▶️ Press Play: An Interview with Charlotte Lang
"My Long Pause made me see more clearly that I couldn’t force my creativity."
Welcome to The Long Pause, a newsletter about being creative, being stuck, and what to do about it. I’m Erinn. I’m a writer and an artist in a long, long Pause.
Today’s post is part of the Press Play interview series, which asks creative folks to share the story of their Long Pauses so we can all feel a little less alone in our creative lives. Today, Charlotte Lang opens up about how scary opening up is, how healing the body can heal your creativity, and Fiona Apple’s creative process as a model —enjoy! 💖
Explain yourself. Who are you, how do you identify as an artist / creator?
I’m Charlotte and I’m a writer. For a long time, I strongly identified as a playwright. Now, I see myself as more than a writer of plays. I do have a day job as a copywriter.
You’re here because you’ve gone through a fallow period where you didn’t produce much work. How did your Long Pause come about? How long did it last? OR are you still in it?
My Long Pause has been years long (if I’m being specific, I’d say it’s been about 7 years, so basically all of my 30s so far), though to be clear I have written some things I’m proud of and some things I hated during this time, so it hasn’t been a completely dry period. I define my Long Pause more as a period of my life where I reevaluated everything, took a step back from striving for “success”, and went through a tremendous amount of often painful personal growth. Before the pause, I used to write a play a year and then submit it everywhere I possibly could. This is what I stopped doing these past years.
I spent my twenties in New York immersed in theatre. I was very obsessed. I saw myself fitting into the “downtown New York theatre scene” which is a way of describing plays that are more experimental, strange, funny, dark, feral. (I interned for Clubbed Thumb, which is a great example of a company producing this type of work if anyone’s curious). I wanted to succeed in this so badly. I did have some triumphs and successes during this period, but I felt like I could never quite grasp what I was reaching for: a financially and creatively viable career as a playwright. As I approached 30 (my Saturn return, for the astrology nerds), I could sort of feel the walls closing in on me.
I’ve spent the past several years healing myself. I left New York and spent some time in Minneapolis, which also coincided with the pandemic, so it was a good time to step back anyway. I looked directly at the patterns inside of me that made me crave external validation to feel worthy and removed myself from the bustle of New York in favor of trees and lakes. I became more spiritual, studied my birth chart, did mushrooms in the woods, etc. I became a healthier person mentally and physically (though it’s an ongoing journey). As lonely as all of this felt, I am so happy I went through this period so I can approach life and writing from a more genuine place.
What about your creative practice feels like magic? What feels like science? Was one aspect more affected by your Long Pause?
I definitely feel like the work I’ve written that I am most proud of was channeled through me in a mystical way while my overthinking brain took the backseat. I’ve found that this is a state I cannot force, as much as I try. Sometimes it happens and sometimes it doesn’t. That said, I do think the writing tends to flow better for me when I’m writing for a specific purpose or project or I have an idea of what I want to produce in the process, rather than trying to pull something from the ether without a defined direction. It happens more easily if I know the actors I’m writing for too. Basically, I need a container to channel things into.
My Long Pause made me see more clearly that I couldn’t force my creativity. I couldn’t will myself to write a play through brute force, and if I did attempt to do that (which I did), it wouldn’t be very good. I understand now that I am a writer who needs to feel good in order to write. I can’t write from a place of turmoil or desperation.
Has anyone provided a model for you in terms of the ebbs and flows of a creative life?
I think of Fiona Apple. She only writes an album when she is inspired to write an album. She does not cave in to external pressures or conform to the standard model of how frequently an artist is supposed to produce work. She retreats from the public eye for as long as she needs to between albums, sometimes for many years, and she doesn’t seem to worry about being forgotten. She canceled a world tour to stay home with her dying dog. She doesn’t worry about trying to replicate what was successful for her before; she follows her own changing creative inspirations. This is how I want to be.
Did you attend any formal education to learn your craft? What, if anything, did you learn in that context about blocks or pauses? Did you have a mentor or teacher who addressed this possibility or modeled how to work with or through a pause?
I have a BFA in Dramatic Writing from NYU Tisch School of the Arts. It was a peak experience in my life so far. I loved it. Moving to New York at such a formative age and meeting really talented people who became my friends opened up my world. It’s where I learned that I love playwriting. It shaped me as a person and artist and I’m forever grateful for it and sometimes feel extremely nostalgic for the person I was then. My playwriting teacher, Eduardo Machado, was the one who introduced me to writing in a channeled, magical way. We did breathing exercises and visualizations before writing without stopping, that sort of thing. On the other hand, I do think NYU contributed to some unhealthy expectations about how my life and career was supposed to play out. I definitely remember hearing the advice that “writers write every day” and “a real writer will find a way to write no matter the circumstances.” I also know some peers who have had wildly successful careers and I sometimes have felt like a failure in comparison. Still, I wouldn’t change it because it’s made me the person I am today.
There’s a ton of research that connects movement with positive outcomes for creative work, trauma recovery, and a host of other benefits. What kinds of physical practices help you access or heal your creativity?
Yoga! I distinctly remember the first time I took a yoga class. I was 20 and experiencing a period of crippling depression and it felt like a last resort. I walked down 3rd Avenue from my dorm room to Yoga to the People on Saint Mark’s (which is now permanently closed because I guess it was a bit of a cult?) and took a free donation-based yoga class in which I cried and finally felt some hope. I have been practicing yoga ever since. I believe in the somatic connection between body and spirit, that trauma manifests in the body as illness, etc. (I have Pluto in Scorpio in the 6th house so this makes sense, if you know.) The process of healing my body and soul has helped me heal my relationship with my creativity.
When capitalist themes bleed into creative work, there is a pervasive pressure to be productive all the time, an assumption that this productivity should translate to profitability, and that because your work is creative (i.e. “fun”) you shouldn’t need to rest. How have these themes impacted your creative work and your Pause?
I do think that capitalism has been a vice grip to my creativity. I spent far too long feeling like I had failed because I wasn’t earning a living from my work and because I still have a day job. This is bullshit, I have learned. When I look back, I’m proud of the things I’ve created. I’ve had productions and readings throughout New York and London and I got to travel to Alaska, Tennessee, and other places for my creative work, where I’ve met amazing people. My day job as a copywriter has allowed me to travel to Mexico and other places around the U.S. Just because I needed to take a break from striving during my 30s does not mean I won’t have more successes in my life, though the societal messaging does make me feel like it’s already too late for me. Again, bullshit. Writing a play a year so I would have something to submit to all of the conferences is not a sustainable model for me anymore. I need to be one of those writers who writes when I’m called to write something, and not otherwise. It’s patriarchal to think that artists should be constantly productive. I think embracing the natural ebbs and flows is the healthiest approach. I think it’s completely normal to have fallow periods. This is when transformation occurs.
I also think the need to concisely define your art is a product of capitalism and I have struggled with this. If I’m not just a playwright, how do I define myself in an easily digestible way? How will I ever succeed if I can’t fit my life into a blurb?
If you’ve hit Play again: Tell me about the project or circumstance that returned you to your work. How did the shift out of your Long Pause feel? What brought it about?
I’m beginning to step out of my Long Pause. I’m collaborating with some playwright friends to submit a proposal for a night of theatre to a festival in Minneapolis. I have some ideas percolating for a series of personal essays connected to astrology, which I’m excited about. I am in the early stages of writing a TV pilot with a friend. I’m also finally feeling ready to open myself up again and share things, even though it feels terrifying (including this interview). To me, this is the strongest sign that the Long Pause is ending.
The shift out of the Long Pause feels like a natural next step. While I was in the pause, I longed for this moment. I thought it would be grand and triumphant. It does feel triumphant, but in a quieter way. I sort of just realized it’s happening. It feels like a huge relief and I feel excited about what’s to come.
Charlotte Lang holds a BFA in Dramatic Writing from NYU Tisch School of the Arts. Her work has been produced or workshopped at The Tank, Naked Angels, the Union Theatre in London, the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, the Boston Theatre Marathon, the Valdez Theatre Conference, Faded Neon Films, and various other venues, mostly around New York.
You can find Charlotte on Instagram at @purpleneighbor.
Watch Charlotte’s short play, That Feeling When You’re the County Sheriff, produced at The Tank by Rule of 7x7. (Starring fellow Long Pause interviewee, Brandon Monokian!)
Watch Charlotte’s short film, I Guess This Is the End, produced by Faded Neon Films as part of the Lockdown Anthology (filmed over Zoom during the early pandemic).
Explore some of Charlotte’s theatre work on New Play Exchange.