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Apple Cove is set in a gated community. Why do you think gated communities have become so popular in the U.S.? If you had asked me this pre-9/11, I would have said it had to do with the American dream of upward mobility and perhaps elitism. As we know the winner vs. loser mentality has a firm hold here. So this idea of a community where only the lucky few can get in and the rest of us schlubs are left to wonder what luscious riches we’re missing out on, goes hand in hand with that. But today I totally understand why someone would want to live in a gated community. Post-9-11, we’ve become more afraid of cultures that are “different.” And as the world grows smaller via technology, we are that much closer to people and ideas that are alien, and therefore scary to us. Living in a place where the houses are the same color, the grass the same height, gives order to a chaotic world. But of course this kind of controlled environment never truly keeps out the danger of the world or, more interesting to me, the danger that may lurk within the inhabitants themselves. (See the recent murders in Celebration, Florida, a planned community originally conceived by Disney.) When my dad owned a pizza restaurant, we’d get delivery orders from the freshly-built gated communities and we’d all say, “Oooh! Fancy!” But often, instead of returning with grand tales of “the other half,” the delivery guys would regale us with stories about the guy who answered the door half-naked with a gun in his hand, or of the filth on the floors. Sometimes these privileged people would refuse to pay. (The old, “I found a rock in my pizza” trick never works, folks.) Along those lines, though it first appears the characters in Apple Cove move into a gated community to flee nature and terrorism, ultimately, it is heartache, powerlessness, and their baser instincts that they are trying, with little success, to escape from. In my humble opinion, limiting the scale and scope of one’s world only limits the depth and breadth of one’s thinking, which leads to fear and fear-mongering. (See Tea Party.) Again, I do understand the impetus behind wanting to protect oneself from anything alien. I have two young kids and I’m always grappling with the fact that I’m raising them in a city where we wear a target on our backs. But we also live in a city with cultural opportunities around every corner, beautiful parks, and an amazingly diverse population, all of which expands the way my kids and I think about the world and our place in it. The questions: What kind of world do we want for ourselves and our children? Is it best to live within the security and comfort of the planned community? Or should we opt for the wonder, possibility, and also danger that comes with living in the “wild” world? Where will we thrive? These are the questions I think we all, like Edie in Apple Cove, struggle with. The more the characters in Apple Cove try and assert control over their lives and each other, the more they seem to lose control. Do you find that type of rigid control unravels in real life also? I know with my kids that the more I order them to do something, the worse the result. I mean, I won’t let my son eat candy for breakfast or shoot his sister in the eye just because he really, really wants to. But I’ve noticed that if I say, “Brush your teeth,” he’ll roll his eyes at me. (Isn’t eye-rolling supposed to come when they’re teenagers? He’s seven!) However, if I say, “Brush your teeth whenever you’re ready,” he’s more likely to brush his teeth. And telling him his teeth will fall out is not a good idea. Fear is never a good motivator. I think it’s our nature to seek independence from authority and to revolt against too much rigidity. Apple Cove is a comedy. Is it easier to tackle issues by making people laugh? I always utilize humor—whether in plays or in life—to deal with whatever situation is at hand. It’s the way I communicate and get through the day. I think humor is a powerful and subversive way to tell a story and perhaps reflect a point of view. I’m not a fan of hitting someone over the head to make a statement. I’d prefer the audience laugh their way into the world I’m creating. I’d rather everything sneak up on them. Darker truths secreted in the characters of Apple Cove drive the humor of the play; eventually those truths can’t help but erupt through a glossy veneer of happiness. How did the experience of being part of WP’s Playwright’s Lab, 2008-2010, help you develop as a playwright? I met some amazing writers in that Lab! Each artist’s work was singular and compelling in its own way. I learned so much from being exposed to the different voices in the group. Just like barricading yourself within a gated community limits one’s understanding of the world, doing the artistic equivalent limits the scope of one’s writing. Being exposed to different methods of playwrighting and play-development in the WP Lab helped expand my thinking about my own work. Also, they were just cool ladies, you know? Being a part of a community always feels good. (Unless that community is Apple Cove. Or a prison.) How important do you think Women’s Project is for women theater artists? Considering that only about 20 percent of plays professionally produced in America each year are by women, Women’s Project is, simply put, necessary. It’s necessary that female artists know there is a place that is not only aware of the parity problem, but is also addressing it, both through productions and via the Lab. It’s necessary that there be a place like WP where the work of female playwrights will be judged on its artistic merits alone. But it’s not only the WP mission that’s so commendable—it’s how they carry out this mission. WP knows what’s relevant and exciting in theatre, and their seasons reflect this. Likewise, the artists they choose for their Lab—producers, playwrights, and directors—all have fascinating and diverse voices and perspectives. Beware! The forces behind WP are creating a battalion of brave new theatre artists in that back room of theirs! In the spirit of Apple Cove, what’s your favorite flower? And do you enjoy spending time in the garden? I grew up in Gary, Indiana, and while Gary has a lot going for it, let’s face it, Gary is kind of a depressed place. But growing up I was always entranced by the wild lilacs that grew in our yard and around town. To find unexpected beauty amidst a town in decline was powerful and oddly inspiring. And no, sadly, I don’t garden. I live in New York City in an apartment the size of a shoebox. A shoebox for a pair of baby shoes. Regardless, I wouldn’t be much of a gardener even if I had a garden. Bugs kind of freak me out. (Sorry, bugs! I know you’re necessary.) Nonetheless, the journey Edie embarks on after discovering an exotic, wild rose in her garden might make anyone want to buy some clogs and start digging in a patch of dirt.
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