Those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow
of the Almighty.
If I am the immobile mountain, move me.
If your love is the mountain, then I shall be the one to climb.
If your summit is unknowable, then let me dangle from your shadows and shelter.
Let me live at the foot of your love.
If you go on Amazon right now, you can get my book/play for free!!! Go!
Here’s the link: House Full of Hope
It’s stories of real-life examples of domestic abuse and shelter living. Please support this play and hear these stories. I want to bring the message of these women to the stage and to millions of eyes. Thanks for taking just a few minutes to read. I promise, you will find something inside.
If you do read it, you’ll need the app to download and read electronically. Normally $9.99, but FREE today and the next 4 days. Please review online, if you liked it.
HURRY! 🙂 Don’t wait, it will return to its regular price by the end of the week.
My daughter, Pencil Princess, drew this awesome chair for me. Read the play to find out why the chair has wings. 🙂 Thank you, my Love. You’re my angel. I absolutely adore it.
My play is available on Amazon! It’s $9.99, but I’ll tell you why I did that. I had no other way of publishing and offering the rights to produce in one easy step. When you buy the script, there are no other royalties from that point on, unless you engage a lengthy run. Which doesn’t usually happen with shows unless they’re Hamilton or Cats, amirite? So $10 to put on a play about domestic violence to support abused women and children (and sometimes even men are abused by a partner) doesn’t seem like a lot. To me.
There are 13 women, 2 men and 2 children. Have you ever read a play with 13 women?? Snap! Well, it’s about time then. 🙂
These stories are drawn from real life. Some are mine, some are from others. Some are just things I’ve heard after years of listening to women tear out the hurt. Some are from the dark corners of my mind, gathered up like dusty cobwebs and spun back into a juicy web. It all comes from the truest place I know. I hope you agree.
Also, I would love some feedback! Please donate to your local domestic violence shelter. These women need all the help they can find. Thanks for reading.
House Full of Hope
So, I’m writing a play. I’ve written two plays so far and this is my third. I started this really cool piece about domestic violence and shelter living for women. I had planned to offer as a charitable fundraiser for local DV shelters. Then I got derailed, the project stalled on the other end and I haven’t been back to it. I was hoping to share here for some feedback. Here is an excerpt, let me know your thoughts.
WOMAN 1: Yeah, even her husband acts this way. (Referring to WOMAN 2)
WOMAN 2: (Lights go down on group, WOMAN 2 comes down front) It’s true. She’s right. I mean, I don’t know if all men act this way, but my husband does. The only difference between her husband and mine is that he buys me a diamond ring to apologize. We never know what people are going through behind closed doors. I don’t wanna be here, but I have no place to go. My dad is gone, my mom is in assisted living. My kids are at college and the house is in his name. Everything is. Bank accounts, cars, houses. I don’t want any of it anyway. I never did. I only wanted him. And I wanted him to want me the same. The first time he hit me, we were in college. He was drunk and I was mad. He’d been flirting all night with our friend’s new girl. Kissing her on the hand?! Laughing at all her dumb jokes. After we left, I complained the whole way home. I’d never been so mad with him before and he did not like it. He didn’t say a word until we got to his apartment. He shut the door, it was dark, he cornered me and whispered, “Don’t you ever talk to me that way again.” He waited for a few seconds. I thought he was walking away and then he turned and knocked me silly. I never questioned him again. I’m not sure why I didn’t leave that night. I know I felt guilty for thinking the worst of him. That was the first time, but for sure not the last. When I said nothing at his flirtations and when I said nothing about his business dealings and when I didn’t interfere with the kids, he’d still find a reason to hit. Or choke. Or…humiliate. All alone, at night, in private. In our room. In bed. I don’t keep this ring because I love jewelry or I like how it looks on my finger. I keep it because I’m not ready to give up on love. And I feel safe with it on. That’s ridiculous, I know. But you know, I earned this ring. I had to take a punch or two…or ten…to get it.
So that’s just one of the women I’m writing for. The idea is that they are in group therapy in the shelter and one by one, between dialogue, we hear each individual story over the course of the play. Really minimal set. Also, flashbacks of a woman from the 70s, winding up in the hospital for the umpteenth time, finally able to go to the new DV shelter that just opened. Her name is Hope.
I’d love to hear ideas, stories and feedback. Thanks for reading.