Oct 23, 2013

Daily Working Schedule


I've never really kept a consistent working schedule. This hasn't been from lack of trying. I'll go for weeks at a time getting up early, going to the gym, keeping a journal, making steady progress on projects. Then, I'll get off the mark a little and the whole thing crumbles. I'll go from getting up early to sleeping far into the day. Most of my time is spent drifting through life from day to day, making occasional strides forward. Sometimes, I'll get really obsessed with a project and single-mindedly dedicate my life to it for the amount of time it takes to complete. The whole pattern consists of an absence of any recognizable patterns. I operate in fits and bursts. 

Lately, I've spent a lot of time reading and thinking about artists' schedules and working habits in Mason Currey's excellent book, Daily Rituals: How Great Minds Make Time, Find Inspiration And Get To Work. It might be expected that I would have some insight into what makes for an ideal daily routine. Is there some combination of sleep, work, exercise, coffee, and reflection that is most likely to lead to consistent creative breakthroughs? Or, at the very least, are there some basic guidelines that will stave off blocks and distractions and, you know, guarantee a minimum level of intellectual output? 

Well, kind of, but not really. What I have gleaned from the book is twofold. First, for every kind of artist there is a different approach to doing art. Just starting the day varies greatly from person to person... Benjamin Franklin spent his mornings naked taking "air baths." Writer Patricia Highsmith ate only bacon and eggs. Marcel Proust breakfasted on opium and croissants. Beethoven personally counted out the 60 beans his morning cup of coffee required.

Some artists stayed up late, some got up early. Some took walks, some swam. Some drank coffe, some took tea. Some hit the bars, taverns and cafes in the evenings, others stayed in and read. Currey lays out as many different ways people went about harnessing their creativity as there are people profiled in the book.

The second thing that stands out is that all the creative people in the book - composers, painters, dancers, novelists, poets, playwrights and so on - they all had some sort of consistent daily routine. Even though each system varied, everyone pretty much had a system. Most tackled their work everyday, at least for several hours.

The lesson I glean is that I need to pin down a system for myself. I need a set of routines and an approach to my creative work that consistently turns out the goods. This floating from project to project is kind of a spinning-my-wheels approach, if it is any kind of approach at all.

I'll be paying attention to this stuff over the rest of the year. I mean, I'm a pretty prolific dude now, but imagine what I could put out into the world if I had my ducks in a row.




Oct 19, 2013

Esquire's Life of Man


To commemorate its 80th anniversary, Esquire is creating a living portrait of the American man, ages one through 80. Here's my submission...


Brad McEntire

Born 1975
South West
Entertainment, performing, and fine arts

My story...
I write plays. Draw things. Perform stuff. Married a great gal. Like adventures - the inside ones and outside ones.

The best advice ever received...
Fight to stay excited

I'm most looking forward to...
My second act

Also see it... HERE

RUDNICK part of A VERY NOUVEAU HOLIDAY


My short play RUDNICK THE CANDLE-HEADED BOY will be included in an evening of holiday-themed one-acts by Nouveau 47 Theatre. I'm thrilled to be in such awesome company with the other playwrights involved and that my wife, Ruth, is one of the directors.

Playing December 13, 14, 19, 20, 21, 26, 27, 28 @ 8PM and 22 & 29 @ 2PM

At the Margo Jones Theatre at the Magnolia Lounge, Fair Park, 1121 First Avenue, Dallas TX 75210

More info HERE.

Oct 10, 2013

Kitsch with Significance

A few weeks ago a friend and I met over beers and started brainstorming what a magazine article on each of us would look like. Neither one of us has even been profiled in a magazine, so we started just blurting out what each of our profiles might include. This ended up as a drunken challenge to each other to go home and write our own profiles. Though, in hindsight, this is seriously the peak of narcissism, I created one for myself, complete with a fictional interviewer and photo shoot. It ended up a neat introduction to who I am and what I do, actually. Here it is...


Brad McEntire playwright performer
Brad McEntire                                                   [photo credit: Cornelius J. Wonderblett]

Kitsch with Significance
Theatre maker Brad McEntire is figuring it out.
By F. Thomas Bonnigan - September 28, 2013


A conversation with Brad McEntire can be a multifaceted affair. One of the first things you notice about him is that he likes to talk. And though his topics range all over the map (Nikola Tesla, Texas Independence, YouTube, and so much more) what he always seems to come back to is what he likes to talk about more than anything. He talks about theatre. And let me tell you, this guy has thoughts on all sorts of aspects of the theatre.

We are sitting on the back patio of a mom-and-pop Mexican restaurant in Dallas. McEntire is a large man with broad shoulders. He has small almond-shaped eyes and a wide face. He talks with his hands. Despite his stocky appearance, he moves with an elegant fluidity. He becomes very animated with an edge of excitement in his voice when he gets off on a tear.

His speech pattern is a staccato rapid-fire stream of ideas. He speaks in unexpected patterns, sometimes peppering in hiccups of ums and uhs, sometimes sprinkling in big SAT vocabulary words alongside “awesome” and “sucks.” Sometimes he repeats himself. Occasionally he’ll stop suddenly, gather his thoughts, and then launch back into what he was saying. 

He is on his second beer. He nurses his beers. I’m on my fourth. When I ask him about it, he says it is a habit that he’s developed from being “light in the wallet.”

He holds a cigar between his thumb and finger in his right hand. He takes deep draws from it and lets the smoke drift out of his mouth in a thick cloud. He enjoys his cigars and that is why we are out on the back patio. He likes patios. He dislikes that there are so few places to smoke nowadays. He particularly dislikes how he is sometimes treated as a cigar smoker by non-smokers.

“People are sometimes extremely rude to cigar smokers. There is seldom a polite ‘would you mind?’ as much as they look at me like I impale baby heads on spikes.”

McEntire, 38, has had a productive year. His original commission for Denton’s Sundown Collaborative Theatre, CARTER STUBBS TAKES FLIGHT, premiered in April. It played to mostly good reviews both at Denton’s Green Space Dance Studio and at the Margo Jones Theatre in Dallas’s Fair Park.

McEntire wrote the play especially for the small theatre group, having company members offer suggestions by way of objects, text and images in a big bag. He then drew them out and discussed each item with the whole group. He took notes. He looked for common themes and arresting images. The end result was a play about an office drone who is given a rocket pack by a dying friend. He flies off to a Micronesian island and ends up fighting a tiger.

Rockets, tigers, mundane office culture - these are the building blocks of McEntire’s plays. They are often as weird and haunting as they are hilarious. Earlier this summer he debuted DINOSAUR AND ROBOT STOP A TRAIN. This fanciful piece follows how the two time-traveling main characters supposedly saved a small child from a speeding train. The piece was presented as a press conference. The premise being that the dinosaur and the robot addressed the audience who were, of course, obviously there to hear what they had to say. McEntire’s longtime collaborator Jeff Swearingen played the Dinosaur to McEntire’s Robot.


Oct 1, 2013

Thinking about the big/little

"That’s the thing you have to understand about the whole process of art (or the work that we do) – you’re only half of the equation. It’s an interaction between you and the person who’s going to experience the work. The person who’s going to experience the work is bringing just as much to it and is just as important as you are."

I listened to a great interview today with writer/artist Austin Kleon. The quote above is a great reminder. I am struggling lately getting the work done. Nothing drastic. Just the usual reach into the recesses of my soul and imagination to see if I can cobble together an original idea. Driving home from my teaching gig just earlier today a whole bunch of thoughts on my theatre activities whirled through my mind. I was thinking about why I do my theatre work, how I want to share it and the connections I hope it makes.

Actually, I've been thinking about my theatre work a lot lately. Part of this is because I've been doing a great deal of theatre lately.

Travis Stuebing and Tashina Richardson in RASPBERRY FIZZ
I've been rehearsing RASPBERRY FIZZ with some kick-ass actors. I'm taking it to the Houston Fringe Festival at the end of the week. As I am directing the play I am reminded by the process that it has been a long time since I have been in a sort of traditional rehearsal process. My eyes go to the details of the performances and I'm torn between what I did a lot in my earlier days (shaping and molding a performance out of an actor) and more recent interests in multiple approaches to acting decisions and an emphasis on spontaneity. It is definitely a workout for some mental muscles I haven't flexed in a while.

RASPBERRY FIZZ is a small play. It is a one-act that times in at under an hour. The process of working on it has emboldened two ideas in me... 1.) I love the size of the play. It is small, close, and intimate. It is not a play to run in a large amphitheatre, but instead would work well in front of a few dozen audience members in a cozy venue. 2.) The size also makes me want to work on something large in scope.  This play is like having an appetizer, and I now want to move on to the main course of a mighty feast.

I realize these are two somewhat opposing ideas... the small and the large. I think, though, this can be reconciled. I think I can create a piece that is truly significant working in weighty, important thematic territory, yet at the same time still keep it very intimate. I think of small-cast heavy-hitters like Beckett's WAITING FOR GODOT, Frayn's COPENHAGEN or Stindberg's MISS JULIE. I big/little play. This is what I want to share with audiences. 

I think I know what I'll be doing in 2014...