After They’ve Gone

I began writing After They’ve Gone in 2011, when my younger son was a sophomore at UW-Madison. I had recently become an “emptynester” — an expression I HATE by the way — as had many of my friends. And I knew I had to write about it.

For a myriad of reasons I have no interest in going into, saying goodbye to your last kid is a big deal. Walking past empty bedrooms is a big deal. Regardless of how you feel about it, it’s a huge life change.

And write about it I did. Though I had written Join the Club, After They’ve Gone was my first serious attempt at writing an original full-length musical.

I had the good fortune of working with composer Paul Libman. Paul is a wonderful composer and was a far more experienced musical theater writer than I was. And he did not make things easy for me.

Paul did not automatically set what I sent him. If I sent Paul a lyric he didn’t like, he either wouldn’t set it or pretended he never got it. He often sent me music that needed more words — or fewer words. He told me — often — that something I’d written wasn’t good enough. We also fought about the story and the behavior of the characters.

I learned so much from him. He placed importance on the integrity of the music and its form. He held me to a higher standard of craft. Ultimately, all the pushback resulted in a better show. And we’re still friends.

There were three readings: One at Chicago Dramatists, one at The Porchlight Music Theatre, and one at Princeton University as part of my 35th college reunion.

The show was never produced.

Since Paul and I wrote After They’ve Gone, I’ve gotten my MFA in Musical Theatre Writing from Tisch and written many other musicals. Hopefully, I’ve gotten better.  I’ve also changed over the last 13 years, as has the world. For these reasons, I wouldn’t — couldn’t write the show today.

But I’m proud of it. From a craft standpoint, it’s not bad. The show’s got heart. It speaks the truth. AND, perhaps most importantly, it validates the experience of the millions of women who almost never have their life experience reflected back and validated in a musical written by a woman who’s been through it, too.

With Paul’s permission, I’ve decided to release many of the demos of songs from the show. I mean, why not? It’s so easy to release music now. Maybe someone will hear a song and like it. Who knows?

PS. Here’s why I hate the expression, “Emptynester:”  My house was not only a home for my children. My husband and I live here, too. When my kids left, the house wasn’t empty. And it still isn’t.