A Post-Mortem

What happens when you work with good actors is that they are capable of going deep quick.

I have experienced this with each reading of my script so far (I have been lucky), and to watch two actors – delve into what I wrote – playing the scenes out, listening, talking, reacting – is a mind-boggling experience, and something very unique. It involves feeling really proud and TOTALLY humble in the very same moment. I watched some of the things that happened between Jeff and Amy during the reading (and the rehearsals), and it’s one of those moments where, as a writer, I stop being able to “take credit” for what is happening. That’s the magic of collaboration. Yes, I wrote it. But they are just words on a page. Amy and Jeff made my words seem like a real and urgent conversation, spontaneous and unexpected, and of course that was my goal – I worked hard on that dialogue to make it feel real – but without capable actors who are able to go deep QUICK, none of it would be possible. We only had two rehearsals. But it is amazing what you can get done in two rehearsals if you have willing open people, ready to dive in and do it 100%. The same thing happened in Los Angeles. It’s a small miracle. It was also so great to see two OTHER actors do the play. It gives me confidence that what I have written is not too specific. It’s playable for a wide variety of actors. That is hard to know when you are working in isolation on a script, and all of the dialogue is said in your own head by YOU. To this date, four couples have read my script. Missy and cousin Mike, the first reading. David and Jen, the second. Peter and Rebecca, the third. Amy and Jeff, the fourth. All individuals, different, unique, but the event of the play emerged. I can breathe a sigh of relief. That’s the biggest fear. That what is in my head will not PLAY, will not be CLEAR.

We met at Amy’s apartment for our first rehearsal. I haven’t seen Jeff since we were young summery 20-somethings, cavorting in the fields in Wisconsin. So it was a total time-travel moment, and Jeff said to me later, “There’s something perfect about all of this, isn’t there?” He is perfect for Jack. And Amy is currently in previews at North Light for the Ayckbourn play Season’s Greetings, so her schedule was jam-packed, and she gave up her one day off to do the reading. So so glad it worked out the way it did. I am protective of Neve (the character). I do realize I have to let her go a little bit, and with each actress who reads the role, that becomes easier. If the actress is good, then Neve will be safe in her hands. It’s a tough part, no getting around it. Both are tough parts. But within 10 minutes of Jeff and Amy reading at that first rehearsal, I totally relaxed, and just watched them listen and talk, almost (not quite, but almost) forgetting that I had written it.

Discussions of the script were brief but intense. In Los Angeles I did a major rewrite. This last time, not so much. It was only tweaks at this point. (Huge relief. Rewrites are stressful, although necessary.)

The reading was Monday night, and we met at the theatre at 3 p.m. to rehearse again beforehand. After a last-minute scramble to find someone to read stage directions (a very important job – although thankless), Mitchell reached out to his Second City friend John Hartman, and he kindly agreed. The stage directions may seem like you just have to show up and read them, but they do require a sense of timing – and John has that in spades as a comedian. The opening scene in my play is made up of brief snapshots, fragments of behavior and snippets of dialogue – the way memory acts like a flip-book: when you look back on something, you rarely remember it literally or in chronological order. Images emerge and subside, you remember a joke made, a kiss shared, whatever. So basically, all of that has to be suggested via stage directions in a staged reading – lots of “Blackouts” and “Lights Up”, and all of that, and John was just perfect. I am very grateful to this busy young man for giving freely of his time. He also came up to me after the rehearsal and said that my script reminded him a little bit of Brief Encounter which, of course, is a huge compliment.

We went to dinner across the street. Mitchell gave some notes. (Another miracle: with good actors, you only need to give a note once. Mitchell was giving notes before the reading, and we didn’t have any more rehearsal time to incorporate them, but then – the notes just “showed up” during the performance, perfectly and effortlessly. That’s the mark of fluid and talented actors.) We all talked and laughed. These are funny people. It was a great group dynamic. Jordan and Bree showed up – I hadn’t seen Jordan at all during my entire stay in Chicago – so I was so glad to get to see him. And that was my first real bolt of nerves. Audience members! People converging on Theatre Wit! The reading is approaching!

We wanted to serve wine at the reading so I left dinner a bit early to walk down to the corner liquor store to buy some wine. That was a whole experience in and of itself and it involves Elvis and I will tell it in a separate post, but suffice it to say: it was a moment of good luck, and good will, and generosity. It came from out of the clear blue sky, and I left the liquor store carrying the bottles of wine and … a certain gift that dropped into my lap, my heart singing with excitement about the upcoming reading.

My mother came to Chicago for the reading. My sister Siobhan’s new mother-in-law lives in Oak Park and I had gone out there on Sunday night for dinner. Many of Ben’s family members came to the reading, which really really touched me. We also had good friends there – Jordan, Bree, John, Meghan, Kate, Ann Marie, and others. There were some blog-friends there, people I haven’t met before, which was exciting and cool. I finally got to meet the spectacular Marilyn Ferdinand, and her husband, and her comments afterwards were really acute, and insightful. I am still torn about the title (it’s had about four titles as of this writing), and it’s driving me crazy. Marilyn’s comments were really smart on that level (everyone’s were – we wanted specifically to know afterwards what people thought of the title), and it was just so cool to have her there. It gave me a warm feeling. The Internet may be seen as a social distancer, but not in my world. It brings people together. I was totally shocked and surprised after the reading to be approached by a young woman who basically just said she’s a fan of my site, she lives in Chicago, and so she decided to come. How nice is that?? I was so touched. Mark – a guy I have been corresponding with for years – drove down from Milwaukee. I had never met him before. (He’s made banners for me before, and he also took charge of my blog migration. We have a mutual friend – Pat McCurdy – and have probably met, although neither of us remember it. It was so cool he came, driving all that way! Also to put a face to the name!)

I thank everyone who showed up. There wasn’t one empty seat, and it really gave the reading a feeling of a performance, which was helpful for me as a writer. I didn’t know everyone in that room. There were people there I had never met. Friends of Amy’s or Mitchell’s – so it definitely felt like an audience, rather than a gathering of my personal friends.

Ann Marie was the first to arrive. She had brought gifts. A small gift bag holding a bottle of champagne and … a freakin’ gourd. In order to understand the joke, you will have to read this doozy of a Diary Friday entry, which is from YEARS ago, but of course Ann Marie remembered, and the image of her going out to buy a gourd – a GOURD – and then writing a little message on it to me – made me laugh so hard I was crying. The colons kill me. So formal. So crazy.

Oh, Chicago. City of my crazy youth when I was juggling the Triumvirate of boyfriends, and sending men gourds backstage, thinking that that was somehow appropriate. To be back in Chicago with my script … (and to have Ann Marie show up with a freakin’ personalized gourd) … was just PERFECT.

And then the evening began! People arriving! My mother and Ann (Ben’s mother)! Ben’s family members (all of whom I had seen out in Oak Park – so nice they came!) My dear friend Kate. Love that woman. Dammit. Bree. Jordan. People drinking wine. Chatting. I was socially overwhelmed (seeing a bunch of people from different walks of my life is usually a bit overwhelming for me), but also really happy. Like I said to Ann Marie beforehand, “I am so excited for it to be two hours from now, so I can look back on this and reminisce about it!” It was the anticipation that was killing me!

But I felt totally safe, with Mitchell in charge, Amy and Jeff walking around with their scripts in binders, and John, setting himself up off to the side for stage directions. (He had jokingly complained during rehearsal that he didn’t get to be on the platform. Hahaha.) All I needed to do was just sit back and watch.

The space was bare. A show had closed the day before, and the set had been removed, all the chairs broken down. We had set up a small platform for the two actors, and put out 40 chairs. There was no special lighting. The space was a workspace, which ended up being kind of perfect for our purposes. There were no distractions from the play itself, from the dynamic between the two actors. I’ll never forget it.

Mitchell made a brief opening speech, introduced the actors, and then it began.

I am not big on parsing apart transcendent experiences because doing so does sometimes ruin the memory itself. Suffice it to say: what happened in that theatre that night was unforgettable. I found myself holding my breath during certain scenes. Laughter came in giant waves, huge explosions of laughter almost constantly throughout the first long scene (which is what I want: always nervewracking, though – as Mike whispered to me before the reading in LA: “You won’t relax until you get the first laugh.”) I had no worries on that score. People were howling. Mitchell and I kept looking at each other, briefly, excited, and ramped up, before turning back to look at the stage. And while the laughter does continue and there are funny moments in the following three scenes, the entire energy changed – as I wanted it to – and there was a moment when I looked at Jordan, Bree, and Meghan, sitting in front of me and Mitchell, and all three of them had leaned forward at the same moment.

I felt a tiny inner explosion of “YES“, but these are the moments not to be dwelled on or parsed apart because there is still too much work to do. I am just gratified beyond belief that what I have written seems to play, and that I had such an incredible team (thank you thank you Mitchell for putting it all together) to help me have this damn play heard.

After the show, we all went out to the bar across the street, and talked, and laughed, and drank whiskey (well, I did), and talked about the play, yes, but also talked about our lives, and what we all are up to.

It was a magical and heartwarming evening, and I am proud and feel a little bit – quiet, actually – about the whole thing. That may seem like a contradiction since I just wrote a long post about it, but I have a lot of percolating to do. I look forward to having a post-mortem with Mitchell at some point, and Amy and Jeff as well.

Moving forward. Passing the script on to theatre companies. That’s where we’re at now.

The thing is ready to be put on its feet.

That was the biggest gift of all. I’ve been working on this thing for 2 years. It’s ready to walk on its own. Nervewracking, but that, after all, is the whole point.

Thank you to the cast. Thank you to John H. for reading those stage directions. We needed you. Thank you Mitchell for knowing what the event is of the play, and for giving such specific concise notes that the actors could easily play them. Thank you, Jeff, for bringing Jack to life, for reading that “obituaries” monologue with such quiet reality, you could have heard a pin drop in that room while you were talking. You completely understood what I was going for. You’re the best. Thank you, Amy, for bringing your considerable acting talents to the role of Neve, for letting her be funny, warm, sexy, adorable – at the same time that she is rigid, opinionated and strident. You didn’t make a decision about her that LIMITED her. You let her be all of those glorious things. So important. You’re amazing. And thank you to Theatre Wit for allowing us to use that wonderful space.

And to everyone who showed up, to everyone who participated in the talkback – your comments were so helpful. So awesome. I am still thinking about all of them, and will turn over your responses over the next couple of weeks. You have helped me immeasurably to understand what I have written, and how it goes over, and what it actually IS. I loved listening to all of you battle it out and agree/disagree. What a gift for a writer.

Thank you again.