Sing for Your Supper

On the first Monday of most months, actors and writers get together to test run new scripts at Sing For Your Supper.

As an actor, it’s a wonderful opportunity to play a variety of roles, as the parts are cast by the SFYS hosts. There is only enough time to read it through once or twice so the bar is low, though the performances are generally quite good. As someone who struggles with my short term memory, it is such a pleasure to be able to perform script in hand and focus on my performance instead of reaching for the right words.

As a writer, I have learned a lot about writing dialogue and setting a scene. In fact, I was inspired to write a script of my own last Spring for the first time, and it was a sheer delight seeing my words come to life. I’m now working on another script, that I hope I have ready to submit to the November or December SFYS.

The cherry on top is the community building that happens, by everyone having the opportunity to plug any upcoming shows (both at the show and on the Facebook page), and also organically in the conversations that happen before the show and during the break. While new people are always welcome, it is nice to see familiar faces.

The next one is scheduled for November 4, 2019 at the Tarragon Theatre. Hope to see you there!

The Human Library

Today I was a “book” at the Bi Arts Festival’s Human Library. The title of my book was, “Being the Elephant in the Room: My Life as a Fat Woman”. Having never done this before, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The experience was unbelievable and will stay with me for a long time.

Three different people signed me out. Each was genuine in their desire to broaden their world view. One person wanted some insight to improve his relationship with a friend. One person queried about the similarities between aging and being fat in our society. One person was recovering from an eating disorder. Each conversation was honest, heartfelt and transformative – both for the participant and for me. I felt like I was present and available for each conversation in a way that I haven’t felt since I was a psychotherapist in training.

One participant asked if my title was the title of a book. “It will be”, I responded, realising in that moment that my book now had a name. I explained that I have been working on a memoir with this exact thread. Her face lit up with the type of excitement that can only come when coming across someone who really gets me. That look is what will carry me through all the times that I wonder if anyone really gives a shit about my life and my stories.

I’ll also have this to remind me that my book belongs in a library (merch on the right purchased at the Bi Arts Festival Art & Craft Fair:

What’s in a Name?

When I started reading my work at public readings, I tossed around a bunch of name ideas so that I could maintain boundaries between my lawyer/mother self and my writer self. I ended up settling on “M.K. Shaw”.

I really wanted to like it. When my first publication came out in Through, Not Around, I wanted to experience the thrill of seeing my name in print.

Except that thrill wasn’t there. At least not in the way I expected it to.

And it kept happening. I would see my new abbreviated name on a poster or programme for a reading or an event and it always felt like there was something missing. My writing is intensively personal, and intentionally so. I feel called to write about things that people usually don’t talk about and in doing so, reduce shame and stigma. So much of what I write is about digging underneath the layers and shining light on things that are often shrouded in darkness. And every time, it felt like something was missing when I saw my abbreviated name next to my words.

I’ve long felt that my given name, Marlo, suited me well. it is unusual, easy to get wrong and not to everyone’s tastes. On its face, Marlo does not disclose an obvious gender or ethnic background. It is deceptively simple and it gets the job done. Just like me.

There was a brief period of time in grade 4 when I decided I didn’t like my name and wanted to go by my middle name, Karen. My teacher respected my choice however the change was short-lived when I didn’t respond to my new name being called in class.

So Marlo was back. And not just Marlo Shaw. From that point on, I was Marlo K. Shaw and sometimes when I was being especially cheeky, I was Marlo K. Shaw, Esq. I figured that I was going to be a lawyer eventually. I didn’t know then that the honourific of esquire was not used in Canada.

That is how I feel now. I tried on M.K. Shaw, and it was okay, but not the perfect fit. I am Marlo K. Shaw, mother, lawyer, writer and so much more). I can’t wait to see those words looking back at me on my next publication.

 

Brockton Writers Series

I am excited to announce that I have just been asked to read at the Brockton Writers Series on July 8, 2020!

 

What I learned from not writing at MNM2019

This weekend I was to participate in the Muskoka Novel Marathon. It is still ongoing and continues to Monday night. I arrived late and sick with a cold so it wasn’t ideal conditions. I struggled to write and felt physically quite uncomfortable so I called it quits and came home early. Even when I took myself back to the airbnb and tried to write there, the words continued to elude me and it was bothering me that I wasn’t taking advance of this dedicated writing time. On the drive home, I took a more analytical look at the differences between this weekend and the usual ways in which I write. I knew it wasn’t only my cold that got in my way. As I thought it through, I learned quite a lot about what the optimal conditions are for me that best bring out and nourish my creative self. It wasn’t something I thought much about before and I find it useful information for the future. So here’s my list:

1. Natural lighting.
2. Fresh air.
3. Cool breeze and/or cool temperature
4. A beautiful view
5. Comfortable and supportive seating
6. delicious and nourishing food
7. supportive and loving feedback; and
8. being surrounded by the creative energy of other writers.

What’s yours?