Mea Culpa

Much to the chagrin of some, I have made no secret that the last seven days have been extremely difficult ones for me. Instead of excitedly preparing for and seeing the premiere of my new play, I watched it crash and burn, along with some pretty significant and longstanding relationships.

I have spent a lot of time reflecting on the events of the past week and what is involved when working on a developmental piece. Now that the smoke has started to clear and I have moved beyond my initial disappointment, I would be remiss if I didn't point a few things out. This is not a post about full disclosure or pointing fingers, so I won't share all of the sordid details. However, it is important that I share a few of them.

In fairness to the theater and to the cast, when we started this process the script was not complete. It was nowhere near it. We began rehearsals with a couple of scenes and then, over the next few weeks, I would provide a scene here and there. We did not have a full script until three weeks before our scheduled opening, which we had to push back. Even after finishing the script, I was tweaking and rewriting. I cannot imagine how frustrating that must have been for the actors. I know how difficult it was for me as a writer to complete the script, I am sure it was just as hard for the actors who were anticipating pages, only to repeatedly come up empty handed.

I have also learned the importance of open communication and testing understanding. These are tactics I use in my office environment all the time but not as often as I should in my theatrical endeavors. The words "in development" can be interpreted differently by different people. I should have been more forthcoming with the theater and the cast about what I perceive "in development" to mean. I think we could have avoided a lot of confusion and tension if we had been more up front about the expectations we had of one another.

I am, without doubt, a flawed person. One of my biggest flaws is my inability to say "no," which often results in me over-committing myself. In this instance, that character flaw ended up working against me as I tried to juggle work, family and volunteering while attempting to write, direct and oversee the production of a new play. Promises were made and were not kept because, through nobody's fault but my own, the hours and the energy were in short supply. 

Over the past week, in writing about my personal feelings and sharing my disappointment, I have egregiously neglected to share a very important point. The cast and the crew that were involved in this production gave everything they had, despite the constant challenges they were faced with. They were very committed to their roles, to the piece and to the theater. Without their efforts, I would not have been able to create the characters that now live on the pages of this script. Whatever the next step, I will be forever grateful for their talents and contributions.

This chapter of my life was a difficult one to write. I have made every attempt to be as honest and forthcoming as I can be. I hope that the people who care can see that. I am a firm believer that there are two sides to every story and then there is what really happened. I have learned some very hard lessons and I hope that the knowledge I've gained will prevent me from making the same mistakes down the road. With this blog, I am not attempting to garner a sympathy following or trying to make excuses, I am only chronicling this journey because it is an important one for me. 

Mea culpa. I'm sorry. Time to write the next chapter.

Frozen

Structure. Deadline. Criticism. Marketability.

These words can make a writer quake in his (or her) boots. I've learned, though, that no word is more frightening to a writer than the word "frozen." We are four days away from presenting the first workshop production of A Gift of Undetermined Value and, without doubt, we are 99.7% frozen, save a word change here and there. Understandably, the actors in this production requested a frozen script about two weeks ago.

It is times like this that I wish I had the luxury afforded writers working on a new piece opening Off-Broadway or (wishfully thinking) on Broadway. Even writers working on a work-in-progress at the O'Neill Theater Center have this luxury: the ability to rewrite up to the night (or afternoon) before a show opens.

As I sit in rehearsal and watch talented actors make my words sound better than I believe them to be, I feel like the man in the photo above. Frozen, bound and yearning for warmer temperatures. I know that I can change a word, a couple of lines or a scene and make it so much better. Yet I am bound by being frozen. What a horrible feeling.

I know I am not alone. Many creative artists of note have obviously struggled with this. My favorite Stephen Sondheim show Merrily We Roll Along has been rewritten and reproduced more times than I care to count. Stephen Schwartz rewrote the end of Pippin, one of my favorite shows. And let's talk about the Costco scene that was written out of the Pulitzer Prize-winning musical Next to Normal.

Our show opens on Thursday and what will be presented is the script that has spent most of its time sitting in the freezer for two weeks. But rest assured, I have been taking copious notes and have spent many hours rewriting scenes and characters for the next chapter, which is planned for June 2013.

When the script and my hands thaw from the frostbite, this play will be on fire!

Look I Made A Hat! But Should I Wear It?

I have directed many shows in my lifetime. I've also written a couple, including one currently under a first-class Broadway option. I like to think I am fairly good at both directing and writing. However, I've never been in the position of directing a script I've written. Until now. I know it can be done and done well. I mean, look at Woody Allen, Cameron Crowe, Quentin Terantino and Nora Ephron. Even red hot zygote Lena Dunham has a handful of statues lauding her for how well she wears multiple hats.

But guess what? Directing your own work is really hard. Now I understand why most people don't do it.

The project I am currently working on is A Gift of Undetermined Value, a play that explores the bioethical issues of organ donation by prison inmates. It also examines the strain that trying events can put on the important relationships in our lives. It is not a light script and it was/is very difficult to write. Even more challenging, however, is the rehearsal process where the demand for me to sit in the director's chair trumps the time I need to spend in the metaphorical writer's room (a.k.a. my bedroom). However, when we are discussing a less-than-perfect scene and an actor says, "That scene sucked!," I find it very hard not to go scurrying back to my bedroom, filled with self-doubt and the fervent desire to fix the scene.

This play is still in development and I definitely see a life beyond the March workshop production at The Brookfield Theatre for the Arts. I am confident that I have it in me to one day be a middle-aged Lena Dunham. However, in order for that to happen, something's gotta give and now is not the time to be giving up the paying job or my family responsibilities.

Until then, I am currently looking for someone to keep my director's chair warm. Applications being accepted at alicia.dempster@me.com.

I'm not kidding.