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breakinglight11) wrote2022-08-16 07:56 pm
breakinglight11) wrote2022-08-16 07:56 pm
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31 Plays in 31 Days, #16 - “Your Mother Is In Your Bones”
Bernie and I are pretty set at this point at including Miranda Barrymore, Mrs. Frost’s daughter, in Mrs. Hawking part 7. This decision came about from figuring out the thematic relevance of that thread to the larger story at that point— the pain caused to a daughter rejected, which the mother has yet to take responsibility for. Dealing with it makes a nice way to make Mrs. H confront what she did to Mary, without being a totally on the nose parallel.
This scene is Miranda laying her pain on the table a little bit, coming after 31P31D 2021’s #4 - Mrs. Barrymore and #6 - Ordinary Young Woman. Right now it’s a bit too obvious, a bit too articulated. I want the character to have a tougher time explaining why she’s so desperate to get Mrs. Hawking to tell her what happened to her mom, and I think it’s all too on the nose. Which in turn makes the thematic connection to Mrs. H’s current struggle too obvious. I have to make it subtler. But this is a first draft, though this time for 31P31D I’ve found I’ve had a hard time articulating my ideas when it comes to actually drafting the words.
Ah, well. That’s what drafting is for.
The line in the title is a reference to one of my favorite moments from The Joy Luck Club— one of my all time favorite books.
Day #16 - “Your Mother Is In Your Bones”
From Mrs. Hawking part 7
By Phoebe Roberts
London, England, 1890
VICTORIA HAWKING, lady’s champion of London, early fifties
MIRANDA BARRYMORE, Mrs. Frost’s daughter, mid twenties
~~~
(The London street. As MRS. HAWKING goes, MIRANDA BARRYMORE appears and hurries to catch her.)
MIRANDA: Mrs. Hawking? Are you she?
MRS. HAWKING: I beg your pardon? Ah. You must be Mrs. Barrymore.
MIRANDA: I see your nephew must have spoken to you. I was hoping we might arrange to speak.
MRS. HAWKING: So I’ve heard. But you will have to excuse me, madam. I am not disposed to speak on the street without warning.
MIRANDA: Forgive me— I don’t mean to accost you. It’s only… I’m desperate.
MRS. HAWKING: I’ve told you. Your mother was not well.
MIRANDA: It isn’t just that! You knew her before!
MRS. HAWKING: Not for many years—
MIRANDA: But you knew her!
(Pause.)
MIRANDA: There’s nobody who knew her. Her husband is dead, before I ever met him. She had no siblings, no friends. Even her maid knew nothing about her. There was only ever one person who was her friend. Who else can I ask?
MRS. HAWKING: As I said. It was a very long time ago. I cannot tell you what happened—
MIRANDA: But you can tell me of her!
MRS. HAWKING: I’m sure you know as I much as I do—
MIRANDA: Would I be here begging if I did?
(Pause.)
MIRANDA: I was brought up by an army of governesses. Shipped off to boarding school on the eve of my twelfth birthday. My whole girlhood, she pushed me away, and at last when I’m grown, and married, and can come to her as equals… she leaves to live half a world away. I have two or three letters a year, full of… investment advice, and admonitions to see to my teeth and keep the children from eating too many sweets. Now, even those letters have stopped. And when I looked as to why, I find it is because she is locked away in a madhouse for the rest of her days. And no one can tell me why, not even her— because she will not see me, she will not speak to me, she will not even write. So here I am, standing outside the gate, the way I always have, wondering why I wonder. Of course I don’t know why. I have never known anything about her. What am I, that don’t know my own mother? When your mother is in your bones!
(Pause.)
MIRANDA: I know you owe me nothing. Certainly not… what my own mother didn’t see that I deserved. But all my life, I’ve never understood… and I can’t bear not knowing any longer. Perhaps, if I know her a little better… I’ll understand.
MRS. HAWKING: Understand what?
MIRANDA: Why she sent me away. Why, at every turn, all my life, she always sent me away.
(Pause.)
MIRANDA: I am sorry I chased you, Mrs. Hawking. I only hope you’ll consider what I’ve asked. I’ll leave you to your way.
(She curtseys quickly and hurries away.)
This scene is Miranda laying her pain on the table a little bit, coming after 31P31D 2021’s #4 - Mrs. Barrymore and #6 - Ordinary Young Woman. Right now it’s a bit too obvious, a bit too articulated. I want the character to have a tougher time explaining why she’s so desperate to get Mrs. Hawking to tell her what happened to her mom, and I think it’s all too on the nose. Which in turn makes the thematic connection to Mrs. H’s current struggle too obvious. I have to make it subtler. But this is a first draft, though this time for 31P31D I’ve found I’ve had a hard time articulating my ideas when it comes to actually drafting the words.
Ah, well. That’s what drafting is for.
The line in the title is a reference to one of my favorite moments from The Joy Luck Club— one of my all time favorite books.
Day #16 - “Your Mother Is In Your Bones”
From Mrs. Hawking part 7
By Phoebe Roberts
London, England, 1890
VICTORIA HAWKING, lady’s champion of London, early fifties
MIRANDA BARRYMORE, Mrs. Frost’s daughter, mid twenties
~~~
(The London street. As MRS. HAWKING goes, MIRANDA BARRYMORE appears and hurries to catch her.)
MIRANDA: Mrs. Hawking? Are you she?
MRS. HAWKING: I beg your pardon? Ah. You must be Mrs. Barrymore.
MIRANDA: I see your nephew must have spoken to you. I was hoping we might arrange to speak.
MRS. HAWKING: So I’ve heard. But you will have to excuse me, madam. I am not disposed to speak on the street without warning.
MIRANDA: Forgive me— I don’t mean to accost you. It’s only… I’m desperate.
MRS. HAWKING: I’ve told you. Your mother was not well.
MIRANDA: It isn’t just that! You knew her before!
MRS. HAWKING: Not for many years—
MIRANDA: But you knew her!
(Pause.)
MIRANDA: There’s nobody who knew her. Her husband is dead, before I ever met him. She had no siblings, no friends. Even her maid knew nothing about her. There was only ever one person who was her friend. Who else can I ask?
MRS. HAWKING: As I said. It was a very long time ago. I cannot tell you what happened—
MIRANDA: But you can tell me of her!
MRS. HAWKING: I’m sure you know as I much as I do—
MIRANDA: Would I be here begging if I did?
(Pause.)
MIRANDA: I was brought up by an army of governesses. Shipped off to boarding school on the eve of my twelfth birthday. My whole girlhood, she pushed me away, and at last when I’m grown, and married, and can come to her as equals… she leaves to live half a world away. I have two or three letters a year, full of… investment advice, and admonitions to see to my teeth and keep the children from eating too many sweets. Now, even those letters have stopped. And when I looked as to why, I find it is because she is locked away in a madhouse for the rest of her days. And no one can tell me why, not even her— because she will not see me, she will not speak to me, she will not even write. So here I am, standing outside the gate, the way I always have, wondering why I wonder. Of course I don’t know why. I have never known anything about her. What am I, that don’t know my own mother? When your mother is in your bones!
(Pause.)
MIRANDA: I know you owe me nothing. Certainly not… what my own mother didn’t see that I deserved. But all my life, I’ve never understood… and I can’t bear not knowing any longer. Perhaps, if I know her a little better… I’ll understand.
MRS. HAWKING: Understand what?
MIRANDA: Why she sent me away. Why, at every turn, all my life, she always sent me away.
(Pause.)
MIRANDA: I am sorry I chased you, Mrs. Hawking. I only hope you’ll consider what I’ve asked. I’ll leave you to your way.
(She curtseys quickly and hurries away.)