From Laundry Rooms to Theatre Lobbies - the Writing Cycle.

I'm in my laundry room again.....

"Presto Chango...!" 

It’s not exactly like the one to your right - it's smaller and a lot dirtier.  The trash barrel overflows with detergent bottles and dryer lint, the floor is never swept and the one dirty window has been painted shut; allowing no fresh air to erase the constant whiff of detergents, bleaches and my wife’s gardening chemicals. 

But this is where the "MAGIC" happens...

Late at night, when all my kids are asleep and my wife is entranced by The Voice, American Idol or Modern Family, I sneak down to this dank and dirty place to write.

Here amidst the quiet hum of a dry cycle and the pitter-patter of the little feet of scampering cockroaches (or whatever they call cockroach feet), I go to work with only the light of a computer screen on my face.

In January of 2011, I sat down to work on a new solo play about education and Asperger's Syndrome and over the next few months, I ( with a lot of pushing from a good friend/director of mine) completed the first draft of what would become my current solo play, A CHILD LEFT BEHIND.

When I had a first draft good enough to be read semi-publically (or so I thought),  I scheduled a reading with a few close friends at a friends’ living room (one the advantages/disadvantages of having no children), bought some snacks and printed up a copy to read.   We ate, I read, they talked, I listened and then the night amongst people was over.   It was SO exciting.... then back to bugs, bleaches and windowless rooms.

This process went on for the next four or five months until a draft was ready for a public reading at the Katselas Theatre - more people, more snacks and more notes. That reading led to another and another until finally the show entered pre-production at the same theatre and finally, a four-month run that led to numerous wonderful reviews from The LA Times, LA Weekly, Culver City News (amongst others) before moving on to another four-month extension at the Ruskin Group Theatre in Santa Monica; for more reviews, more press and more people.

"His clothes smell so clean..."

After my shows, I always walk out to say hello to the people who attended, answer questions, etc. - some of the most common questions always have to do with my process.  "How long did it take to write the play?", "How did I get the idea?"; "Was it hard to do?" and other pertinent questions about that mysterious thing known as the writing process.

I would be remiss to say that I don't enjoy the attention, it is often time the only renumeration a playwright receives for their work  but the most gratifying thing about standing at the center of the theatre lobby is the fact that I GOT OUT OF THE LAUNDRY ROOM!!!! 

"I can't find a synonym for bleached...!!!!"

A seed of an idea, born in my head and sentenced to hard labor by a judge, jury and jailor of one (me) - the length of which is also self-determined and like Tim Robbins in Shawshank Redemption, it is up to me to tunnel myself out.  It may not be 500 yards of sewerage but at times it certainly feels like that's what I'm writing.  Sometimes, the sentence is for life - a piece of writing that I know I will never finish and when I am in the mood for self-flagellation, down to the laundry room I go...

I don't do this with TV & film scripts - those are written in the bright light of my dining room, on top of a round hickory table with the kitchen, TV and all surrounding modern conveniences at my disposal. (except of course a washer and dryer).  

But there is something about a play - it's intimacy - it's more personal nature and a play's need to reveal more than entertain that forces me down into the darkness of my laundry room.  But the process of tunneling myself out is magical and always gratifying.

Recently, I was contacted by the Cedars Sinai Hospital to perform my current play for their parental outreach program.  It will require several rewrites to comply with some specific requests they have made of me.  This will require me heading back down....   And so it begins all over again and again and again - a cycle - like washing my clothes.

Originally from Boston, Alan Aymie is a critically-acclaimed writer, performer, educator in Los Angeles where he lives with his wife and children.  His current play, A CHILD LEFT BEHIND, is playing around and outside Los Angeles.