Category: New Orleans

The Spider Queen

There is a theater company here in New Orleans called The NOLA Project. They’ve been around for more than ten years now, so they don’t really qualify as “newcomers.” But I’ve seen many of their productions over the years, and I’m always struck by how they manage to keep things fresh.

Case in point, there’s their annual spring production in the New Orleans Museum of Art’s sculpture garden. A (sort-of) quick aside: the Sydney and Walda Besthoff Sculpture Garden is one of my favorite places in the city. There is something transcendent about the way the sculptures are seamlessly woven into the five acre landscape of mature oak and pine.

And an aside to the aside: the name itself features a bit of New Orleans history. Sydney Besthoff was one of the principals in Katz and Besthoff, or K&B—a pharmacy that dominated the New Orleans cityscape for most of the twentieth century. People of a certain age in this city will still describe a particular color as “K&B purple.”

I’m so inspired by the sculpture garden, I set the final scene of The Incident Under the Overpass there. But I guess I’m not the only one inspired by it. I have to believe The NOLA Project’s latest production, The Spider Queen, was at least partially inspired by some of its sculptures. It’s an original play, written by James Bartelle and Alex Martinez Wallace. James Bartelle is the Associate Artistic Director of The NOLA Project.

I saw The Spider Queen with two nieces on Friday. The play was staged on the patch of ground in front of a sculpture called “Spider” by Louise Bourgeois. It’s the one pictured at the top of this post. (That photo was taken about four years ago, during one of the three cold-ish months we have in New Orleans.)

The most remarkable thing about The Spider Queen was, hands-down, the puppets. There was a bird operated by two puppeteers, and a dragon that (I think) had five puppeteers. The ogres had just one puppeteer apiece:

And the production saved the best for last. Here’s the Spider Queen herself. I think she had six puppeteers:

So, back to the original point I was attempting to make, about The NOLA Project keeping things fresh. The spring production in the sculpture garden is an annual thing, and it’s something I’ve done with an assortment of nieces over the years.

For several years in a row, it was Shakespeare in the garden. It was during Much Ado About Nothing, as I recall, when we had messy crepes filled with speculoos and had to fend off a termite swarm. (The two things are not related. Termites swarm in New Orleans every May, regardless of what’s in your crepe. If swearing off speculoos would keep the termites away, I would do it. Reluctantly.)

As timeless as Shakespeare can be, I’m glad The NOLA Project hasn’t felt compelled to stage the Bard every spring in the sculpture garden. While I’m sure some of the universal human foibles that inspired Shakespeare are still around, it was a lot of fun to see a contemporary composition, inspired by one of the very same places that inspires me.

Not to mention, niece Kate can do a spot-on imitation of the ogres. Much better than I bet Shakespeare himself could have done.

by Anne McClane

Writing Prompts

The very talented Tom put this together.

I’ve been part of a writing group—a writing workshop, I dare to say—since 2013. I count my years-long participation in this group as one of my bona fides as a writer. “Of course I’m a real writer. I meet with other writers regularly in a bar!” You can’t get more legitimate than that.

The group is run by Stephen Rea, author of Finn McCool’s Football Club: The Birth, Death and Resurrection of a Pub Soccer Team in the City of the Dead. (Thank you, Stephen, for helping me meet my word count goal for this post). Stephen runs several different courses of fiction-writing classes at a lovely bar in New Orleans called Treo. If you’re interested, you can find out more about the classes on Facebook here.

The most recent 10-week session for our particular group will conclude tonight. It’s a little bittersweet, because we stumbled upon a bit of alchemy in this last course. We agreed to do a group project, collaborating on two short stories based on a prompt. The prompts were configured as such:

  • Man lying on the ground, woman tapping on both shoulders
  • Woman lying on the ground, man tapping on both shoulders

Everyone committed to writing 1,500 words. Names were drawn each week to determine who would work on which story. I drew the final chapter for the second story—Woman lying on the ground…

The first prompt became “The Fallen Man,” a tale of a woman named Carol escaping men in hazmat suits while trying to protect a young boy named Matt. There’s also the threat of biochemical warfare, an explosion, possible brainwashing, and Atomic Burger.

The second prompt became “Bai Polar,” the story of a woman named Bai Cavallo, who’s either from another planet entirely, or in the midst of a psychotic break. There’s also Glossolalia, cookies and milk, ectrodactyly, and plenty of references to an alien star system.

Brain injury figures into both stories.

There was a fair amount of friendly rivalry as the stories progressed. One group dubbed themselves “Team Awesome,” leaving the other group to dub themselves “Team Awesome-er.” Since I drew the last chapter, several weeks passed before I knew which team I’d wind up on. (It was “Team Awesome-er.”)

I wrote the conclusion to “Bai Polar” on the plane ride back from Europe, and had more fun doing it than I remotely suspected. I got to draw together all the threads sewn by five different writers, and it was a really awesome(er) challenge.

Writing is such a singular occupation, nearly all of the time. I loved this opportunity to be part of team, rallying behind a character and story that we composed together. If this experience is anything like what it is to be part of a “writers’ room” on a television series, then that is an enviable occupation, indeed.

by Anne McClane

Crawfish Break

I’ve spent a fair amount of time this month squirreled away, focused on writing, getting Lacey’s story down and out of my head. But it was time to take a break this past Saturday, for my family’s annual crawfish boil.

I can’t tell you who first decided to pick up one of these little crustaceans and put them in a boiling pot full of spices. But apparently, they’ve always been plentiful in the swamplands of southern Louisiana. I figure some hungry, early denizen of these parts must have figured they were worth a shot.

By the late 1800s, crawfish were being sold commercially. This, according to the Louisiana Crawfish Promotion and Research Board. In those 100 plus years gone by, crawfish have grown into a pretty big deal down here. This time of year, not a weekend goes by where someone isn’t boiling crawfish somewhere.

With our mild winters and really (really) long summers, some clever folks have claimed that our seasons are different in Southern Louisiana. Instead of Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall, we have: Mardi Gras, Crawfish, Hurricane, and Football. (I’ll sometimes see Hunting instead of Mardi Gras, and Sno-ball instead of Hurricane, but Crawfish and Football are constants.)

To give you some idea of the scope of crawfish boils down here: as of this year, Louisiana has a crawfish “pardoning event.” Yes, like the pardon some lucky Thanksgiving turkey receives from the POTUS each year. On March 7, Louisiana’s Lieutenant Governor pardoned Emile the Crawfish to live out the rest of his days in Bayou Segnette. (Emile was named after Emile Zatarain [1866-1959], the guy who first packaged all the spices together. Seems a little ironic.)

The crawfish boil tradition in my family only goes back six or seven years. It’s definitely tied to the next generation—several of my nieces and nephews have birthdays in March. Since March/April is the height of crawfish season, it makes sense. It’s also a great excuse to get people to come visit, since all but one of those March birthday holders live outside Louisiana.

There’s a lot I like about this family event. I like that it’s something that’s been forged recently—it’s not some holdover from our family’s past. I like to see Husband Tim and Brother Jerry working together like Matt Damon and Greg Kinnear in Stuck on You. I like that it gets distant family and friends into New Orleans for a visit.

I could go on, but I won’t. There’s a quote from A Knight’s Tale that sums up my feelings nicely. (Uttered by Paul Bettany, from his brilliant portrayal of Geoffrey Chaucer): Days like these are far too rare to cheapen with heavy-handed words.

Indeed.

by Anne McClane

Chewbacchus

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So, this past Saturday, I had a blast participating in The Intergalactic Krewe of Chewbacchus Mardi Gras parade. It was my third year marching with The Leijorettes, a subkrewe of Chewbacchus; this is my second year writing about it.

For those of you not from around these parts, here’s the interpretation of that first paragraph. The name of the parade is an amalgam of Chewbacca, the legendary Wookiee warrior of Star Wars fame, and Bacchus, the Greco-Roman god of wine. The organization that pulls a Mardi Gras parade together is called a “Krewe;” so if a parade consists of many different marching groups, like Chewbacchus, those groups are called subkrewes. The Leijorettes are a subkrewe honoring Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan (also of Star Wars fame).

I think I saw Chewbacchus listed as an “alternative” parade in the official Mardi Gras guide. It’s been around for less than a decade…I’m not sure how much time it takes in the eyes of the official Mardi Gras guide to no longer be alternative. It sure felt bigger than alternative. This is from Chewbacchus’s website: “Chewbacchus has grown from a scrappy band of a couple hundred Science Fiction lovers into a walking super krewe of a couple thousand enthusiastic freaks and geeks representing the vast spectrum of pop culture fandom.” Judging by the thick crowds we marched through, Chewbacchus seems to resonate with a lot of people.

But I’m sure the crowds gathered for Chewbacchus pale in comparison to those who come out for Bacchus, the huge parade that rolls through the streets of New Orleans the Sunday before Fat Tuesday. Bacchus the parade has been around for nearly fifty years, and it’s likely what most folks in New Orleans think of when they hear the word “Bacchus.” It’s the opposite of alternative parade.

It’s kind of interesting, because according to Wikipedia, Bacchus the deity has a more comprehensive title than just god of wine. He’s listed as “god of the vine, grape harvest, winemaking, wine, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, and theatre.”

I can’t think of a more perfect descriptor for Mardi Gras than “ritual madness.” Truth be told, that madness is one of the reasons I’m very picky about how and when I partake in Mardi Gras. At my age, I’ve grown to dislike standing around in a crowd, much less a rowdy crowd. In any given year, I might be a spectator at two parades, and that’s only if I have immediate access to a nearby establishment where I can sit down, eat, take a respite from the noise (and use the facilities, if necessary).

Which brings me back around to why I thoroughly enjoy participating in the Intergalactic Krewe of Chewbacchus. The theme of this year’s parade was “The Revel Alliance.” Walking to The Leijorettes’ spot in the lineup, I got to see some fantastic costumes, banners, and themes. I loved the 1984-themed subkrewe (picture featured at the top of this post.)

And then when the parade rolls, I don’t have to worry about standing around in a rowdy crowd. Instead, I get to see the crowd’s reaction when they hear the taps on the boots of nearly one hundred Princess Leias, or see those same Leias dancing to Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody.”

Chewbacchus’s brand of ritual madness is, for me, especially cathartic.

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by Anne McClane

My First Reader Con

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So, I participated in ARC NOLA 2017 this past weekend. ARC NOLA was an Author & Reader Convention held at the Holiday Inn New Orleans–Downtown Superdome. It was kind of surreal for me, talking to readers about The Incident Under the Overpass, sitting at a table behind a stack of books (that I wrote!)

The organizer is V.A. Dold, best-selling author of the award-winning Le Beau series. She does a great job of pulling both the event, and a great group of authors, together. As I followed the preparation for ARC NOLA on Facebook, I noticed some of the participating authors showcasing their swag. Swag?!? What kind of giveaways could I throw together—quickly—to promote the book?

I make a living preparing for trade shows, mostly business-to-business affairs, so I’m no stranger to swag. As a matter of fact, I’ve just returned from a few days in Atlanta (I left the day after ARC NOLA), where I helped to set up my company’s booth at a trade show. Highly sought after swag in years past at this show (it targets meat and poultry processors) have included a purse in the shape of a chicken, and something that is really called Chicken Poop™ Lip Junk.

Again, it was kinda heady, to be in a position to come up with swag for my very own product. But I was pretty late to the game, since I decided I needed to have swag at my ARC NOLA table about three weeks prior to the event. It was Ambrose to the rescue! I figure, he’s such a steady presence in Lacey’s life, (Lacey is the heroine of The Incident Under the Overpass), why not craft a little giveaway to celebrate him?

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After all, if people will clamor for a lip balm called “Chicken Poop,” I figure a cute little plush St. Bernard should draw some attention.

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I crafted some nametags for the small assortment of Ambroses, and put my website address on the back. It’s a start, and I’ve learned some tricks and thought up some improvements for the next batch. I don’t know when my next Reader Con will be, but hopefully I’ll have more than three weeks to implement.

Because I’d certainly do another Reader Con again. V.A. Dold was a pleasure to work with. I also met several authors who provided much inspiration. I have to thank Tamara McHatton for her guidance and for being such a kind and helpful table neighbor. And I also have to thank Dionne Charlet, who first told me about ARC NOLA. And who continues to be so gracious in connecting me with other New Orleans writers. And, ultimately, it was great to meet and chat with readers in that environment—readers I might never have encountered otherwise. To those of you who picked up The Incident Under the Overpass, I hope you enjoy!

by Anne McClane

Thank you, CravenWild

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A pretty short post today (from my end). It’ll conclude with a link to a review of The Incident Under the Overpass posted by Hermione, blogger at CravenWild. Hermione is a writer and filmmaker in London. Here’s a little something from her profile that really spoke to me:

…I love books, and as a writer and as a human being, I think stories are really important. I don’t think it matters what you read, but that you are open to stories, other kinds of lives and ideas, whether those are fiction or factual.

And here’s an excerpt from her review:

I really enjoyed this book. I loved the location, McClane really evoked a sense of place, and invests her characters with spark and individuality. It’s a pleasure to read this book and immerse yourself in the humour and the mystery, as well as the will-they-won’t-they romance.

Thank you, Hermione. You can read her full review here: Review-The Incident Under the Overpass

by Anne McClane