My last blog about Woman on the Scarlet Beast dealt with the endless rejections a writer must face. (4/8/14) In the case of my play, it would be more accurate to say it was not so much rejected as ignored. I can understand cronyism. In the tightly knit world of theater, an unknown writer with a play is as welcome as a skunk at a picnic.
This lament I shared with a friend over lunch one day when I was feeling low. She cooed in sympathy, then, as an afterthought, suggested I talk to a local actor she’d never met but who was an alumnus of the college I had attended. The connection was slim, but better than no connection, so I took down the actor’s name and the number of the theater where he’d last appeared in a production. That afternoon I made the call.
A voice answered after a few rings. Its owners seemed puzzled because, for a moment, the connection fell silent. Anxious, I repeated the name I’d been given.
“Yes, I understand who it is you want to talk to,” came the reply. “But he’s not here and this isn’t his number. May I ask why you’re calling?”
Now it was my turn to lose my voice. What could I say to avoid having the receiver slammed in my ear? Dare I admit I didn’t know the person whose name I’d been given; that I was a playwright in search of an audience; that I didn’t know anyone in theater’s inner circle and I had no bona fides?
With no legitimate way to get my foot in the door, I did what was necessary. I told the truth.
Another period of silence followed before the disembodied voice answered. “Okay. But you’re been asking for the wrong guy. I‘m the theater’s Executive Director. Why don’t you come over and we’ll talk about your play.”
I leapt from my chair, stunned. “Really?”
“Really.”
(Courtesy of dfw.cbslocal.com)
Next time: Meeting the Executive Director of Post5 Theatre.
