Tympanic Theater Company Blog

You’re a regular Renaissance man when it comes to the creative arts.  How does your music and art influence your writing, if at all?

First off, thank you. That’s real kind of you to say. As far as music and my writing, I think there’s a lot of subconscious stuff going on when I write a piece- that deals primarily with rhythm and beats. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but I think in my best writing, it’s pretty clear that I’m a drummer.

 Since you practice in so many mediums where do you find most of your inspiration comes from?  Are you primarily inspired by musicians or fiction writers or a little bit of everything?

I think it’s rare that I hear a song and cry (save Neutral Milk Hotel in which case, it’s the lyric/ music combo that really jerks the tears) but there are countless times when I read a book or play and am moved to tears. When I listen to music, I feel more release with emotional distance- relaxation, I guess. When I read a book or play I lock into, it’s more of an emotional connection. Lots of empathy going on… if that makes sense. Long story short- writers.

Any writers in particular that make your heart go pitter-patter?

I love love love Cormac McCarthy, Peter Saffer, Sam Shepard, Kurt Vonnegut, John Steinbeck, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Chuck Mee, and Roald Dahl.

You do a lot of traveling with your band, Look Mexico.  Does this make finding time to write difficult? Or does it somehow make it easier?

I usually start off tour with these grandiose aspirations of finishing a play in the three or four weeks we’re on the road. Inevitably, that always crumbles, and I find that the most I can get done on tour is a solid bit of brainstorming and observance of places and folks that might one day make it into something. I used to feel guilty for not getting much done. Now I just accept that I’m not one of those prolific writers that cranks out a play or two a month. It’s more of a witness, process, gestate and regurgitate for me. I do however seem to get a lot of reading and graphic design done on the road. Those things can handle a more divided attention.

Since you’re on the road so much, do you have any rituals you do before you sit down (or stand, I guess you could stand) to write? Anything quirky or bizarre?

Not so much. I need a moderately quiet space, a table, my headphones (sometimes not even to play music, but to make people think I am listening to music so I don’t get caught up in some in-passing conversation) with a chunk of time- say three or four hours.

Do the rest of your band mates ever give you feedback on the plays you write? Have you ever gotten an idea for a song from your writing or vice versa?

No, it’s different parts of my life, I guess. I try and keep them autonomous. One time my bandmates came to a show of mine, and I sat up in the lighting booth and watched them texting during the show. Upon which, I dropped change down on their heads. I realized that going to see theater just might not be their bag, and it doesn’t really bother me that it’s not. They respect that it’s what I like to do, and that’s that. Probably won’t ask them to come see any more of my shows though. 

Look Mexico, courtesy of Facebook Stalking

One of the biggest themes in The Great Black Vulture is death and what happens in the after life.  You really delve in to this theme in just three pages.  What do you think happens after death?  What is your “Great Black Vulture”?

Um, well I’m pretty sure it’s not pearly gates, clouds, and what have you, because that doesn’t make a lick of sense. My dad had a heart attack in October, and he said “I know why everyone always sees white lights… because those idiots are starring straight at the fluorescent bulbs on the ceiling.” I have no idea what death is, and it scares the shit out of me.

What do you hope folks take away after seeing The Great Black Vulture?  Or any of your plays for that matter.

 Don’t really know. I know when I wrote it and would read through it (and this is going to sound masturbatory as all get out) I would get that shuddering cry- partly

Untitled by Josh Mikel

because I read back through the stuff as though I am acting it, and I felt like I knew both these characters. I guess the point, if there is one for The Great Black Vulture, is that no matter how dignified one might want to feel about themselves, their instinct and desire to live will shit on that. I mean, you see it when people are caught in any kind of catastrophe- their instinct takes over and they are sent crotch elbowing, face pushing, top of their lungs screaming towards an exit. I like to think that I’d be pulling folks from the rubble, but I have a pretty good idea of what I’d do in a shit-hits-the-fan situation.

 A lot of your plays tend have a back woods-ey, almost folkloric feel to them.  Why is that?  Where you a Tall Tale Cowboy in a past life?

Yes. And yes. And yes. I like writing mystical realism- or stuff that is borderline mystical. I believe in ghosts and aliens, and I want more than anything to believe in an afterlife- I just don’t have any proof. I guess that comes across in my writing a bit.

 Your latest full-length, My Brother’s Knife, is about to open in Virginia at Endstation Theatre.   The play underwent a lot of re-writes. What were some of the challenges you encountered through this process?  Any tips or advice to other writers struggling with the revision process?

I had worked with Geoff (the director of MBK and artistic director at Endstation) on another one of my pieces called Quentin G. In that process, Geoff would come to me with questions about

Kirin and Walter in My Brother's Knife

major flaws in the script suggesting MAJOR changes. I would go home and do some line edits and give it back to him. I am sure he was simply exhausted with me. Somewhere between there and now I learned to take major hacks at my piece. You hear again and again in writing, “kill your baby,” and I guess I learned to be a little bit Abrahamish in my rewrites. The piece started out with four characters, a bunch of onstage dummies, ninety+ pages spanning the course of about twelve weeks, and now it’s at seventy or so pages, three characters, two dummies, and takes place over the course of about 5 hours. It went through some shit, but it’s definitely definitely better for it.

You often joke that you're “homeless” because you travel around so much.  If you ever decided to settle down, what city would you choose to park your rear?

I always feel a bit chagrined when I think about the way I live. I am pretty happy being a vagabond, but it’s pretty weird sleeping on the floors of friends who are making honest livings. I feel like part of them wants to be me, and part of me wants to be them. I really like going on tour and seeing my friends. I feel like I’ve stayed in a lot better touch with folks by nature of making it through their city at least twice a year. I’ve always said it’s the people in a place (my friends) not the place that make it for me, and thusly I’m attracted to Los Angeles, NYC, and Chicago (<3 you guys). The band is moving to Austin in January, and I think that will be pretty sweet too, although it’s uncomfortably far away from my family.

 BONUS ROUND:  Who is your favorite drummer for all time?

 Dave Grohl- he’s just so rock and roll.

More of Josh's art work

You can check out more of Josh's art work and his band, Look Mexico by following the links.  Also check out Endstation for more info on Josh's upcoming production of My Brother's Knife.

Thanks for reading!

Susan