workspace like?
I write on the floor actually, and have for a while, which I think has affected how I sit in chairs now. Doesn’t feel right anymore.

What distinguishes a play by Tony Meneses?
I’m actively trying to get the audience to care more. I am interested in stories, with people and realities sometimes unlike our own, that still get the audience to connect to and see themselves in. This can sometimes veer toward the sentimental, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with showing people a humanity worth caring about. Maybe it can then translate into how we move through the world and how we treat others.

Who are your heroes, theatrical or otherwise?
Love me some Thornton Wilder, Caryl Churchill, and Samuel Beckett. Add Virginia Woolf, James Joyce, and Gabriel Garcia Marquez to that literary mix, and we got a party. A special shout out to Oni Faida Lampley for gifting me the most moving experience I’ve ever had at the theatre.

What turns you on/off about theater?
Here are some of my loves: suspension of disbelief, plays with big ambitions, ensemble writing, diversity on stage (preferably a healthy mix of all kinds of identities.)

Bored with: the opposite of what I just listed.

What would your middle school self say about you?
“I see you haven’t gained any weight...”

Where do see yourself in ten years?
I really don’t make long-term plans for fear of mighty hubris striking me down. Ideally though, I’d like to be more stable economically, teaching, writing. Two or three kids would be nice.

If the apocalypse was tomorrow, what would you do tonight?
Dance party.

What are you working on now?
I spent Halloween weekend this year writing a ghost story. Next on the horizon is reading a lot in preparation for a play that I know now is going to require time and thoughtful crafting. Trying to do some homework before and cultivate and broaden my own sense of what literature and theatre could be.

Anything else you want to mention?
A plug of sorts. I have a play being produced through the DCA in Chicago this Spring. Should be a good time. Here’s some info.

Adam Szymkowicz Interviews Darcy Fowler

Youngblood's total domination of the Internet continues! Adam Szymkowicz interviews our very own Darcy Fowler over at his blog. Spoiler alert: It's charming!

Adam has previously interviewed a whole bunch of our current membership. In case you missed 'em:

• Lucy Alibar
  
• Rachel Bonds
  
• Eli Clark
• Josh Conkel
  
• Anna Kerrigan
• Mike Lew
  
• Anna Moench
• Kyoung H. Park

[Plus a whole lot of alums!  List below. - RJ]

• Zakiyyah Alexander
• Annie Baker
• Nikole Beckwith
• Delaney Britt Brewer (as mentioned in the comments)
• Sam Forman 
• Edith Freni
• Ann Marie Healy
• Amy Herzog
• J Holtham
• Steven Levenson
• Qui Nguyen
• Daria Polatin
• Chris Shinn
• Crystal Skillman
• Daniel Talbott
• Lucy Thurber

Meet Angela Hanks

Last but not least, Ryan Dowler interviewed newbie Angela Hanks. Here's what she had to say on childhood lies, the virtues of Texas, and her various writing habits.

Ryan Dowler: When you were a child, did you ever tell an outrageous lie?

Angela Hanks: Of course, man. In sixth grade I told this chick, Anna, that I was a twin. I believe Abigail was my twin’s name. I chalk it up to a combination of that Good Ol' Middle Child Syndrome, an impressive imagination, and adolescent yearning. I am one of five. Smackest in the middle. I think I just wanted some person close to me. Since that past infraction, I've been fine with being the middle child. I love my brothers and sisters completely and wholly and have come to understand how incredibly important they are to me and me to them. I wouldn’t be this fine- ass individual without them.

RD: Where do you like to write?

AH: While I sleep with my laptop, I frequent the computer lab over at the New School. I recently obtained an MFA in Playwriting from there. I am not ashamed that I still write at the computer lab. Not ashamed at all. Sometimes my magical computer location is available. I’ve secretly cried in the computer lab because shit sometimes gets real when you’re writing plays. I have slept over at the computer lab. Seriously, I have. It’s the sense of communion, I believe, that attracts me to it. Everyone is there to get something accomplished.

RD: If you could give any book to the fifteen- year old version of yourself, what would it be?

AH: Bone Black: Memories of Girlhood by bell hooks. I had already read Carson McCuller’s The Member of the Wedding by then.

RD: I think we're the only two Youngbloods/ers/ies from Texas. Are you ready for the TEXAS POWER ROUND?

AH: Yes!!!

RD: Okay, here goes:

Have you ever been to Schlitterbahn Waterpark?

AH: I have!

RD: Isn't it the greatest?

AH: Fond memories, yes. While I did not last on the surfing simulation ride, I have not been dissuaded from putting “learn how to surf” on my To Do Before I Die List.

RD: Do you want to dispel any myths about Texas?

AH: I want to dispel myths in general but Texas and its people feature majorly in my work. Here’s some history for you: Texans were once called Texians for a ten- year period after the Texas Revolution which resulted in the Republic of Texas. But then the United States was all “Eff you guys you can’t be your own country, and we’re gonna start calling you Texans, and wait a minute- are you hanging out with both Mexicans and American Indians! What’s wrong with you? Put a border there. Send those Comanches along the Trail of Tears. And listen you immigrants living in the Texas Hill Country: you’re not Czech- American or German- American or Swiss- American. You’re just plain white, but please keep making your delicious, delicious beer. But Okay: assimilate and adjust”. And that’s how all of that happened. And you know what: black cowboys exist. I know this because I’ve been to the Black Cowboy Rodeo at the State Fair of Texas. And you know what else: racism kinda still exists in the United States. It’s just that it exists more openly in some places. Than others.

RD: Do you have a Texas flag shower curtain?

AH: I do not own a Texas flag shower curtain, but my Texas Driver’s License will not expire until 2012.

RD: Isn't Williamsburg just a more snooty, less diverse version of Austin?

AH: Ha! Yes. Poor, poor Willy B. Get with the Progress Program. I do know some kids who live in Willy B and they’re decent people and I wouldn’t be friends with them if they weren’t ‘cause seriously who has time for jerks?

I don't judge the old contingent of artists who sought affordable rents or anyone trying to find affordable anything but [the artist-influx needs to] maintain an awareness and respect for the folks who first lived in those “affordable” areas, and not by choice, but because financial circumstance limits them to these particular neighborhoods.. I live in Crown Heights which is awesome. It’s predominantly West Indian, but there’s a diverse, community-minded crowd developing. An incredibly dynamic mix of people. My favorite bar there is Franklin Park. One of the bartenders plays some awesome Luther Vandross jams. Because he genuinely loves Luther Vandross. And I genuinely love that.

Austin is pretty rad. It’s eclectic. And Austinites work collectively to keep it that way.

RD: Similarly, last question: How has place influenced your work?

AH: It takes many hours to drive across the state of Texas. On that drive, the entire state changes in geography. I grew up in Dallas. 90% of my plays take place in Dallas. I feel like sometimes I write about Texas to get back to Texas because I'm so far far away from Texas. And I want to be near it but I can't. Not right now, at least.

Meet Eric Dufault and Lydia Brunner

Eric: Hi Lydia!

Lydia: Hi Eric! Well, to begin with the obvious: Where did you grow up? And when did you start to think seriously about being a playwright and why?

Eric: I grew up in Pepperell, MA, a little town on the border of New Hampshire. Very small: horses, foxes, turkeys.

I never had this perfect Road to Damascus "I'm going to become a playwright!" moment. I wanted to be a writer when I was young and impressionable. Somewhere in high school I made the responsible decision to move away from prose writing; I could easily see myself becoming some hunchbacked hermit all alone in the MA hills.

I began writing plays, and that migrated into college, and here I am now. Beyond the collaborative aspect, I like the possibilities and limitations of theatre. For me, it forces a "story-first" mentality. Also, I think you can do weird stuff well and get away with it.

Right back at you: You grew up in CT, right? Did you always live there? Do you feel like it influenced your writing in any way?

Lydia: I grew up in Ridgefield, CT, but I was born in northern California. I rode across the country at about one and half sitting on my grandma’s lap. Ridgefield is about an hour from the NYC and a ten minute drive from there to the town they based the The Stepford Wives on. The town has a Main Street complete with a local pizza place, and a candy store full of middle school kids.

I think it factors in some of my work, but it’s hard to explain how. The isolation affected me, and certainly the lesson that wealth conceals but does not solve unhappiness.

I did not want to be a playwright until a few years ago. My first year at Columbia, I was dragged along by a friend to a reading of a play written by his teacher. We wound up at the bar with the cast, playwright and her husband. Someone bought me a beer, and the playwright asked me why I hadn’t signed up for her class. In the dark, I couldn’t think of a reason not to.

Alright, back to you. What's the weirdest thing you've written into a play? What's the best moment of theater you've ever experienced? And what writers do you admire? Would you say that your work has a particular style?

Eric: I'm going to swap up the order that I answer these questions, if just to make things difficult.

We talked about how difficult and unpleasant it is to describe your own work, so I'm going to tread carefully with these answers.

I'm sure I have a style, though I don't quite know what it is. It's dangerous to try to identify and stick to a single style anyway, right? You just become a parody of yourself. That being said, there are common trends in my writing, and writers who have clearly influenced me.

Though I'm sure they're real common influences all over the playwriting world, the two playwrights who impacted my writing the most are probably Sam Shepard and Sarah Ruhl. I think they do really similar things, one in that gruff cowboy way, and the other in that wistful poetic way. Their best plays both make their own universes with their own rules, but allow them to be really accessible. They're also real funny! Lately I've been really into Mickey Birnbaum and Stephen Adly Guirgus.

Some of my early college-era plays were pretty weird. I grew up reading lots of comic books, and I think the hyper-compressed comic book writing of the sixties fed into the way I thought (think) about stories. I would try to pack as much as possible onstage; there'd be lots of historical figures and talking animals. One play had Vincent Van Gogh, Harry Houdini, Pinocchio, and a pair talking bugs. I think I've become more restrained since then. But talking animals do come up a lot.

Best theater moment as an audience member: I saw some Boston production of the Tempest when I was a kid (it's my favorite Shakespeare); I don't even know how much I understood or enjoyed it, but that motherfucker is burned into my brain. So much magic!

These are good and difficult questions, Lydia, so I'm totally going to boomerang them back to you. How would you describe your writing? Who're your writing crushes/influences? What was the first play you ever wrote? Do you have a "magical moment of theater" story?

Lydia: I too, have trouble describing my writing style. I’d agree that it depends which play is being written and that style tends to follow the content. But I guess I like violence, sex and humor. I’m more interested in families than romance. Most of my characters don’t finish their sentences.

I really like quite a few playwrights. For the more contemporary sort: David Lindsay-Abaires, Sam Hunter, Adam Bock, Julia Jordan, Joe Fisher, Craig Wright, Stephen Adly Guirgis, and Martin McDonagh jump to mind.

My first play was a pretty awful treatise on a doomed romance, full of half poetic language without much plot. But I quickly moved on from that type of work.

I really like theater that frightens you. I’d say the moment in SoHo Rep’s recent production of Blasted when the whole space goes black was probably the most memorable experience at a play. You hear something like a bomb, and then the sound of heavy objects being thrown. You sit in the dark for what feels like an eternity while these sounds get louder and louder. I clutched a stranger’s arm for dear life. Then the lights came up and the entire set has been dismantled and blown apart.

Eric: Wow, Lydia, I feel as if I know you so much more both as a person and playwright! And I’m sure you could say the same for me! Sure am excited to see what we come up with!

Meet Ryan Dowler

Angela Hanks interviews new member Ryan Dowler (the dude on the left, not the chick on the right.)

AH: If you could perform one character from a play, who would it be?

RD: George Deever in All My Sons. Best walk-on ever. Or twenty years from now, Ray in Blackbird. Preferably anyone who’s an asshole and then isn’t an asshole and then still just might be an asshole.

AH: How does music inform your work? Does it? Or do you just like to rock out to awesome awesome jams?

RD: I’m one of those people who listens to one album over and over and over again while I work. It kind of acts as white noise to distract that part of my brain that wants to look all over or daydream or what have you. In high school, it was Weezer’s Blue Album and then a Ben Folds Five album over and over and over, and now lately it’s been Raphael Saadiq. When the album ends and iTunes switches to a new song, my brain goes, “B’wha?” and I have to start the album over.

In general, I always prefer music to no music. My girlfriend Molly and I just moved to NY and we live in this building with all these older quieter people and Molly keeps telling me to turn the music down. I keep trying to explain to her that in the building we’re the Randle P. McMurphy contingent and the Randle P. McMurphy contingent isn’t supposed to turn the music down. If anything, we owe it to them to turn it up. To be fair, it’s all like Ray Charles and Loretta Lynn and its not even that loud.

AH: Where do you like to write?

RD: I just came here from Athens, Ohio where I had the perfect place to write, a place called Donkey Coffee. There are so many places to sit, different rooms and kinds of tables to choose from and every table has it’s own little lamp. What it is, it’s cozy. In New York cozy means small, but in Ohio cozy means smartly lit and warm, with a place to hang your coat. There was a table on the second floor with a big window where you could watch the snow fall and the people walking on the street. There was a couch in a great big room with paintings better than windows, where you could sit and write for hours next to sleeping teenage couples wrapped up in limbs and sweaters and scarves. Not a bad thing to see if you’re trying to write about the better parts of being a human being.

I almost missed out on a year and a half of very productive writing time at Donkey. Athens itself is a place of contradictions as an environment for writing. A lot of great writers – Laura Jacqmin, Dana Formby, David Mitchell Robinson , to name too few -- have come out of Charles Smith’s program at OU lately, but the workload in terms of writing is intense (3 full-lengths and 60 short plays written and staged in 3 years + all the classes on structure and theory + teaching). You’re really getting your Malcolm-Gladwell-10,000 hours- thing, but the location can be very isolating, for good or ill. Winter in rural Ohio can get pretty depressing and I remember I had one of those graduate student therapists because I was having trouble leaving my house.

She said there must be somewhere else you want to go to do your work. And I said there is one coffee shop I like, but I can’t work there anymore because everything I’ve ever worked on there – every essay, every lecture, whatever -- is a piece of shit. It was a pretty pathetic show, but I completely believed it, and walking through the door just brought all that back and it was all very distracting and sad. Finally the thing that happened – Winter ended and I stopped being foolish and in a kind of Saved-by-the-Bell Scheme, I started writing there to get close to another more talented playwright that I had a crush on, who’s now my girlfriend.

I haven’t really found a place in NY yet. A lot of them are lit like a Wal-Mart. I like that Café Grumpy location in Greenpoint, but it’s very far away. Ditto Flying Saucer, but they won’t take any cards. Did you see that Joan Rivers documentary? I want to work in a coffee shop that looks like Joan River’s apartment. That’s what I want. Where you can transition from coffee to beer when the time is right. Also it takes credit cards. And has a little lamp on every table.

AH: You do know that your last name rhymes with another Youngblood's last name, right? How do you feel about that?

RD: Darcy Fowler is actually the first Youngblood/er/y that I met. There shouldn’t be much confusion. She’s much more socially adept and bright than I am. She’s the one I’d choose first to be on my softball team, based on what I imagine leading/being on a softball team might be like.

There’s actually an actress in L.A. with my full name. She’s much more googleable than me. Old friends sometimes contact me to congratulate me on my plays and on playing “Pregnant Girl #2” on The O.C.

Meet Rachel Bonds

Christopher Sullivan interviewed fellow newbie Rachel Bonds.

Christopher Sullivan: Where did you grow up? Do you feel like it had an impact on your writing?

Rachel Bonds: I grew up in Sewanee, Tennessee, which is a tiny college town in the mountains. There are literally two stoplights in the entire town. It's a beautiful place, a very quiet place. I spent a lot of time growing up getting lost in the woods. Though everyone there knows everyone there, so in another sense, it was difficult to ever really be lost or to blend in. It's the opposite of New York. I miss it very much sometimes.

It's absolutely had an impact on my writing. I think it has spurned my fascination in the idea of isolation, in the strange or frightening things that happen in small places. I was also raised by academics, which instilled in me a deep love and reverence for books and an obsession with language.

CS: How would you describe your work? Are there elements/themes/ideas you find yourself returning to again and again?

RB: I'm interested in our quotidien language, in our often inarticulate methods of interaction. I'm interested in "yeah" and "oh" and "okay" and "um" and the possibilities that live in these little words. I'm also interested in theatricality and magic and a character's ability to suddenly speak very elegantly and eloquently. I think my current work explores what happens when these two elements collide, when the everyday world of work and bosses and "yeahs" and "okays" meets with something whimsical or dark or otherworldly. I write a lot about grief. And fear. And death. Dark things. Time passing. I find myself returning again and again to the things in my life that I can't seem to put into words or explain. I keep trying to find a way to explain them. I'm a bit haunted.

CS: How do you balance your work in theater with day jobs/supporting yourself? Do you find there is always a conflict between the two?

RB: I've been lucky over the past four years to have a very flexible job that's allowed me to work from home and fit my writing in around it. In the past year, however, I've found I need more and more time to write and really need to fit my day job around my writing. Working from home has also taken its toll on me, as I've spent a lot of time alone in my apartment with a computer going crazy and suffering from lack of human interaction. I recently decided to leave my job. So. Come January I'm looking for part-time work that involves human interaction.

CS: Any artists/writers/companies you find particularly inspiring lately?

RB: I've been a huge fan of Pig Iron's work over the past several years. I'm interested in devised work and I think they've collaboratively created some smart, theatrical and gorgeous pieces. I'm also an enormous fan of Nature Theater of Oklahoma. I'm a little obsessed with Melissa James Gibson and Jenny Schwartz. And I love Tim Crouch. And I recently saw ERS' Gatz, which I can't stop thinking about.

CS: What are your interests outside of the theater?

RB: I have a background in creative non-fiction---though I've recently gotten away from essay-writing as I focus on my plays. I love to cook—I have a farm share with the Greenpoint-Williamsburg CSA. My boyfriend and I have been making our own pasta lately. I love to travel...I wish I could afford to do more of it. I also love dance parties. I run a lot, too, which helps keep me sane. I'm quietly and slowly training myself to run a half-marathon. What else? Yoga. My bike. HBO shows. Looking for a new job. Cats and dogs. Coffee.

Meet Alex Borinsky

In true tit-for-tat fashion, new Youngblood member Darcy Fowler now profiles fellow freshman Alex Borinsky.

So sayeth Darcy:

Alex Borinsky. I walked into Grey Dog. He was sitting at a small table, scribbling away in his notebook, black coffee by his side. He looked focused, thoughtful, calm. A hint of a smile on his face. It made me smile. I think I figured out why. There’s a light that emanates from him.

The Place

He grew up in Baltimore Maryland, home of John Waters and The Wire. Baltimore, he says, is a very dear but troubled city. Never too big for it’s britches, which was something that Alex seemed to appreciate. Maryland’s also known for it’s jousting. Alex doesn’t joust. Not even a little.

The People

Some of Alex’s favorites include Chekhov, Beckett and to my excitement, The Muppets. He resonates with Gonzo, the strange and kind hearted Muppet that may or may not be from outer space. Favorite Muppet moment: “There’s a skit where Zero Mostel talks about his fears, and all these scary looking Muppets appear.” I you tubed it. It’s incredible. [Ed: link here.  Plus, check out what Zero gets up to behind Sam the Eagle around 5:30 of this one.]

The Playwright

Alex found his love for writing through poetry. But that was really just for himself. He found his love for playwriting at Yale. He talked about one particularly amazing teacher whose very being “oozed the pleasure of making plays and using language.” She always put emphasis on the joy of the process.

Also while at Yale, Alex (who is also an actor) worked with an experimental theatre group called the Control Group. They stretched themselves, experimented and explored. They made plays in houses, and backyards, and lit fires on rooftops during performances.

At school, Alex wrote his first play: The Polish Egg Man, and he didn’t look back.

The Present

He is currently part of the theatre company American Centaur, a group that puts playful twists on Shakespeare (americancentaur.weebly.com). He’s also a huge fan of dance, and his serious obsession with American Puritans is just starting to reemerge.

Alex presently lives in Harlem, amongst many picturesque dilapidated buildings.

Meet Darcy Fowler

As profiled by fellow newbie, Alex Borinsky.


Darcy Fowler laughs very generously and her whole face lights up when she smiles. She was one of the first people I met in Youngblood, and I liked her from the start. I’m looking forward to seeing one of her first plays, The Bird and the Two-Ton Weight, when it goes up this winter at E.S.T.

The Place

Darcy grew up in Massachusetts, on the Marblehead-Salem border. The town is sea-shantyish, she says – lots of lobsters and lobstermen. It’s witch country, too: here and there, a few people still claim to be witches.

The People

Darcy names Nicky Silver, Adam Bock, Aaron Sorkin, Laura Wade, Mel Brooks, the Marx Brothers, and Tina Fey when I ask her about her influences. Then she adds, “And my mother.” It becomes clear that we share a deep, aching love for the Muppets. Of the lot, Darcy identifies mostly with Fozzie Bear, the hard-loving comedian with a heart of gold. Her favorite play of the moment: The Pavilion, by Craig Wright.

The Play

The Bird and the Two-Ton Weight tells the story of a girl who comes home after death of her mother to act as the glue that will hold her family together. She finds a mysterious parcel on the front porch that seems to be her mother’s notebook. The play unfolds around the ways in which this notebook moves the girl through her grief.

Later I asked Darcy how much her plays emerge from her own experience. She answered that they start with her own experience, yes, but that the process of shaping the play involves a growing confidence in a structure and set of characters that draw the play away from the impulse that inspired it and towards a life of its own.

Darcy says that she enrolled at Syracuse to study acting, but that the faculty encouraged her and her classmates to make their own theater, to find confidence in their own voices. The Bird and the Two-Ton Weight came out of that encouragement. It was the project on which she says she discovered that “I had this voice I didn’t fully know I had.”

The Present

These days, Darcy writes, performs with the Story Pirates, and develops a webisode with friends called “You Make My Dreams Come True,” about a group of girls who start a Hall and Oats cover band (http://www.youmakemydreamscometrue.com/. Seriously good.). Though the majority of her roommates are musicians, Darcy at first denies any musical skill of her own. “If I could I would play the drums,” she says, and pauses. Then: “I play the drums when I’m drunk. It’s a great way to get out excess energy.”

She is an ardent apostle of the Ditmas Park neighborhood of Brooklyn.