I got this great phone call last night from my wife. She was calling from the other side of the country to share with me the news of the stage debut of her musical, "The Souls Of Her Feet." This wasn't a full-on production, but rather a staged reading, in which the actors had a chance to say the lines and sing the songs that have been in her head for so many years now. It was her coming out party. After weeks of preparation, there was a day of rehearsal and then two shows. All of that potential show business became a reality right there in New York City.
I shouldn't have been surprised that she called me so late, since she's hanging out in the City That Never Sleeps. Of course, for the past few weeks that's pretty much been our house as well as she fussed and fretted over the final details and created a cast from one coast to appear on the other. My wish for her was one night of most excellent rest.
Because I know what happens now: rewrites. This is the thing that crushed my own dreams of becoming a screenwriter. I run out of patience with a story or an idea much too quickly to hold something like that together. Once I've told a story, I have a hard time going back and picking at it. I admire anyone with the patience and tenacity to dig in and make a good idea great. There is a great tendency to put something in a drawer and be satisfied that it got that far. The challenge is to keep it out of the drawer and on the desk where it can breathe. Now that it is alive, it's her job to keep it that way. It won't be easy, but I have faith in her. So let's let her have a little rest and a victory lap around the country, then back to work.
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