Drama Club Camp

I’m writing from a comfortable couch in a sun-drenched room in Mt. Vernon, ME. Danny is a little ways down the path working in the brand new, fully equipped recording studio. We are at the right time — our first residency ever — working on Mimosa: The Disobedient Plant thanks to the generosity of Shannon Morrison and Scott Ihrig. We are surrounded by other artists. As I write, I can hear some of them working in the next room. With one exception, it’s all people I hadn’t met before. As usual, so many immensely talented musicians and performers, if I thought too hard about it, I’d be back to wondering if I belong in the room with them. But since I’m here, I guess I do.

This is a wonderful place. Everything’s immaculate. Everyone’s warm. It’s a wide-open rainbow of a place. I am at the right place, with the right people, at the right time.

William Finn

My dear friend and mentor, William Finn, died last month.

Bill made it his mission to help launch “young” writers — a very rare thing. He was a gigantic personality with an even more gigantic heart and talent. The instant I met him, my life became infinitely richer and more interesting.

Bill invited me into his life, and his home. He made introductions. He created opportunities for my work to be heard.

I firmly believe that it’s because Bill thought I was good, that my classmates decided I was good and wanted to write with me.

There were times, especially during the pandemic, when he called me daily, sometimes twice a day, because he was bored. I always picked up the phone — I think that’s why he called me. He’d ask, “What’s new?” I’d wrack my brain to come up with anything to say. What could be new? We’d just spoken. And it was the pandemic.

When I asked him what was new, his answer was always the same: “Whatever.”

In the last couple of years, there have been fewer phone calls, but we still spoke at least once a week, even when neither of us had anything to report. He often called when I was busy, and I generally called him back when I was out walking. Yesterday afternoon I was out walking, and it hit me that I didn’t have to call him back…

Bill and I don’t speak on the phone since he died, but we continue to speak, and he continues to support me, push me and admonish me. He cares. And for that, I am forever grateful.

You Get Another Call

Four or five years ago, a producer sponsored a contest. He asked for two-person scenes/songs between famous couples, real or imaginary, and promised that those selected would be published.

Danny and I thought it would be nice to be published, so we entered. Our piece was selected. The producer’s office reached out to ask if we would rewrite the song as a solo because they decided some variety would be nice. We rewrote the song.

That was years ago. We heard from the producer’s office a couple of times, for what I don’t remember, but it’s been ages since they last contacted us. It’s clear that this promised publication is not happening.

And that is the world of Musical Theater Writing.

But nothing is ever a waste of time. We like the scene and the song. We asked Belén Moyano and Demond Green to record the song for us, and it’s now available on all the streaming services. Thank you Jessie Glass for the fantastic graphic.