The Kiln Project's Interview with Peter Hanrahan
Peter Hanrahan received his MFA in Playwriting from Rutgers University after graduating with a BA in English from Washington University in St. Louis. As a playwright, he has had plays read, workshopped and produced with various theater companies, including the Arena Stage in Washington, DC, and his play Prize Inside was published in The Best Ten-Minute Plays of 2007 (S&K). As a screenwriter, he has placed among the top 30 entrants in the Nicholl Fellowship Competition. He also has several screenplay projects in development, including The Lowlands, which is in pre-production with director Alfredo de Villa and actor Alfred Molina attached. He lived in Los Angeles for several years, where he worked as one of two in-house Story Analysts for the United Talent Agency. He continues to serve as a freelance consultant for the United Talent Agency, as well as for Jennifer Lopez Entertainment. He was recently named one of the inaugural fellows in the Missouri Scriptwriting Fellowship program, sponsored by the State of Missouri Film Commission. Peter is currently a professor of film and theater at Saint Louis University.
Kiln (Hannah McGinley): From where do you draw your inspiration?
Hanrahan: Part of being a writer, and especially part of being a screenwriter, involves training yourself to write even when you're feeling less than "inspired." Inspiration is a romantic and appealing notion, and when inspired ideas come, it can seem, for a few brief moments, as if the gods are smiling down upon you -- at least until you have to toil endlessly to tease those inspired ideas out into something workable.
Instead of waiting for inspiration to strike, I find it more effective to always be searching for the character, the concept, the locale, the turn of phrase or dialogue, that excites you. Literary critic Burton Rascoe's quoted as saying, "What no wife of a writer can understand is that a writer is working when he's staring out of the window." It's a half-truth. Writers can be among the laziest people in the world, with buckets of reasons at the ready not to write. But if you can find the idea that you're working on, thinking about, fleshing out, while you're staring out the window, walking around the block, watching a movie -- the idea that possesses you -- then you've made your own inspiration.
Kiln: When did you decide to seriously pursue writing as a career?
Hanrahan: I always wanted to write, and I always have, but I first began to think about it in practical terms in college when it came time to make the big life choice of what to do after graduation. I had studied playwriting intensively at Washington University in St. Louis with playwright-in-residence Carter Lewis. And straight out of undergrad, I went to a graduate program for playwriting at Rutgers, where I studied under playwright Lee Blessing. Both teachers were instrumental in helping me to be conscious of both the strengths and weaknesses in my writing, and grad school gave me the time to grow and hone my writing. Knowing that playwriting isn't the most financially practical career path, however, I eventually made my way to LA, and I found a way to be able both to write and to pay the rent by consulting for production companies and talent agencies, and by screenwriting.
One of the first jobs I had when I moved to LA was doing research on documentary projects for the Gantz brothers, the creators of the HBO series "Taxicab Confessions," and, during the job interview, they asked me, "How many playwrights in this country do you think can make a living just by writing plays?" It put things in perspective. Maybe five, maybe ten, maybe fifteen? And it's important to be realistic in that respect -- that writing as a career isn't just writing, it's working to get to a place where you can write everyday, and hopefully make a living at it.
Kiln: How would you describe the feeling before beginning a new piece?
Hanrahan: By the time I start a piece, it's usually been kicking around in my head for some time, and I'll have either a written outline or a mental roadmap of where I'm going to go with it. There's some excitement, some exhilaration, but mostly, I'm looking to see whether what's going down on the page is living up to my original vision. If there's a lack of excitement, a disconnect, then maybe the piece isn't working, and I need to step back and retool. It's when that sense of excitement -- that possession -- persists over multiple days and writing sessions that I know I may have something worth pursuing.
Kiln: In terms of your work/process: what is your greatest source of anxiety? And how do you overcome it?
Hanrahan: Sometimes, anxiety's in orbit as I begin a new project -- or, more typically, delay beginning a new project. Is it going to live up to what I have in my head? Is the time and dedication that it takes going to pay off in some way? I went bungee jumping once -- not something I'm keen to do again -- and it's something like bungee jumping in excruciatingly slow motion. You have to go against everything instinctual -- everything in your mind and body that's telling you, no, don't jump off of this very tall platform because you'll fall to your death -- and just step out into the air. But you bounce back up a few times, and maybe there's even a moment where you kind of enjoy it.
Kiln: Do you have a set process for writing?
Hanrahan: A writing routine is instrumental, and I try, as much as possible, to adhere to a daily writing schedule -- that eliminates a lot of the anxiety that comes with taking the leap into a project, because it's just the work that you're doing that day. With ever-changing schedules and two small children, it's easier said than done, but when you get into the routine, it becomes like a daily ablution. You feel off when you don't write. When I've gone for stretches without writing, it's always a matter of getting back into the routine.
Certainly, not all of writing is actually writing -- a lot of prep work is involved in some of my screenplay projects, but when possible, staggering these projects so that I'm writing one while doing prep work on another, has been most fruitful.
Kiln: How has your writing evolved over the years?
Hanrahan: I write both screenplays and stage plays, and the balancing act of reconciling the sometimes subtle, sometimes obvious differences between the two media has, I hope, helped my writing to grow. Telling a story fit for a stage, primarily through dialogue, versus telling a story designed for a big screen, and told primarily through image -- these can be strikingly different tasks. But at the end of the day, whether you're in the game of words or images, you're telling a story, and that story has to be compelling. My hope is that I've become a better storyteller.
Kiln: Do you have any advice to share with a developing writer?
Hanrahan: Writing is an act of emotional endurance. You have to spend a lot of time alone, with words and a glowing screen, and you have to spend that time alone thinking about other people, conjuring up characters, real or imagined. You can be taught the basic building blocks of story structure, of dialogue, of character development. But you have to have the resolve to put yourself through the emotional ringer -- and to withdraw in order to celebrate and explore the connections that we all share as human beings.
Kiln (Hannah McGinley): From where do you draw your inspiration?
Hanrahan: Part of being a writer, and especially part of being a screenwriter, involves training yourself to write even when you're feeling less than "inspired." Inspiration is a romantic and appealing notion, and when inspired ideas come, it can seem, for a few brief moments, as if the gods are smiling down upon you -- at least until you have to toil endlessly to tease those inspired ideas out into something workable.
Instead of waiting for inspiration to strike, I find it more effective to always be searching for the character, the concept, the locale, the turn of phrase or dialogue, that excites you. Literary critic Burton Rascoe's quoted as saying, "What no wife of a writer can understand is that a writer is working when he's staring out of the window." It's a half-truth. Writers can be among the laziest people in the world, with buckets of reasons at the ready not to write. But if you can find the idea that you're working on, thinking about, fleshing out, while you're staring out the window, walking around the block, watching a movie -- the idea that possesses you -- then you've made your own inspiration.
Kiln: When did you decide to seriously pursue writing as a career?
Hanrahan: I always wanted to write, and I always have, but I first began to think about it in practical terms in college when it came time to make the big life choice of what to do after graduation. I had studied playwriting intensively at Washington University in St. Louis with playwright-in-residence Carter Lewis. And straight out of undergrad, I went to a graduate program for playwriting at Rutgers, where I studied under playwright Lee Blessing. Both teachers were instrumental in helping me to be conscious of both the strengths and weaknesses in my writing, and grad school gave me the time to grow and hone my writing. Knowing that playwriting isn't the most financially practical career path, however, I eventually made my way to LA, and I found a way to be able both to write and to pay the rent by consulting for production companies and talent agencies, and by screenwriting.
One of the first jobs I had when I moved to LA was doing research on documentary projects for the Gantz brothers, the creators of the HBO series "Taxicab Confessions," and, during the job interview, they asked me, "How many playwrights in this country do you think can make a living just by writing plays?" It put things in perspective. Maybe five, maybe ten, maybe fifteen? And it's important to be realistic in that respect -- that writing as a career isn't just writing, it's working to get to a place where you can write everyday, and hopefully make a living at it.
Kiln: How would you describe the feeling before beginning a new piece?
Hanrahan: By the time I start a piece, it's usually been kicking around in my head for some time, and I'll have either a written outline or a mental roadmap of where I'm going to go with it. There's some excitement, some exhilaration, but mostly, I'm looking to see whether what's going down on the page is living up to my original vision. If there's a lack of excitement, a disconnect, then maybe the piece isn't working, and I need to step back and retool. It's when that sense of excitement -- that possession -- persists over multiple days and writing sessions that I know I may have something worth pursuing.
Kiln: In terms of your work/process: what is your greatest source of anxiety? And how do you overcome it?
Hanrahan: Sometimes, anxiety's in orbit as I begin a new project -- or, more typically, delay beginning a new project. Is it going to live up to what I have in my head? Is the time and dedication that it takes going to pay off in some way? I went bungee jumping once -- not something I'm keen to do again -- and it's something like bungee jumping in excruciatingly slow motion. You have to go against everything instinctual -- everything in your mind and body that's telling you, no, don't jump off of this very tall platform because you'll fall to your death -- and just step out into the air. But you bounce back up a few times, and maybe there's even a moment where you kind of enjoy it.
Kiln: Do you have a set process for writing?
Hanrahan: A writing routine is instrumental, and I try, as much as possible, to adhere to a daily writing schedule -- that eliminates a lot of the anxiety that comes with taking the leap into a project, because it's just the work that you're doing that day. With ever-changing schedules and two small children, it's easier said than done, but when you get into the routine, it becomes like a daily ablution. You feel off when you don't write. When I've gone for stretches without writing, it's always a matter of getting back into the routine.
Certainly, not all of writing is actually writing -- a lot of prep work is involved in some of my screenplay projects, but when possible, staggering these projects so that I'm writing one while doing prep work on another, has been most fruitful.
Kiln: How has your writing evolved over the years?
Hanrahan: I write both screenplays and stage plays, and the balancing act of reconciling the sometimes subtle, sometimes obvious differences between the two media has, I hope, helped my writing to grow. Telling a story fit for a stage, primarily through dialogue, versus telling a story designed for a big screen, and told primarily through image -- these can be strikingly different tasks. But at the end of the day, whether you're in the game of words or images, you're telling a story, and that story has to be compelling. My hope is that I've become a better storyteller.
Kiln: Do you have any advice to share with a developing writer?
Hanrahan: Writing is an act of emotional endurance. You have to spend a lot of time alone, with words and a glowing screen, and you have to spend that time alone thinking about other people, conjuring up characters, real or imagined. You can be taught the basic building blocks of story structure, of dialogue, of character development. But you have to have the resolve to put yourself through the emotional ringer -- and to withdraw in order to celebrate and explore the connections that we all share as human beings.