I s'pose it's official...
Contracts are signed, and subscription packages are available: Ordinary Days gets its regional premiere this summer!
There's a funny thing that happens as I find myself getting more and more professional gigs with my writing. The strangest thing, the thing that takes the most getting used to, is that, suddenly, other people do stuff to make your show happen.
This probably sounds really stupid, but... As I'm sure is the case for most people, a career as a theater writer begins as an extremely hands-on endeavor. When my first musical premiered, I wrote/produced/cast/music directed/company managed/represented/prop shopped/marketed/fundraised/you-name-it two back-to-back productions, with the help, of course, of about three of my dear friends.
Shortly after that experience, I vowed never to do that again.
But you get the picture: getting your work out there involves a job description with multiple slashes.
These days, having a show up creates an eerie calm. I email someone a script and a score. And soon, with perhaps an email from a marketing director, or a phone call from an orchestrator, voila! There's a theater selling tickets to your show; there's a brochure with your name in it; there's a casting director sending out breakdowns for your roles.
There are people you've never met creating charts like this:
So that other people you've never met can buy tickets to your show!
Don't get me wrong, it's super cool. But it still feels bizarre. It wasn't so long ago that self-producing was my only option for having my work done. (And, you know, I haven't reached a point yet where it's not a possibility, either!) And self-producing, in my experience, literally involves every ounce of your energy, every second of your day, every fiber of your will to make it happen.
So, while I'm a little weirded out that total strangers have now lifted that burden from my shoulders, I'm also a little relieved.
Another side effect of all this is that, because I do have this neurotic feeling that I should be doing more to make this whole thing happen, I'm able to channel that pent-up energy into other projects that still need my attention.
Let's just say that, instead of me worrying about why that actor's being a pain in the ass, or why there aren't enough postcards, or addressing the feeling of guilt for not being able to pay people enough for their time, Bernice Bobs Her Hair is getting A LOT of dance music for its reading in May!
There's a funny thing that happens as I find myself getting more and more professional gigs with my writing. The strangest thing, the thing that takes the most getting used to, is that, suddenly, other people do stuff to make your show happen.
This probably sounds really stupid, but... As I'm sure is the case for most people, a career as a theater writer begins as an extremely hands-on endeavor. When my first musical premiered, I wrote/produced/cast/music directed/company managed/represented/prop shopped/marketed/fundraised/you-name-it two back-to-back productions, with the help, of course, of about three of my dear friends.
Shortly after that experience, I vowed never to do that again.
But you get the picture: getting your work out there involves a job description with multiple slashes.
These days, having a show up creates an eerie calm. I email someone a script and a score. And soon, with perhaps an email from a marketing director, or a phone call from an orchestrator, voila! There's a theater selling tickets to your show; there's a brochure with your name in it; there's a casting director sending out breakdowns for your roles.
There are people you've never met creating charts like this:
So that other people you've never met can buy tickets to your show!
Don't get me wrong, it's super cool. But it still feels bizarre. It wasn't so long ago that self-producing was my only option for having my work done. (And, you know, I haven't reached a point yet where it's not a possibility, either!) And self-producing, in my experience, literally involves every ounce of your energy, every second of your day, every fiber of your will to make it happen.
So, while I'm a little weirded out that total strangers have now lifted that burden from my shoulders, I'm also a little relieved.
Another side effect of all this is that, because I do have this neurotic feeling that I should be doing more to make this whole thing happen, I'm able to channel that pent-up energy into other projects that still need my attention.
Let's just say that, instead of me worrying about why that actor's being a pain in the ass, or why there aren't enough postcards, or addressing the feeling of guilt for not being able to pay people enough for their time, Bernice Bobs Her Hair is getting A LOT of dance music for its reading in May!
posted by Adam at 5:52 PM
2 Comments:
hell yes, Adam. Well done! So sorry I missed out on Monday's performance - I was traveling for business.
everything always comes full circle. i'm auditioning for ordinary days on monday at the penn centerstage so i googled the musical to find out more about it and found this post. thought you might get a kick out of that.
great music by the way. as a lost 20-something myself, can't wait to hear more.
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