On March 16, 2002, sheriff's deputies were shot in Atlanta. A muslim leader and former black Power activist was convicted, but the evidence was shaky and the whole truth didn't come out. During the trial. My name is Mosey Secret, and when I started investigating this case in my hometown, I uncovered a dark truth about America from Tinderfoot TV, Campsite Media, and I Heart podcasts. Radical is available now. Listen to the new podcast radical for free on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts in.

The new Amy and TJ podcast, news anchors Amy Roebach and TJ Holmes explore everything from current events to pop culture in a way that's informative, entertaining, and authentically groundbreaking. Join them as they share their voices for the first time since making their own headlines.

This is the first time that we actually get to say what happened and where we are today.

Listen to the Amy and TJ podcast on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Walter Isaacson set out to write about a world changing genius in Elon Musk and found a man addicted to chaos and conspiracy.

I'm thinking it's idiotic to buy Twitter because he doesn't have a fingertip feel for social emotional networks.

The book launched a thousand hot takes, so I sat down with Isaacson to try to get past the noise.

I like the fact that people who say I'm not as tough on Musk as I should be are always using anecdotes from my book to show why we should be tough on Musk.

Join me Evan Ratliff for on Musk with Walter Isaacson. Listen on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Tune in to the new podcast, stories from the village of nothing much like easy listening, but for fiction. If you've overdosed on bad news, we invite you into a world where the glimmers of goodness in everyday life are all around you. I'm Catherine Nikolai, and I'm an architect of cozy. Come spend some time where everyone is welcome, and the default is kindness. Listen, relax, enjoy. Listen to stories from the village of nothing much on the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hello.

I am Jesse David Fox, senior editor at Vulture, host of good one, a podcast about jokes. We are so excited to welcome Chelsea Peretti to Vulture festival. You know Chelsea, of course, from Brooklyn nine nine, and she also made her feature debut this year with her film, first time female director, the team at Vulture and we in particular is so excited that Chelsea announced she is bringing back her podcast called Chelsea Peretti. And today you're lucky you have her. Her and some friends will be doing a live episode taping today, so you're at a podcast. Chelsea is joined by her theater group, Pacific Playwrights Horizons, who will be reading an excerpt from her new work, Satcher island. Afterwards, there'll be an extremely serious q a, so please prepare your questions. So without further ado, put your hands together for Chelsea Peretti.

I am so honored to be here tonight as part of Vulture's Playwrights Horizons program. Over 8000 playwrights submit their work each year, and Vulture's panel of judges only select one single winner, and the panel is just Jesse David Fox. Anyway, I won, and I feel incredibly fortunate to be so good at writing plays. Due to my writing abilities, I was able to procure funding from a variety of grants, the Cherry Lane Theater, pop Cherry Perfect new playwright Grant, the Netflix and Chill Sea Paretti Grant, and the icing on the cake was a second Yale School of drama honorary degree. I also got one for my play reins coming in, and I also got into be thank you. I'll be attending in the fall. I am so excited to share with you tonight a piece, a piece of my second play, a 19 hundreds maritime drama entitled Thatcher island, which is a real place. There's maps printed under your seat. You can refer to those throughout. This is about a family lost at sea, but it's about all of us. It's about dreams, goals, love, resentment, adelation, bitterness, jealousy, addiction, desire, boredom, intimacy, and boating. I hope you will see yourself in this play and that it will hold a mirror right up to your face to show you your own foibles and shame you.

This is a work in progress, so I thank you all for being a part of the genesis and evolution. I'm still taking critiques on the play and listening to feedback. Part of the deal with my interlocking grants and funding is that I am lucky enough to receive weekly critiques, which have been anything ranging from this is a masterwork, but pace it up to this play is tirelessly meandering and there's also been some negative ones. People have said, what is the point? I don't get any message from this, et cetera. So if you have any kinds of thoughts, please hold on to them right up here, okay? Because there will be a Q and a with myself and my talented group of actors after we read a portion from the play. Challenge us as we hope to challenge you. This Q a isn't limited to writing. Please, my actors welcome questions about how they approach a scene, how they interpret text and subtext, how they build a character, right on down to favorite snacks. And do they get along with their spouse, or are they single now? They haven't read this new draft yet, but they're good at cold reads.

Without further ado, I would love to bring out my actors. Are you ready for a great read? Please applaud after each name equally for the part of William, Jonathan early for the part of the stranger, Caitlin Olsen. And last but certainly not least, someone who has incredible theatrical training, she was telling us in the green room. Ms. Zosia Roquemore and I will be playing the part of mother. Oh, also, Deanna is going to be reading our stage directions, a crucial and important and valuable role that should be recognized with a hearty intro. Okay, we're beginning.

Thatcher Island, a play by Chelsea Peretti. Cast hold for applause. Cast of characters Mother, a weathered fisherwoman William, her son, a young man with big dreams stranger, a mysterious newcomer Margaret, an enterprising seafarer setting Thatcher Island, 1 mile off the coast of Massachusetts. This is a real place, production notes there will be lots of dramatic lighting, sounds of waves crashing, wind and fans blowing the actor's hair around like crazy. The AC will be set really cold to simulate wintry island. Subconsciously, the island is rugged and barren. Large hunks of rock and weathered wood. A few useless items, like seaglass, dot the stage. Two lighthouses flank the set, glowing mightily. Acknowledgments the author would like to thank various people for their support and encouragement. Act one, scene one. Thatcher island, rockport, early 19. Hundreds. The winds furiously blow the ice white hair of Marlene Matlin, 60s, weathered and gritty, with a splash of vitality shining in her eyes. She stands at the stage at the edge of a barren island near one lighthouse. With a second lighthouse in the near distance. She holds a lantern and stares out at the rough seas to a seagull perched on a rock beside her.

Misery. Me, silver. I got a bad feeling deep down in my gut. Rough seas. I guess that's why you're here with me, isn't it? Old sky rat. Not so brave in these deep westerly and northwesterly winter winds anymore, since the wing injury you sustained. Two januaries back. Aria I thought surely that'd be the end of you. A rare thing you are. A rare thing.

Pulling a fragment of a mirror out of her pocket.

Or maybe I'm the rare thing. Talking to myself like a loon here at the footpath to an icy chasm that sucks man and boat alike straight down as if into the churning core.

Of the earth, looking out at water and holding a lantern to seize.

It'll be dark soon, silver. Pitch black, with only the moon shimmering on the frothy spit up of the waves, smashing together every which way like new lovers. And where is my son?

Where is my son?

Out there somewhere without me. Me. The center of his soul.

Mother crumples to her knee.

Boy, you make it back and we will get off this island. I swear to God. Been marooned here, high and dry for near 15 years, as reflected by the notches in the grizzled old tree by the lighthouse. Ain't that right, silver? And you fell from your nest the very first day we arrived. And we cared for each other, didn't we, Silver? But a seagull's lifespan in the wild tops out at 20 years. It tops out at 20 years, old friend. I hope you'll go the distance for my sake.

A stranger's voice appears out of nowhere. Ahoy. Ahoy there.

Land ho. Murderation. A strange voice. What?

Sorry, I'm down the bank. Approaching tempest almost took me out. Woof. A rocky baron lands.

Ow.

Any port in a storm, I suppose.

Well, it certainly hasn't been fair winds and following seas, I'll give you that, miss. Here, take you this blanket. It was for my son, but.

Oh. Yep. The stranger hastily grabs the blanket and wraps it around her entire body. A blanket.

By jove.

A blanket. Am I dreaming? Hallucinating? Or are you one of Neptune's wooden angels come to life? Is this real? This wooden blanket is so warm. Oh, inconceivably so. After them frosty gales. The warmth of a blanket feels like being finger fucked by Adonis, the love God himself. Pardon my french, miss.

We're all sailors. Here, madam. Here, take this. Thermos of dutch courage. Made it for my son, long lost at sea. I'm guessing a sip of this will feel like Adonis smacking your g spot with his rock hard dong while Aphrodite flicks your clam. Oh, hot.

Spitting monkey vomit. You're not that far off good lady. A few chugs at at and I find my constitution not only revived, but also a smidge juiced. You know, I always wondered, as a mariner, if my luck ran out out there, would I speak to God? Would I restore that unshakable faith of my youth? The answer is yes. I sang gospel for hours, riding waves like I was on a roller coaster at a state fair. Sadly, I only know one gospel song. So it was hell, ironically. Speaking of irony, I seen your boy. What?

My son? You're positively implanted in his blanket yet failed to mention you've spied him. I thought you were friend. But perhaps you are foe or satanic phantom. How can I be sure? I haven't lost my mind without him. Where is he? How is he?

Oh, he's out there, right?

Yes, that I know. Generally speaking.

Well, I don't have a compass on me. I saw him hours ago. Days maybe, I don't know. I've lost track of time. I measure time now in currents, winds, darkness. I saw your boy bobbin in the flotsom and jetsum, clinging for his life to a fragment of a ship, bright red and in gold riding. It said the word luck on it. Imagine that, the wretched irony. Luck in such fine gold print on a battered remnant of a ship and in the clasp of the most wretched creature imaginable to boot.

He built that ship. Learned to make paint from dirt, rocks and soil, ochre mixed with seawater and ground up leaves and grasses. The gold was made from one of my old bracelets, and like a fool, he chose the word luck. Ah. How did he appear? Was he in good enough health considering his circumstances? Ah.

He was an apparition. Wind whipped and sunburned, swollen, he was grotesque, purple, blue and green with yellow pus. Wildly, I did wave my hand, shouting, you there. Ahoy, maybe. Hello, boy. Can you hear me? Swabby?

Yoohoo, boy.

And he didn't say a word. Nah. When he next bobbed at last, his visage turned straight toward me, straight as the crow flies. And, well, he was either winking at me or what? Well, or one of his eyes was clear gone.

No, he had to be wink it, most likely. Maybe got salt water in his eye or a bit of sand so it was just closed to kind of protect it from further damage. Miss, how did you manage to come ashore when my boy was so horribly whirling about in the vomited seas?

You likely won't believe this, but I was carried upward on the back of a sweet, sturdy walrus. And when I began to sink, I felt him or her or them, a walrus. A walrus pushing me up to the surface of the water, nudging me up to the light, lifting, guiding by my rear end, my buttock area right above my hamstring. But below my lower back kind of curves outward in two muscular bulges. And then there's like a shadowy, inwardly turned hole between them where the old food comes out. It doesn't smell great, but it does the trick.

The butt. Yes, I know the buttock area well.

That sacred, benevolent walrus he hoisted. He, she. They hoisted me to where I sit before you on a treacherous thatcher island. Only island with two lighthouses. Anne's eyes, as they're known.

Indeed, Anne's eyes. Or is it the only pair of lighthouses with one island? Maybe it should be called Anne's face shape. Focus on the island part, not guess. It depends on your point of view. Yeah, this has been fun. But, God, I miss my son.

Right? It's not just that Sammy has had his world torn apart by the conflict. It's not just that he has lost everyone that he ever loved. And it's not just that Sammy is only seven years old right now. Children are being forced to live through.

Unimaginable horrors in Gaza and around the world.

And it's not just this Christmas. Your help could make all the difference. Visit trocra.org or call 1804 08408. Trokra together for a just world.

On March 16, 2002, sheriff's deputies were shot in Atlanta. Jamil Alameen, a muslim leader and former black power activist, was convicted. But the evidence was shaky, and the whole truth didn't come out. During the trial. My name is Mosi secret. And when I started investigating this case in my hometown, I uncovered a dark truth about America.

He said to me, you want me to take care of know for not doing something, paying you or something like that? I said, no, what you talking about? But I had no idea who he had become.

That's how he approached you.

You know what he meant when he said that?

Yeah, I'm thinking murder in a know.

I think that's what he was thinking, too.

From Tinderfoot TV, campsite media, and iHeart podcasts, radical is available now. Listen to the new podcast radical for free on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. When Walter Isaacson set out to write his biography of Elon Musk, he believed he was taking on a world changing figure.

That night, he was deciding whether or not to allow Starlink to be enabled to allow a sneak attack on Crimea.

What he got was a subject who also sowed chaos and conspiracy.

I'm thinking it's idiotic to buy twitter because he doesn't have a fingertip feel for social emotional networks.

And when I sat down with Isaacson five weeks ago, he told me how he captured it all.

They have Kansas spray paint. And they're just putting Big X's on machines, and it's almost like kids playing on the playground just chews them up left, right, and center. And then like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he doesn't even remember it. Getting to Mars doesn't excuse being a total, but I want the reader to see it in action.

My name is Evan Ratliff, and this is Elon Musk with Walter Isaacson. Join us in this four part series as Isaacson breaks down how he captured a vivid portrait of a polarizing genius. Listen to on Musk on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get.

Your podcasts in the new Amy and TJ podcast. Amy Roebach and TJ Holmes, a renowned broadcasting team with decades of experience delivering headline news and captivating viewers nationwide, are sharing their voices and perspectives in a way you've never heard before. They explore meaningful conversations about current events, pop culture, and everything in between. Nothing is off limits.

This was a scandal that wasn't, and this was not what you've been sold.

The Amy and TJ podcast is guaranteed to be informative, entertaining, and, above all, authentic. It marks the first time Roebach and Holmes speak publicly since their own names became a part of the headlines.

This is the first time that we actually get to say what happened and where we are today.

Listen to the Amy and TJ podcast on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts right.

Dark seas, I tell you.

Dark seas, indeed.

William appears, shivering and squinting. Mother rushes to him.

My precious William, how long have you been standing here?

An incredibly long, drawn out time bearing witness to an excruciating dialog full of tedious minutiae. And I won't mince words. It's cold enough out there to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.

Miss I need the blanket back now. Here, son.

Mother takes the blanket off the stranger and wraps it around her. William. Oh, losing that blanket feels like getting kicked in the teeth by a donkey.

Luela sea snake burrows in your ass. I love that expression. But blood is thicker than water, miss. And thus, it is rightfully William's blanket.

It's a little wet, like there's literal drips coming off its hem.

Oh, I feel terrible. Well, we didn't know if you would make it.

I knew you would. I tried to tell her, but she kind of grabbed it.

I mean, you know, it's better than nothing, but it's definitely damp and tangibly used.

Oh, man. Oh, man. Starting to feel super guilty. In addition to freezing cold. Want this thermos a grog? There's still a sip or two left.

Thanks. I'll have a sip. Thanks so much.

He sips awkward silence.

It'S funny. I might not have made it if there hadn't been of. Let me go back. It's funny. I might not have made it if there hadn't have been two lighthouses. You really start to understand the beauty of the whole two lighthouse system out at sea.

How so?

Well, as they're bobbing around. Well, as you're bobbing around, vomiting and being thrashed by the waves, you try to steady your dizzy brain by training your eyes on the land, aka hope and survival, as the fog shifts and obscures one of the lighthouses. Let's call it lighthouse a. Then, boom. Lighthouse B comes into play.

Well, God bless this tiny, eccentric island with two lighthouses.

Miraculous to have my feet back in the dirt, firmly planted between them.

Amen. Hey, should we share the blanket?

I think we effectively are sharing because you had a turn. And now I'm having a turn.

Been meaning to ask about that eye, William. You winking at me, son?

I suppose you could call it an internal wink, Mother. My eye is out there somewhere in the claws of a crab or jaws of a shark, or impaled on the spine of a sea urchin, or rolling like a marble in the dark belly of a frogfish. Or maybe.

Hey, do you not recall precisely what happened to your eye?

I was in and out of consciousness. God loved me. I remember things in flashes. Tell you the truth, I wish I could unsee what I did see with my one remaining eye. Flash. Unimaginable swells, dredging up hungry, thirsty creatures from the sea's core. Flash. Gnashing their teeth and slapping their slimy, poison fins. Flash. Poking their paralyzing stingers inches from my face and mouth. Flash. Slapping their sandpaper skin cross my cows and bellying in the thighs. And like some sick, demented joke, the entire time I was out there, I was clinging to a tiny burn, splintered off shard of blotsome with the word luck painted on it. The word luck mocking me as if I was tossed, as I was tossed 15ft into the air by a whale's blowhole, literally breaking every single bone on the way down.

Luck. The irony of the word luck on the wood might have been yuck or suck, but not luck. She also mentioned the irony of that. What's your name, Miss Vagina?

Jenkins.

I'm sorry, what? Pardon?

What is it?

My name is Vagina. Rosemary Jenkins.

Most unusual.

I used to love rosemary before I got marooned here pregnant on this island.

Rosemary is one of my favorite seasonings. Hypothetically speaking, I've obviously never had it. Only heard tell for mother in all her stories about the life she used to know. I always wondered if one of the lighthouses could be used by. Used to somehow shelter and grow plants, but I never got much further than that. No seeds? I suppose they would be crucial to the enterprise.

I bet it could work with seeds and soil. And I sell both. Have a bunch of little packets back at the bus. Margaret? No. You're early. No.

Who is Margaret, mother? A landlover with clean clothes, unrotted teeth and shiny, clear skin. Very casually addressing you as an acquaintance. Make it make sense before I scream. Too late.

Yes, I'm a little lost. Are you also shipwrecked, miss?

I'm a Mermaid. I'm kidding. Though the answer may sound as bizarre as the joke, for many moons now, I come in the dead of night to take Miss Carlton a mile over to the mainland to get some toiletries and ods and ends, veg, snacks, books, fresh rosemary sprigs even. I've been doing this once a week for, I don't know, a decade at least. She struggles with insomnia, so she likes to make the journey, as she says, in the darkest portion of the night. Though this is the first I know of a son or anyone else on this island.

I thought she was alone here, Mother.

It's not how it sounds.

Boy, sure seems like it's how it sounds.

Oh, hush, vagina. What kind of ridiculous name is that? No one's buying it.

It's real. And it sounds like you really duped your own child.

Mother, you're a crooked stick. And I don't care if I wake snakes to tell you if what I think is fucking happening is actually fucking happening, I will throw you in a lighthouse stockade and lock the door. So help me Triton, me and vagina will hop on Margaret's water taxi and make the old heap ho and let you perish. And every time I look at that pair of lighthouses, I will spit twice in the direction of Thatcher island. So tell me, mother, have you been lying to me that we are stuck here? And what's more, have you been hiding rations from me to the point where I built a derelict ship and set sail in search of a better life for both of us, ultimately losing an eye because it sounds an awful. Like that is precisely what happened.

You know what?

Sorry. I misspoke. This is actually my first time on this island. I got lost. I was basically adrift. Came a deck here for no real reason. I'm bad at boating. You see, the lady there looked like a different one.

I know.

I got confused from the cold airs.

Sweet Margaret and Sweet, sweet vagina caught in the crossfire of a lying sneak. Old Seahag and her beautiful, chiseled, perfect haired, flush cheeked. Come, one eyed son. Sea devil speak.

Wait, what is that coming out of the water?

Nice try, mother. I'm not even looking. Margaret, is there something there?

Mother shoots a look at Margaret.

Looks like there could be. Like there's a little blurry shape. I can't tell if it's a bubble or it could be like a rock or a wave or a feather or.

Seabird.

Margaret. Enough of your ridiculous and transparent attempts at collaborative perjury. Vagina. Do you see anything?

Mother swivels and stares daggers at vagina. No.

Mother, you're up. Tell us all what you have done.

All right, I did it. I did secretly lie to my son. For I did want to live with him alone, in peace. Is that so wrong? To love your son and not want him exposed to the evils of mankind? The bar fights, the abusing of women, the schoolyard taunting, the hierarchies, the battles. I wanted to keep him tucked safely away.

Safely.

To keep him in nature with me, with only love and no hate, no ills of the world.

I'd like to taste some ills of the world. I'm a man. Cigarettes and cocktails, prostitutes and fried foods. I want cup links and custards and to ride a horse at full gallop. I want a pet dog. I want to be tossed in the clink after a night of obscene drinking. Whiskey and Scotch and brandy and bourbon. A vaudeville show, amusement parks, arcades, dance halls, ice skating. It's all my right. And you took it from me.

Very compelling. When I held you. When I held you as a babe and looked into your eyes and I put you to my breast and I thought, I don't want anything, anything at all, to ever come between our tranquility.

Look around, Mother. There are two lighthouses on this aisle. Not for funsies, but to market as a particularly dangerous location.

As if on cue, winds whip violently and lightning lights the sky. Thunder follows.

Look around you, damn woman. See how the wind upturns the sticks and rocks and grasses. Gaze upon the condition of silver's wing, twisted and combusted from simply trying to fly. Here above Thatcher Island. Thatcher's woe, they call it. And you're the one who told me that bit of lore.

William, I promise you, I see those things. I'm not trying to turn a blind eye. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I didn't mean to say that. Like I not. William, I wouldn't have brought you here if I hadn't seen far more dastardly things on that distant land. Your father was a bad man.

Oh, don't play your father was a bad man card. Not when my mother was you, but, oh, how shameful must it be to sin at such a great degree, you deeply disturbed winch wench. To think I might have died a virgin.

Okay, well, I'm going to pull the boat around off the rocks. I can see she's getting beat about. I'll tidy her up, light some candles and things like that. I'll leave you all to your family business here. Cheerio. Stop.

She pulls out a tiny pistol. You're right, miss. My name isn't Vagina. Very astute. I'm a pirate. It was a fictitious name, so when I hightailed it out of here, you'll never find me. How about this little ending to your sordid familial tale? I'm going to eat all your rations, particularly if you have any strawberry jam, which I happen to love. And then I'm going to tie you each to a lighthouse. I'm going to make love to Margaret on the grass, and then I'm going to point my pistol at all of you and hop aboard the ship. What is your ship called, anyway? Margaret.

It has a funny kind of name. You see, I love silver, the gold, so I incorporated part of that word, sil. And I love thatcher, Ivan. So I used the chir. I put the two together and got silcher.

Isn't silching that sordid phenomenon where you talk to someone while they defecate?

Margaret, why don't you put the words fuck and you together and get fucked? Because I can tell you're trying to buy time.

That would be food go time.

Silver go time.

William gestures wildly to the seagull, who flies straight to vagina the pirate and defecates. Very cool. You taught your stupid seagull to shit on people's heads?

In fact, I did. It's yet another illustration of how incredibly bored I have been for my entire life on this frigid island.

Cool. Well, smooth sailing, you lovers. I'm out of here. I'm feeling generous, so I'm not going to tie you up? I'm just going to back away, pointing my pistol. Load up, lady Silcher and split.

Don't do it, vagina. Take me with you. Her name isn't vagina. You were going to make love to me on the grass, were you not?

Yeah, I changed my mind. Why is that a certain expression you gave? It gave me the ick.

I hate to remind everyone I'm a virgin. In a fair world, if anyone is copulating or exiting this island, it should be me.

Ah, the thin premise that the world is fair. By the by, you ladies aren't the only ones who carry secrets. I harbor one myself. A grand, chilling secret. It will shock you and cause great despair. I'm a ghost. A figment of your imagination. You really are trapped here. Hallucinated food drops, rosemary. Ha. You wish that pungent and astringent smell were at your fingertips. You wish you were talking to someone right now.

I'm freezing.

I do wish I was talking to someone right now. Vagina. Shoot me with your pistol, please.

Oh, no. I still do plan to rob you.

And that's all we got right now, so that's all we have right now. Thank you. Thank you.

That felt good.

Thank you so much for being a part of this work in progress. That's where we've left off. I know that people could be feeling a lot of feelings right now, and this is going to be a little jarring to rush straight into the Q A, but we really do need your help. So I know that many of you probably have questions. We have time, I think, for 65 questions. So the only thing we're not really taking questions on is the accents. Okay? So I also have some questions for you. If you don't have your own, you can answer one of these. When did you cry? What parts did you cry during? Okay. Did you relate to one character the most, or was it constantly shifting equally? Is there a character you'd cut? Did the pace feel good? Did it ever drag for you? Did the story come through clearly? Would you see it again? And if so, this is a logistical question. How many times could you attend readings each week? All right, we're going to start first. Just how about a hand for my actors here today? All right, we'll begin the Q and A.

I saw a hand up over there. Yep.

Thank you, Chelsea and actors. My name's seven. As you can tell, I am actually a real british person.

Your name is seven?

Yes. It is.

Very cool.

It was supposed to be like a Boston. It was all over the place. But it did sort of land well.

No, it felt I was detecting an essence of Brit amongst you, not just you. Chelsea seemed to be channeling some Brit as well. So I wondered what it was about our great british accent that inspires people in such.

You know, I personally think of theater as anyone else. Yes. Yep. In the back, you're holding an item in your hand.

Okay.

That's an item. A drink. Question for Chelsea. Since you wrote this, did you have any personal experience with the sea or semen? Hold on. Your mic is Tinny.

She wants you to say semen.

Oh, okay. Semen. Good. I have so much experience with semen. How deep should I go? How deep did it go? Seriously? Only my cervix knows, girl. Do I have experience with the sea. I'm terrified of the sea. And this was an exploration, I think, for me, of the great power and majesty. And I love semen sometimes. Is my mic on? Okay, who's next? Yes, over there with the wristband.

Hello, I'm Remy.

What is it? Lenny. Remy. Remy, yes. Welcome.

I want to know if you're married to the name William, or can his name be Richard, since there's a vagina on stage?

Wow. Everyone likes you more than us. I think that what's really interesting is. So this play is set in the 19 hundreds. Okay. That is 100 year span. And I didn't commit to one part of that time. But I did do a lot of research and I think Richard was a common name in that time. So that's an interesting note that I might consider. Okay, so thank you. That's actually really good. Thank you. Yes. Oh, great. Applause break for the audience member. That's great. This energy when we poured our fucking hearts.

No, enjoy it. It feels nice to have people go ahead.

Yes, sir. Down in front. Yes.

Hello.

The three of us felt like this play was written by our mothers. And so we want to know how much time you spent just staring at your son before writing it.

I love this.

Well, I have a follow up question to you three. Okay. Are you triplets?

No.

Are you open to it? Yes. No. I will say this, and I'm not going to lie, this is something vulnerable. I actually did cry writing that monolog. Listen, we feel you. What am I doing? What is happening? I actually was shedding tears anyhow, so. Very astute of the three of you. We feel you. What a trio. What a trio. Who's next?

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On March 16, 2002, sheriff's deputies were shot in Atlanta. Jamil Alameen, a muslim leader and former black power activist, was convicted. But the evidence was shaky and the whole truth didn't come out. During the trial, my name is Mosi secret, and when I started investigating this case in my hometown, I uncovered a dark truth about America.

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When Walter Isaacson set out to write his biography of Elon Musk, he believed he was taking on a world changing figure.

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Next person gets fast. Ten. Yes. I'm Sarah, with no h to differentiate is my producer here? Can we cut that? The island was such a character in this drama. I was wondering if you could each speak to how you developed your work with the island as your scene partner. That's a beautiful question. Thank you. From a beautiful young lady. Okay. I open up to my actors. I've said enough already.

She's been in an acting class. I was too focused on the accent to worry about the island when I was home alone and no one else was speaking in a different way. It was great. And I just would invite you to come to my house and hear this whole thing over again with only me reading all of the parts so you could hear my really great Boston accent that turned british, because everyone else, we.

Really do want you all to hear it in a lot of different environments.

Yeah.

I did self tanner. I think the sun was huge for me and the know, and it's, you know, Chelsea first sent me this script, and I was like, wow, I'm playing her son. And so I actually spent a lot of time with your son. I enrolled in kindergarten for a year, and it was amazing. And I love you, mom.

I love you. The island really is the fifth character in this piece, and being a member of this theater troupe for so long and having been in all of Chelsea's plays, I feel like the setting is usually the other character that, like, relating with the whole time. So for me, I don't know. It just kind of came second nature because I just am so familiar with her work and just how she writes and how she does things.

The two plays.

Yeah, we've been in two. We've been in both.

This is my first one, so I didn't know that we should have a chair set for the island, but I think next time it'd be a good idea. Even you could write the word island on the will. Yeah.

Yes. In the back, on the aisle. It's you. It's you, honey. Anyone else's skin really dry? Hi. Yeah. I'm Deeksha. Nice to meet you. Is your mic on, honey bunny? Not that I'm a mic expert, but hi, I'm Deeksha. So I really cried at William's struggles with losing his virginity. So my question is, does he ever get laid?

We've talked a lot about this. Like, we devoted a lot of rehearsal to this exact question. So that's really interesting. Something's working, clearly. I'm going to throw it to the playwright. I don't want to.

And I want to defer to all the actors. No, I didn't actually know what the question was. Were you saying that you like the topic of virginity?

Does William eventually lose his virginity?

Oh. Does he get off the island? I mean, I open that up to you.

She doesn't know how to finish this thing, and she needs help.

Honey, theater is not answers, it's questions. I can't just print up a little list of answers for you. Right? The poetry is in. What are we doing? Yes? Hi. My name is Bianca. I'm curious how long you spent on this script and how many rewrites you did. It was beautiful. I'm just curious. Interesting. It's a great question. The question was, she's miked. The question was, how long did I spend on the script? I'm buying time right now, you know, a number of days. And at the moment the script started at five pages, I sent it to John. He goes, is this the whole script now? It's 13. As we were reading, there was a moment where I felt like it was dragging a little bit. It was page six. You do the math on how that felt. It's a work in progress. It's a wip.

Well. And, if I may, the last draft. Margaret. This is just some inside baseball. But Margaret wasn't a ghost.

Yeah, she sure wasn't.

That was new today.

I didn't know that was happening.

Yeah, that was a live moment. It's like the end of Rosanne. It needed that moment of. Wait a minute. Hold on. We thought we knew, but we don't. We can take 1700. More questions? Yes. Glasses, blonde hair, looking around wildly. It's you. Hi. With so much left unknown. Are you someone who subscribes to the leaf that being shit on by a bird is good luck or bad luck?

Oh, this is a really good question. Yeah. We got to go home. Wow. Yeah.

I forgot that. That does mean something's. I actually did forget that. That really adds a layer.

Before, in one of the drafts, you just had a bunch of four leaf clovers being thrown at me, and I.

Again, didn't realize they had any.

Yeah.

So that's of good ideas. Here for rewrites. Yeah.

I'm Lindsay, and I'm wondering, based on the title of your character, if you're considering consulting with star and stage of screen and no star of stage and screen, Marley Matlin. To go deeper into your character.

It's funny because. No, that was just a literative name that came to me and again, didn't think about it having to do with anyone. So that's. Again. Should I change it? I don't know. Does it add something? We're still figuring it. Know. And that's what playwrights horizons does. It kind of fosters this and. Jesse Fox. Yes. Down front. You. Mike's coming in flying.

We need it for the. Regarding the theme of ghosts, do you have any experiences with ghosts that inspired you to write that element?

I have stayed in a couple haunted hotels on the road. I don't know where to go with this, because in genuine truth, I didn't used to believe in ghosts, and now I do.

Because of a specific event.

I heard voices. Okay. I stayed at. I stayed at a hotel. I felt very creeped out in that hotel. I googled it, the name of the hotel. First thing that popped up haunted was this.

In Winnipeg, Canada?

No, they got one, too. Guys, I forget where it was. I could find it. I could figure it out. Anyway, it said something about voices someone heard. I don't know. I feel like I've already said too much.

What did the voices say? I want to know what they said to you.

I can't remember. It was something like, kill the audience.

Oh, that is scary.

No, I don't know. It's like a kid or something. I really don't remember now. I feel like one of those people that's like saying lies, but I'm not. I just can't really remember. Okay. Yes, the one that looks uncertain if it's you.

Hi, I'm Hillary.

I was wondering if vagina's fascination with.

The butt was born of a fear that the audience would be unfamiliar with.

Such an area, or if that was.

More of, like, telling about her character. I mean, I don't want to take any words.

No, please.

Because I didn't write it. But as a performer who really needed to get inside of it, I felt as though butts are funny. And the more you talk about and describe them and then end with the description of the whole. It was just funny.

And did you ever think, did anyone. I'm just curious. Did anyone make the connection between two butt cheeks, two lighthouses?

Oh, I definitely did.

Give yourself a hand if you did. Yes. In the vacation shirt.

I have a two part question. So, part one is, I'm curious if you are considering in the future maybe an act where we see what drove your character off the island, maybe some backstory. Curious about that. And part two for everyone. After such traumatic explorations of the sea, what has it been like for each of you wading back into waters in real life?

I haven't taken a bath in three days.

Um, what drove me off the island?

Do you mean off the mainland?

Oh, off to.

To the island. What drove you to the island?

I mean, it was the husband who was a bad man.

If you were bad man husband. He was asleep, listening.

Pregnant. On an island alone. Yeah. Yes. You with the two fingers up. Yeah, let's do. Mike's flying in a little slower, if we can, just because. Sorry. I'm, like, sure.

Good for podcasts. My question is a logistical question. Is the boat, the solcher. Margaret's boat, also a ghost?

Yes, I'm a ghost. My boat's a ghost. Are you really a ghost in real life?

Me?

Yeah. Yes. I knew it. Very intuitive. You're intuitive. We're getting a repeat question. That's what we like here.

Bracelets.

Digging deep.

I want to revisit the Oedipus complex. Is it possible that your character's reason for leaving was your inability to quench that thirst?

Is this how you feel about your mom? This is the guy who asked about his mom earlier. This is the guy who asked.

Oh, my gosh. Careful up here, panel. Wait.

Can't be.

I'm gay.

I'm gay.

So you can't. But also, like. I'm not. But I wouldn't fuck my mom.

I'm just curious. Okay, there.

It's a great question.

It's, like, in the literature.

Let's sit with this. Let's sit with this, everyone. How's everyone feeling? Because when there's that little rumble in the room, something's happening. There's some alchemy happening. And this young man has given us two opportunities to grow and change. And there's something very special about that. Take it. Yes, in the back.

Hello, Chelsea, it's seven again.

Oh, man, things are really devolving fast. All right, seven.

I'm putting my therapist's hat on in Europe. I am a qualified therapist and my name is seven Graham. You can google me.

I prefer we cut that. Marking that for a that.

I was actually going to remark on the Edipool complex as well, because that would seem to be an obvious.

Is his mic broken? I can't hear. All I hear is consonants. Whoa.

Okay. I was saying that the Oedipus complex seems like an obvious reason why you would be exploring the mother son relationship on an island. You have a son, so that would suggest that you're exploring the Oedipus complex on.

This is like Bane. This is like Bane. I feel like you're inside my chest cavity somehow. Your voice also, it's like when you're talking, it makes me feel like it's wire brushes being skimmed on something metal. Just. And I'm, like, sort of just mesmerized. I feel like I'm about to start flying and just go straight into your soul and I disappear. But what was the question?

Are you open to sitting with the possibility that you are exploring the Oedipus complex with your son in this play? Okay. That was one thing I just wanted you to take away and ponder. The second thing is I am actually trans masculine, non binary and an actor as well as being a star.

Okay. Then I take back everything I said about your voice. I take it back.

You're transphobic. You're transphobic. No, I was going to say, if you would like slash Richard to explore his sexuality, would you be open to a british trans masculine person coming into this and pegging him because he's gorgeous and.

What?

Pegging you?

I think we're all very open to that.

We're open? Yeah. In short, yes. Can we open all the. Yeah, that. Yep. One and then two. Right in front of him. Okay.

Hi, Chelsea. I'm Sergio.

Hi.

The way you've written this, we can really feel a backstory for vagina and your son for the actors. I was wondering, what kind of backstory did you imagine when you came into the role? What did you design?

I just spent a lot of time thinking about my own vagina, but I kind of always do that. So I don't know if that's. I'm going to think about that. I'm going to think about that.

Oh, no.

I'm actually asking this question on behalf of my 50. I thought that was Dosha's voice, because I was waiting for her to answer. I got so confused. He didn't ask about me. What? He didn't ask about my.

Well, okay, well, maybe your backstory wasn't mean. Right.

Well, okay, sorry. I didn't mean to create a situation. No, it's fine. You just didn't ask about mine. Well, I'd like to hear. Okay.

Were you also thinking about my vagina?

Sure.

For your backstory.

My backstory was really deep, but I'll share it with the people who want to hear.

Oh, no.

Oh, you've made her mad. You've upset her.

Well, how did you die? How are you a ghost? How did you die?

Wait a minute. You're done. You're done? We were moving on to the girl in front of you, then I thought Zosh didn't have her turn, and then it was just mayhem. Okay, we're going to come back to yes. You prepare yourself. This is a question from my 15 year old son. And that's ironic because John's character is 15. Hi. He wants to know, I know vagina Jenkins was planning on banging Margaret before she revealed that she was a ghost.

Does that plan in the next act still stand?

Okay, I have to ask some follow up questions.

Were you on a zoom?

Where is your son?

Okay. Hi.

Stand up. I am not engaging. I am not engaging. Okay, well, you don't have to speak, but only put a thumbs up if you did, in fact, write that question.

Okay. It's a great question.

Okay. Now, I have to admit, I don't remember what it was, but probably the answer is yes. If you think about how we've been trending. Does anyone remember it?

It was so great.

I think there's actually a lot that I'm hearing about. People are wanting to know what happens next, and I think that's a really great sign.

Oh, yeah.

But I think specifically what happens next sexually.

Right? Who gets banged, and do you bang a ghost? Is this about ghost banging? I, too, got lost halfway through the question, but I got really excited. I was picturing you guys on, like, zoom, you watching, and then it was great that you're here, and it's awesome how mortified you are is the best part of the whole thing.

We love you.

Oh, yeah.

Don't hide.

Yeah, no. Do you want to come sit up here?

It's like. No, I only want to type five page questions in total secrecy. Can't remember what I was going to say. Okay. Yeah. We have five minutes left.

He's back for round three.

Oh, no. We got to take a new person. New person. Go. If we have time left, we'll come back to you, sir. Hi. My name is Aubrey. The beginning part of the. I guess the plays. Your character is pregnant and escapes a bad situation. Sure. To an island. Are you aware that's kind of the plot of the movie practical magic?

Oh, Chelsea. Oh, Chelsea.

Do you see that lawsuit from Nicole Kimmen and Sandra Bullock? Do you see that as a plus or is it an area of concern? It's an area of concern. Well, maybe I could redo a rewrite where she stole him as a baby. That kind of motivates her fleeing to the island nicely.

It would also really allow for the coitus possibility maybe a little bit more palatable for people.

Oh, God. I don't know about that being a. I don't either.

I don't know.

I really love that because then they could have sex just based on a kind of edible urge.

And then it sort of ties this whole thing together.

Still 15, and she's, like, 68, is she? 15 years, she said. Really? 15 years ago, I was pregnant with you on this island. Hello.

I didn't read anything other than my parts.

That was a very stately 15 on my part.

One thing I like to do when I get a role is just go through and highlight facts about my character. Make a little list. Yes.

Can we get more ghosts? The second lighthouse may be haunted.

Right now you're thinking, like, you're getting, like, that one with all the women. The ensemble. Juliet Lewis.

A surprise ghost.

Yellow jackets. All ghosts. Turn it into yellow jackets. Is that what you're kind of saying?

Better, though. Better.

Better. Okay. Yeah.

Thank you. I was under the impression this was a musical. Is that a possibility in the future?

I felt so much angst when you said that because whatever format I grabbed off a final draft did say musical.

I, too, got scared. I, too got scared. I was like, oh, no, I didn't agree to that.

And I kept trying to delete it from the header. And so this gave me, like, a moment of panic. Just like when someone said this was a movie plot that already existed. It reminded me of that. Almost the ghost of that question. To keep on the ghost theme. Yes. Banana clip. This is a question for everyone at the table. Food test. Rosemary sprigs.

That's really good.

I forget, is it a yes no binary. On the food test, you have to.

Say good or bad, and then I'll tell you if you're right or wrong.

Oh, right. Okay, good.

Everyone has to do it, though, because otherwise it would be a spoiler.

I don't like saying yes or no. I'm very long.

That's the point. But there's bad we know.

Well, we know that she made that very clear. One thing at a time. We already know.

Good. So bad. Good.

I'm going to go with good. Although it can be overpowering and you don't want to use too much of it or whatever.

You're all right. It's good.

Oh, my God. Great.

Good. I'd press my things, but they don't.

My armpit in the room started sweating.

All right, I'm sweating, too. Oh. We have 56 seconds. So we take 54 questions. Go. Oh, yeah, probably. There he goes. Whoa.

Okay. My question was, I was wondering, what's your writing process like? Other than plagiarizing from practical magic, what.

Else do you do?

I'm an aspiring writer.

Well, good luck with the networking you've just done. You'll never write a play in this town. My writing process. I google, I steal. I google, I steal, apparently. No, I think the devil's in the details. Okay. There's a lot of details in here that if you listen to this as a podcast, you can look them up. They're true. I read about Thatcher island. There's actually. I don't want to spoil this because I need to get it, and I don't want you to get it. First, there's merch for Thatcher island. There's a denim shirt with two lighthouses that says Thatcher island and Anne's eyes.

Is that real?

Yeah, real nickname, Thatcher's. Whoa. Okay. There's even a crazier story. 10 seconds left. There was a mafia guy that was turned and was FBI informant and they housed him on the island. And somehow I didn't make the play about that. The end.

Chelsea, everybody. The playwright.