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.

A Play by Lauren Kahane

Clearly, it’s better to be a finalist than not be a finalist. And Danny and I have been a finalist twice recently. Regretting Almost Everything was a finalist for NAMT. And Mimosa: The Disobedient Plant was a finalist for Circle in the Square Theatre School’s Emerging Writer Residency.

Most recently, Danny and I interviewed for a week-long residency this coming summer to work on Mimosa. And Tommy and I have spoken with someone about the possibility of a workshop for The Girl Who Cried Different later this year.

In the meantime, I’ve started writing a play. It’s called, This is a Play by Lauren Kahane, and it’s inspired by the hellish process of my mom’s move from the house she loves into a senior residence. It’s been a frustrating process, for all of us. Particularly frustrating — in fact incomprehensible for me — is her attachment to objects she didn’t even know she had. Thousands of them. And her unwillingness to let them go, even though she knows she won’t have room for them where she’s going.

As a result of my inability to get rid of her stuff, I go home every day and go through my stuff. Which I then take to Goodwill.

The only thing I know about the play is that, at the end, the character based on me, will have completely emptied her house. She will not have a plate to eat off, a pillow to put her head on, or a change of clothing. And she will be blissfully happy.