To make a long story short, I am writing a play. In three acts I tell the story of Emily Dickinson's life as seen through the eyes of her closest friend, and sister-in-law, Susan Dickinson. I use letters sent from Emily to Susan, Susan's own travel logs, well established historical timelines, and other resources to make my fiction as historical as possible. What started out as a crazy idea became a final project for my course work at University of Maryland and has since evolved into an independent project with a lot of support. In reality this entry is to help motivate me to finish this play. I have two and a half of the three acts completed. I have some unfounded fears about the project, mainly just a fear of completing it, and I am attempting to bury that fear in resolve. The following is the second scene of the play. It has already been read publicly and seen by a few people, so I am not worried about it being here. I read this scene at the conference held by the Emily Dickinson International Society, and they rather enjoyed it. As always, thanks go to Professor Martha Nell Smith for encouraging me and letting me know that I am more awesome than I think I am. I would really appreciate any comments you might have. Enjoy.
Act I
Scene II
Setting: The year is 1847 in the
season of fall, in the background stands Amherst academy in Massachusetts. The
school is painted white, stands three stories tall and has numerous windows.
The scene is focused on a small natural area with trees and grass. There is a
small road in the foreground where people and coaches may come and go freely.
At Rise: Emily Dickinson is sleeping
under a tree. She has a tiny journal and pen in her hands. She is wearing a
green dress (not a black one). The wind is blowing and Amherst academy has just
let out of class for the week. Many of the students are walking home, but Susan
has seen Emily and is walking towards her.
[Susan
comes up to Emily]
Susan: Hello. Are you alright Miss?
Emily:
[Stirring from her sleep] No miss, I am
not all right.
Susan: [Growing concerned] What is the matter? Are
you ill?
Emily:
[Opening her eyes to really look at
Susan] There is no matter. Aside from that which I stand upon. And I am no more
ill than you appear to be.
Susan:
[Confused] I do not understand. You just said that you were not well?
Emily: I said no such thing. I said that I am not
all right. [waving her left hand] I very much have a left.
Susan:
Oh! That is not funny!
Emily:
I thought it was.
Susan:
Well, you might think better if you actually attended class.
Emily:
Excuse me? What makes you believe that I have not attended class?
Susan:
You are out her snoozing under a tree, we have only just been let out, but here
you are snoozing away! You must have been here for quite some time.
Emily:
Some time yes. But not quite. I did leave my studies early to make a visit to
home this weekend.
Susan:
Well you have not made it very far have you? I venture a tortoise could slide
its way farther in an hour than you have.
Emily:
Why a tortoise?
[Susan
doesn’t stop berating Emily]
Susan:
I mean really, you must be the laziest [She stops short] What?
Emily:
Why a tortoise? Why not a more narrow fellow?
Susan:
A narrow fellow? Do you mean a worm?
Emily:
The worm travels earth, not grass. No, a narrow fellow.
[Emily
begins to stalk something invisible in the grass working her way around and
around, but getting closer and closer to Susan]
A
NARROW [She pronounces the word slowly and carefully] fellow in the grass. Occasionally
rides; You may have met him,--did you not? His notice sudden is.
[Suddenly
Emily looks abruptly into Susan’s face scaring her and causing her to fall to
the ground, she now sits transfixed as Emily returns to stalking]
The
grass divides as with a comb, [Emily lies down on the grass and works her way
back to Susan] a spotted shaft is seen; and then it closes at your feet and
opens further on.
[She
gets to Susan and lays down next to her]
He
likes a boggy acre, A floor too cool [she grabs Susan’s arm, Susan does not
struggle, but stares, Emily lets go after a moment] for corn. Yet when a child
barefoot, I more than once at morn, have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun,--when stooping to secure it, It wrinkled, and was gone.
Several
of nature’s people I know, and they know me; I feel for them a transport of
cordiality; but never met this fellow, attended or alone [Emily looks up into
Susan’s face], Without a tighter breathing, And a zero at the bone.
Susan: That, that was simply amazing.
Emily: No, that was amazing. Nothing simple about
it. Except, for perhaps myself.
Susan: That was stupendous! After that how could
you call yourself simple? You absolutely
must write that down. Here your pen and paper! [She picks up Emily’s pen and
paper lying now on the ground]
Emily: I have already forgotten it, it may return
at a later time and place. Moreover, I am not the one who assumed that I did
not attend class.
Susan: I was wrong, but you can understand my confusion?
Emily: To understand confusion, a most wonderful
paradox don’t you think?
Susan: Where did you learn to speak and think like
that?
Emily: Like what?
Susan: Turning words inside out, and stringing them
together like in that poem.
Emily: I mostly taught myself, but I believe the
Seminary to have something to do with it, as a well as a few choice authors.
Susan: The Seminary, you mean you don’t go to the
academy, but to the female Seminary. The college!?
Emily: No, I mean to say that I was a
student of the academy, but otherwise, yes, I am a student of the Seminary, at
least for the moment.
Susan:
I mistook you for a member of my school, how old are you?
Emily: That means wholly nothing, but I was born
some seventeen years ago.
Susan: Me too! We are the same age, but you are of
a higher education, I suppose.
Emily: Truly? We are of the same age? May I ask
your name Miss?
Susan: My name? I was named by my parents Susan
Huntington Gilbert, and you?
Emily: I was named Emily Elizabeth Dickinson.
Susan. Suuuuuusaaaannnnnnnn. [Emily is over pronouncing the name] No. That will
not do.
Susan: What do you mean? “That will not do” That is
my name.
Emily: No. It is too formal. Not natural. How about
Sus? [Susan makes a face] No? Then Sue! Yes, I like Sue much better. It is
warmer, and I believe that our narrow fellow here would agree. [A small garden
snake crawls into Emily’s hand, Susan jumps and stifles a scream]
I
told you Sue, “His notice sudden is.”
End Scene
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