Millay Residency Photo Journal
Darlene and I are currently at our annual January writing retreat, after a one-year coronavirus induced hiatus. I decided to use this opportunity to do a final post on the Millay Arts residency we recently completed between Christmas and New Year’s Day.
Both of us took photos of the house in which we stayed and worked, and the grounds. A snowstorm simply enhanced that natural beauty that enveloped us. Several of the photos are shared below.







So there is our residency in photographs. I hope it give you a sense of what a magical week it was! I would return without hesitation.
How to Finish the Year
This past summer, Darlene and I applied for the Wintertide Residency at Millay Arts in Austerlitz, New York (near the Massachusetts line, just on the edge of the Berkshires). Millay Arts is located at Steepletop, the home of Pulitzer prize wining poet Edna St. Vincent Millay. The residency would be for the week between Christmas and New Years’ Eve, and we would each have our own studio in which to work. Happily, both of our applications were accepted, so we checked in here on Monday.

Darlene came with the intent to use her time to complete an extensive revision on her novel; I arrived to do research on the television series, as well as work on many of my own projects. Darlene set up in the writing studio, while I chose an artists’ studio. I have never written in an artists’ studio, but there was space and several tables upon which to spread out, and the floor was covered with the paint splotches. I relished being in a room that an aura of so much creativity. I did rewrites on two of my features, one on a television pilot, and another on a stage play. I did some work developing the story for a new feature–and got an idea for yet another, for which I free wrote an outline. And, of course, daily blog posts!

It turned out to be a superb residency for us both–we made significant progress on our work, enjoyed a daily walk to get out of our chairs, and as you can see the setting was beautiful. We also had the good fortune to share the space with Maine visual artist Jennifer Schmitt. Jennifer turned out to be both disgustingly talented and a lovely person.

As I write this, it is about ten in the morning on New Year’s Eve. We have to be out of here in about two hours, and while we have thoroughly enjoyed our time here, we are sad to see it end. Neither Darlene nor I are interested in leaving–we want to stay and write for as long as we can. Reality, however, has an annoying habit of beckoning. A beckon that cannot always be resisted.
2021 was challenging in so many ways. This was the perfect way to end it. Here’s hoping for a better 2022.
Greetings from the US Army
Don’t worry, I haven’t enlisted. The title is the opening sentence of an email I received in August from someone named Amy Kosby, who has the rather lengthy title of Program Analyst, G9, Copyrights and Royalties, Leisure Travel, Arts and Crafts, Installation Management Command. In short, it’s her job to locate and obtain entertainment for active U.S. Army members.
The rest of her message continued: “I am the Music/Theatre program manager for the U.S. Army and I have a theater in Kaiserslautern Germany that is interested in performing ARCHETYPES IN REHAB.” Archetypes in Rehab was performed at the 2017 Play in a Day Festival at the Playhouse on Park Theatre in West Hartford, Connecticut. It was a play I had written overnight sitting in theatre in which it would be performed the very next night. Four years later (almost to the day), I was receiving a request to have the play performed again. By the United States Army. For troops stationed in Germany. And I would be paid royalties.
I have had some surreal things happen to me, but this one was hard to beat. I immediately began to suspect that it was some sort of scam…but to what end? They were not asking for my social security number, or any other sensitive information. It was also very elaborate–if it was a scam, someone decided to make up Amy Kosby, a story about staging my play in Germany, and each communication written with the various bureaucratic flourishes of unclassified military communication. It was a long way for a scammer to go for not much payoff.

It also appeared that my play was discovered on the New Play Exchange, which exists as a place for producers to locate plays for possible production. In other words, Ms. Kosby found Archetypes in Rehab in a place that was designed specifically for that purpose. With suspicions largely corralled by my sense of reason, I gave permission for the performance. Ms. Kosby then requested an invoice for royalties, and she would be certain to send a check when the performance was completed.
I immediately contacted members of my playwright network, unsure of what a playwright with few credits in front of a nonpaying military audience should charge for royalties. With their advice on board, I submitted an invoice to the United States Army. There were, indeed, a lot firsts for me in this transaction.
Ms. Kosby thanked me for the invoice, and let me know that the four performances would be September 17-18 and 24-25. I would have loved to have hopped on a plane to Germany to see the performance–I imagine it wouldn’t have been too difficult to arrange a pass, and it was hardly likely the play would be performed in the most secure wings of the base. However, it just wasn’t practical or financially viable. So I was left to hope for the best.
I still have no idea how the performances went, or how the audience reacted. I do know that my very first royalty check as a playwright arrived in the mail around the first of October.
Plenty of Distance, Not Much Learning
Those of us who are professional educators probably want to shoot the next administrator who starts a conversation and/or email that begins with the phrase “In these unprecedented times…” Not only is it an unnecessary modifier (does it actually deepen our understanding of what follows?), it is intolerably cliché. It reminds me of a line from the television show Doc Martin:
“If it goes without saying, why are you saying it?”
Of course, what ostensibly makes these times “unprecedented” is the global Coronavirus pandemic. Historians, however, might take exception to that statement. There have been many pandemics in history (Live Science lists the twenty worst here) so it seems facile to describe this pandemic, as awful as it is, as unprecedented. However, one thing that is unequivocally without precedent is the affect that COVID-19 has had upon educational instructions. When the Spanish Flu (which originated in Kansas) hit a century ago, approximately 60% of children attended schools. Today, that percentage is approximately 96. So the Kansas Spanish Flu affected schools had to figure out how to continue to educate a significantly smaller percentage of the population than today. Of course, their response was just to keep kids in school, as many of the urban schools at the time offered better hygiene than could be found in tenements and crowded neighborhoods. Today, the decision was made to keep students at home and continue to educate them remotely via their internet connection.
Even though it’s been seventeen months since the pandemic shut down schools last spring, I have not chimed in about the phenomenon of distance/remote learning. The reason is I wanted to spend some time experiencing the different forms, study the research and put careful thought into deciding how I felt about it. My knee-jerk reaction is that it was going to be terrible, but I felt teachers had an obligation to make it work as well as we possibly could. So, I chose to keep an open mind and see if reality and research affirmed or refuted my initial reaction. And after a year and a half of experience, discussions with colleagues and students, and a dive into the research, what is my conclusion?
It is terrible.

First of all, there are a variety of distance learning models that school districts have imposed: one is full distance learning, where every student is at home and the teacher instructs via computer. There is hybrid, wherein half the class is at home and the other half in school for part of the week, then switch places for the rest of the week. Then there is the live stream model wherein some students are in school every day of the week, and others are home every day. Since last March, I have taught using all of these models. While the live stream model is far and away the best approach, it is by no means an ideal way to teach.
Do not get me wrong: I am aware there are students who do well with this model, because they are independent and self motivated. They, however, also do well when they attend in person class, so it’s hard to make the case that remote learning is somehow preferable for those students. I also had three students do well enough to pass my class last year once they were at home, as they were no longer distracted by their social groups and no longer incentivized to blow off their work because it was “cool” to fail classes. I firmly believe that these students would not have passed my class had they continued their in person learning.
Having said that, the number of students who did not succeed dwarfed the number that did. It’s not difficult to see why. For many young people, the ability to focus on academics is challenging enough in an school environment that is conducive to academic focus. Take that away, and then leave students in a place where they are surrounded by all of the things that compete even more heavily for their attention. You don’t need to be on staff at Columbia Teachers College to ascertain what is going to happen next (or what is not going to happen).
That doesn’t take into consideration the students with learning disabilities and/or are neurologically atypical. Many need the structure and the tactile instruction essential for them to learn. Many cannot learn at home without parental support, and if parents are working, there is none to be had. Many students also don’t’ possess a device or quality Wi-Fi in their homes, which makes it very difficult to attend class regularly. Over the next several years, you can expect a significant number of civil rights lawsuits for students with disabilities who did not succeed distance learning.
There is also the social aspect. Whilst anyone who teaches is aware the texted that students engage in what appears to be largely unnecessary drama, and are not always kind to each other, most of them need the social interaction that school provides. As you have no doubt experienced yourself, spending a day at a computer screen interacting with others is paradoxically isolating. Our brains really require the physical presence of others to feel any meaningful connection. For young people who are still developing emotional intelligence (and still lack fully formed frontal lobes), the dearth of social interaction could end up having the most acute long term affects on the students.
There’s also the physical aspect. It is simply not healthy to sit and stare at a computer screen for hours upon end. Aside from the somatic stress on your body from sitting, absorbing the persistent screen radiation is draining for both students and teachers. Yes, we sit a lot at school and use our computers, but there are other types of classes (art, music, physical education) that can offer relief from sitting and staring at a screen. Even walking the hallway or the stairs to the next class is good for you. All of those benefits vanish during distance learning.
As my friend and colleague Nick Ferroni points out, teaching is a vocation built upon relationships. We succeed largely based upon how well we can nurture those relationships. It encourages students to trust us, to cooperate and put in their best efforts, and allows us to immediately intervene when students are not putting in their best efforts or are struggling emotionally. It is very difficult–if not impossible–to form those types of relationships with someone on a computer screen. As Nick puts it, remote learning takes away the best tool we have to be effective.
The research is bearing all of this out. Students are not as successful, they don’t enjoy distance learning, and they are finding that it is adding unnecessary stress to their lives at a time when life is stressful enough, thanks very much. Of course , the problem is scalable: while it is preferable to have some or even most students in the classroom, the percentage that are struggling with distance learning remains static. Of course, while many school districts have said they will return to full time in class learning this fall, we know what could all change depending on vaccination rates and the vigor of the Delta Variant.
Thus, distance learning isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. However, let’s not kid ourselves into thinking that it is an effective model. While it may be necessary to once again resort to it. it will at best be a necessary evil.
Zooming “Invincible Summer”
Let’s face it: Zoom is not the ideal way to experience theatre. It is arguably not the ideal way to experience any form of communication, but this is now the world in which we live. Thus, it was not without some level of trepidation that I approached my first virtual play reading.
Don’t get me wrong: I was honored and excited to receive a call from theatre director/producer Dana Sachs. Dana said he had read my play, really liked it, and wanted to stage a reading using the actors from the Caravan Theatre Company of Cheshire, Connecticut to stage a reading on Zoom. He said he already had the actors in mind for the cast, and just needed my go ahead. The play had not been read by actors for nearly five years, and this was the first time there had been any activity about the play since my agent passed away last year from Covid-19. I enthusiastically said yes.
This was a far different experience than the last time a reading was staged for “Invincible Summer.” Previously I worked closely with the producer, was involved in the selection of the director and actors, and reserving the theater space. I also paid for the reading. Once Dana had my go ahead, he handled the casting, the technological arrangements, and the publicity. It was odd not to be involved, but also liberating to trust a professional to handle all of the details.
My trust was well-founded. Dana assembled an excellent cast: Mark Gilchrist, Christie Maturo, Olena Hodges, Allan Church, Frank Dicaro, Vickie Blake, Jack B. Levine, and Elizabeth Harnett. I was anxious about how actors would interact in such a format, not being in the same room, and never appearing on screen together. I needn’t have worried–the cast and director worked hard to ensure the play flowed and moved as seamlessly as possible. I was also impressed with how hard the cast worked on the details: getting into costume, collecting props, selecting backdrops from their screens that were germane to the setting and the characters. Each cast member dug deep to find the emotional core of each character, and revealed nuances I didn’t realize they had. It also revealed to me some areas of improvement that I needed to address in the play. In short, it was exactly what I had hoped for.

After the reading, Dana received an email from a friend of his who watched the reading. She had this to say:
“I cannot remember if I told you, but [my husband] died in September 2020 after a rapidly and eventually very debilitating case of Parkinson’s. So the show had special meaning for me. I felt compassionately seen and deeply understood by the author. I think that [my husband] would have felt the same, had he been alive to see it. The show had me in tears, in a good way. It was a relief I certainly didn’t expect, but which I greatly appreciated.All my best wishes to the author. If this show is any evidence, he is a very impressive, deeply compassionate, and insightful person. And I thought the performances were just magnificent. They rang so true and honest. Of course, I know they had a wise, highly competent, and very intelligent director. You did a great job!This play and this production are a gift to all, but especially to those of who have either been directly affected by this terrible disease, or watched someone close go through it. Again, I cannot thank you and everyone else enough for all your efforts, and for sharing such a deeply moving work of art.”
As a writer, I don’t believe I have ever received a higher compliment.
There is more ahead for “Invincible Summer,” including another reading in August, and hopefully its stage debut in Brooklyn this fall.
In the meantime, if you’d like to watch a recording of the Zoom reading, it is attached below:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1DFEURBqbdoIKUJjmJ87DaSTGW7cBHgui/view?usp=sharing
The Haircut that Changed My Life
No, this is not the title of my first YA novel (although, not bad, I daresay.) This is literally the story of how I moved from a 500 square foot apartment to a two story, two bedroom house in less than a month. And it did all start with a haircut.
Dorrie has been cutting my hair for 21 years. When I started going to her, she was in her early twenties, not too many years removed from cosmetology school. Now, in addition to being a veteran hair stylist, she also runs her own business, holds a real estate license, and is a landlord. About fifteen years ago, she purchased a seen-better-days house in Old Saybrook, one of the more scenic coastal towns in Connecticut (and the former home of one Katherine Hepburn).
Dorrie put a lot of time, energy and money into the property and has been renting it out ever since. Given that I was now in a place in my life I was interested and ready to move into a house, I decided that at my next haircut I would inquire about the property. Even though it would be a change from the quiet, rural lifestyle I had enjoyed for the last twenty odd years, it was two blocks away from the water, and a fifteen minute walk to a town center packed with cafes, a bookstore, restaurants, and even a Ben & Jerrys. Being near the sea and having a sidewalk life is something I have missed since my college days in Santa Cruz. How fortuitous it would be if Dorrie’s rental would be available this summer–the ideal time for teacher’s to relocate.

I never even got a chance to ask. When we were exchanging the usual pleasantries (“How was your weekend?” ) she mentioned that she spent the entire weekend cleaning the house, because her tenants had just moved out. I asked if she had yet found a new tenant, and she had not. I told her I was very interested and would love to see the place. She agreed to show it me the following weekend.
Three and a half weeks after the haircut, I was moving in.

Packing and organizing a move that quickly in the winter while I am working every day was stressful, yet somehow I managed to get it done. The hardest part was asking my good friends and landlords Jason and Amy if they would be willing to let me out of my lease early. I am very fond of them both (and their entire family), and when I moved into the apartment above their garage five years ago it was exactly what I needed. I was recently divorced, financially beleaguered, and the apartment (and their company) in a beautiful country setting was comforting and healing. But it was now time to move on. Happily, they understood, and we quickly came to an amenable financial arrangement.
So here I am in my lovely new home, in a beautiful, charming seaside town. Given it is my spring break, I decided to take a couple of days to take my own writing retreat (since the one I usually attend in January was preempted by COVID). As I write this, I can smell the sea on the breeze coming in through the window. Two blocks away, at the South Cove, two osprey are protecting their eggs in a nest, where there are egrets, swans and cormorants (and even deer) hunting and resting in the nearby salt marshes.

And on Easter, Darlene’s son and grandkids were here, and we all comfortably fit. There are few things in my life that would prompt me feel more grateful,
All of this makes me wonder: what life altering event will follow my next haircut?
So Not Tired of Winning
I know I haven’t posted in a while. Teaching, as you can imagine, has become an energy-sucking challenge, forcing some projects to the back burner. Sadly, this blog found itself stuck behind the saute pan and the teapot. Today I intend to move it the front.
I do have much to say about the current state of teaching. I have been so immersed in it over the last four months that I felt I needed some time to process and develop any real perspective. I think I am just about prepared to begin commenting on it–but not this time. Instead, I want to offer something of an overview of my year in writing.
Of course, this year was ghastly in so many ways. Aside from the Covid-19 pandemic, I lost my mother this year. I also lost my agent and his husband to the coronavirus, and Darlene’s mother also passed away. It has been a frustrating, exhausting, heartbreaking year.
And it’s an awful cliche, the worse kind perhaps, to say that life still goes on. And of course, it does. In spite of everything that went wrong this year, there were some things that went right. I’d like to share those with you, if you can pardon the self indulgence.

February
I am interviewed by the Wordpeace blog.
April
I learn that I have been named a writer-in-residence at Trail Wood, the historical home of naturalist Edwin Way Teale.
May
Darlene and I take a storytelling class together. We enter our very first story slam–and I win (scroll down to the audio files to hear my story).

June
My screenplay “Ashes” reaches the finals in the StoryPros Screenplay Contest. I submit a revised copy to the contest again and reach the finals a second time in December.
July
My play “Invincible Summer” reaches the semifinal round of the American Association of Community Theater’s annual new play festival
August
“Ashes” finishes fourth in the annual Writer’s Digest Competition. Another screenplay I entered in the contest, “Ravine,” receives an Honorable Mention.
A poem entitled “Relics” is accepted for publication in the Schuylkill Valley Journal.

September
A poem entitled “The King is Dead” is accepted for publication for the Wising Up Anthology called “Goodness.”
“Invincible Summer” reaches the quarterfinals of the Screencraft Stage Play Contest.
November
A screenplay entitled “Season of Mists” reaches the quarterfinal round in the Emerging Screenwriters competition.
“Invincible Summer” is accepted into the Jocunda Music, Film and Theatre Festival.
December
“Season of Mists” is a winner in the Madras Independent Film Festival.
“Ashes” reaches the finals for the Visionfest Screenwriting Competition.
“Season of Mists” is selected for the Kalakari Film Festival.
Being a typical insecure writer, it is easy for me to focus on the festivals and contests I didn’t win–especially ones I have placed in before. But that is a rabbit hole no one wishes to fall down. I am doing my best to focus on the positive, and as you can see, there is reason to do so.
In one of the few times I will ever paraphrase the President, I have not gotten tired of winning. We’ll see if I start to get tired in 2021…
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