Get inside my creative mind.

Corazones Muertos by April Airriona Jones March 18, 2013

Filed under: Writing — aprilreignshowers @ 5:44 pm
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Excerpt from a play I’m working on. I tutor Spanish so I wanted to incorporate the language somehow. Enjoy 🙂 

(Lights up for three Hispanic teenagers. Their names are CHALE, EDUARDO and MATEO. They all look like they’ve gotten run over by a truck. Their clothes are ripped, they have scratches and bruises on their arms and faces. MATEO has a poorly dressed gash on his forehead. The blood is seeping from it, but he doesn’t seem bothered. CHALE and MATEO are carrying rifles while EDUARDO has an axe in his hand. There is a loud noise and the boys hold up their weapons ready to attack.)


(pointing his rifle at the door)

¡Mierda! What was that?


Fuck if I know.


(more scared than the others)

It’s those things! I knew hiding in here was a bad idea.


Stop calling them things, you pussy. They are zombies, hombre! Zombies!


Does it matter what they are called? They are going to kill us.


(holding up his rifle)

That’s why we have these. Blast those fuckers right in the head before they can even think of eating us. ¡Muerte!



Yeah. I don’t think my intestines would be too appetizing. Let ‘em starve.


Then they’ll get even angrier. Se enojan. I don’t want to die.


We won’t. All we have to do is hide in here. They eventually have to leave.


No sé, man. We have to do something else.



Vale. Let’s open the door and when they start coming in just swing your axe and see what happens.


¡Te joda!


We gotta go out there eventually.


(gives MATEO a disconcerting look)





¿Cómo? How do we do that?



(looks over at EDUARDO)

We need bait.


Fuck no!


We’re not using Eduardo! Are you trying to get him killed? He’s scared enough as it is.


Come on!


¡Yo lo sabía! Chale, I told you to leave his ass where we found him. Pero no, you had to be the fucking hero.


He was going to die. You see that big gash on his head. He would have bled out.


But now he wants to throw me out there with those things. Hell no! (to MATEO) I’m not going out there.


(smiles again)

I didn’t ask you to.


You looked at me!


Well, we have to do something.




He’s right.


¿Qué? You’re agreeing with him?




I see how it is. You both have been plotting against me to knock me off. It’s because I’m the weak link, right? Well, fuck you both! 


Having a screening of Life as an Oreo at my college next month. February 12, 2013

Filed under: Writing — aprilreignshowers @ 8:19 pm
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This is important for me. A friend suggested that this play needed to be seen again at my school and I was hesitant, but since it was filmed I said “What the heck?” and planned the event. 

Now I get the chance to actually talk about my play with the audience. After the first performance, there was no talk back and that was a dangerous thing. The play brings up some sensitive issues and people need to talk about them. 


I need to write another play. February 2, 2013

Filed under: Writing — aprilreignshowers @ 5:14 pm
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I’m still stuck on the high of “Life as an Oreo”. Everyday, someone new is praising me about the play and the bold choices that I made. That’s wonderful. It’s so fulfilling because the initial response for the play wasn’t a great one.

I did the first performance of it as a senior project last December. At that time it was a one-woman show so everything fell on me–even the negative response.

I would hear of people getting offended by my words. They would call me racist and say things like “I don’t talk like that! Why would she write that?” It was like people wanted me to be quiet about the things that I felt. If someone says something inappropriate then why can’t I respond to it. It’s the right thing to do. I just used an art form to do that.

For awhile, the negative comments had me regretting writing “Oreo” because they made me feel like I did something wrong. That I stepped out of my place. Even though I haven’t suffered as my ancestors have, it made me feel a little bit of how they felt. Second class.

Then some sense found its way into me and I realized that I did everything right. I brought light to the issue of race and identity on campus. I put it in people’s minds. Did anything change? I don’t know, but at least I had people thinking about it.

The play started so many conversations on campus. My sister told me her class talked for a bit about it. There were various opinions on it and that was a good thing. Although, my sister being my sister stood up for me whenever anyone said anything bad about it.

Since it’s success at the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival for my region and it moving forward as a National Semi-Finalist, people have been coming out of the woodwork to get an interview or know more about it. I guess that’s how I wish it was in the beginning. You can’t have everything.

I guess the point of this is that I need stop being afraid and continue to write more theatre like “Life as an Oreo”. It’s what I do best. I want to reach the masses. I want to create theatre for people like me.

“Oreo” gave me the stepping stone.


Life as an Oreo by April Airriona Jones January 18, 2013

Filed under: Writing — aprilreignshowers @ 5:37 pm
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“Life as an Oreo” is a one-act play that I wrote. It was picked as a regional semi-finalist for the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival. It is now a National Semi-Finalist and if it makes the next round there will be a staged concert reading at the Kennedy Center in April.

The play explores identity issues in the African American community and other things. It talks about the idea of “good hair”, interracial relationships and etc. Please pass this along if you feel compelled to do so 🙂


My one woman show “Life as an Oreo” was picked for the National Playwrighting Program for the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival :) December 9, 2012

Filed under: Writing — aprilreignshowers @ 4:50 am

I’m so proud of myself 🙂 


I wrote a new play called “You Will Grow” November 15, 2012

Filed under: Writing — aprilreignshowers @ 12:03 am

I got the inspiration from this Tupac lyric: 

Just ’cause you’re in the ghetto

doesn’t mean you can’t grow. 

It’s about a 17 year old black boy who wants to go to college one day, but his circumstances of living in the projects and his unsupported father kind of hold him back. 


Snippet of my one woman show called “Life as an Oreo” October 10, 2012

Filed under: Plays,Writing — aprilreignshowers @ 2:04 pm
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(“Runaway” by Kanye West plays as WOMAN crumbles up the post-its and discards them in the container with the rest of the props and pulls out Christie doll and a Ken doll. She turns the chair so that it as at an angle with the back facing toward stage left. The music fades out.)


(She holds up both of the dolls, one in each hand. She stares at them with a little smile on her face. She pushes them together as if she was going to make them kiss, but suddenly stops. She frowns.)

Urban Dictionary defines Jungle Fever as an interracial relationship, usually between a white person and a black person. Some take this term as derogatory because it makes black people out to be as animals and that we are causing this disease or “fever” that is trapping white people.


One race isn’t trapping the other when these so called jungle fever relationships happen. See, what is happening is this amazing and awe-aspiring thing called mutual attraction. I see the person first and the color last and even then it’s irrelevant to me.

(She stands up and starts making pictures with the dolls.)

My family tells me that if marry a white man then I’ll be in competition with his damn dog. My friends try to explain to me that I will never know the wonders of a “mandingo”…whatever that means. Outsiders try to dissuade me by staring holes into me if I’m out with a white man or on the rare occasion get bold and verbally express their distaste. The only thing I see as my real problem in the future is learning that my choice of love will always look different to some.

Then, I guess, somewhere down the line will come to me having to beg him to cuddle with me and not his dog.