A Great Big Cloud of Smoke

If anyone from federal law enforcement is reading this, it's purely a work of fiction, and any resemblance to actual musical theatre artists, stoned or not, is purely coincidental.

Now that I got that out of the way.

If you're my Facebook friend, or if you've known me for longer than ten minutes, you know I smoke pot. And I'm very vocal about it. In a weird way, stoners are kind of like gay people thirty years ago (and in some cases, still today) -- in both cases, it's relatively easy to "pass" among civilians. But like gay people, stoners won't get their full rights and respect until they come out of the closet.

Now in fairness, and to mix my metaphors, that ship sailed a loooooong time ago for me.

I first smoked pot in 1986 (thank you, Dave Englehart!), but then smoked only two or three times a year (usually only at cast parties) for a long time. When we did Hair in 2000 and again in 2001, I smoked a ton, but just during those two runs. In 2004, due in large part to the reelection of George W. Bush, I started smoking pot every night and I started writing my musical Johnny Appleweed. Both of them turned out to be extremely therapeutic.

And in writing Johnny Appleweed, with a wise, itinerant stoner as the title character, I really thought a lot about pot, about what it does for me, why I use it, why I like it. Two of the songs I wrote, "Cannabis Dei" and "The Scheme of Things," do a pretty good job of explaining my stoner philosophy.

Here is the slam-esque triologue before "The Scheme of Things" on the video, describing what it's like to be stoned. Of course, your mileage may vary.

My mind had opened, in the truest, deepest sense of the word, and the opening brought with it a remarkable sense of well-being, a kind of healthy, informed apathy that let loose its grip on my neck and shoulders, allowing me a kind of relaxation that I had never felt before. 

That, and my feet felt like sponges. I realized in an instant that the way most people describe being high is all wrong. It doesn’t dull you, it doesn’t shut you down – it re-tunes your frequencies, it re-focuses your brain waves. Stoners can watch television with the sound down, not because they’re too stoned to care, but because they’re no longer watching the program; they’re watching the shapes, the pixels, the lines, the play of shadows, the ever more super-charged commercial graphics rocketing out into the electric of the ozone like Superman in front of a green screen, and those colors… the way blues share something with reds…

And likewise when stoners listen to music, we stop hearing just the melody and the words, and instead we hear inside. The space between, the timbre of the instruments, the pulse of the guitar against the bass, the rise and fall of individual violins inside a group of twelve, the patterns of rhyme and the dance of consonants, the way the pitches begin and then fade away, some faster than others, some never really fading away completely, the color of the notes. And the textures. The way the air moves in front of you to make way for the music.

We stoners experience the world in a way the uninitiated will never even imagine. Certain things just don’t matter anymore, money, career, gadgets, all the accoutrements of status and rabid patriotism, and only when you’re straight again, do you realize that those things didn’t matter when you were baked because they really shouldn’t matter.

The human brain processes four hundred billion pieces of information per second, but we’re only aware of two thousand of them. Marijuana dials down that editing system and opens up the Floodgates of the Mind – like a circle in a spiral, like a meal within a meal.

So now you have your pick of all those amazing, interesting little pieces of information, all those bits and bytes that usually get sorted out without our knowing it. Now the things that are supposed to be important get lost in a sea of everything-ness, no longer gripping our reality quite so tightly, now allowing new things to come swimming along, relegating the “important” things to a small swirling eddy of neuroses just over the horizon, out of sight out of mind.

In short, the holy bud sweeps away from your brain all the bullshit that keeps you from being the happy, thoughtful, engaged person you really are, a fully realized being like Yoda or Gary Busey. And the trivia washes back to shore…

But let's get down to it. There are three reasons I use pot. First, it boosts my creativity by disabling my internal editor, which in turn makes brainstorming far more fruitful. When I'm stoned, ideas come to me (whether I'm writing or figuring out staging) that my unstoned mind would immediately discard as ridiculous. But having access to those more ridiculous ideas often leads me to incredibly funny and/or creative and/or powerful moments. I'll tell you a little secret. I never work out staging anymore without being stoned. 

One side note -- I can't really do anything left-brained when I'm stoned. So I always do "office work" for the day, numbers, correspondence, reports, grants, etc., before I smoke.

The second reason I use pot is medicinal. I get very stressed out by even the most trivial everyday obstacles, delays, hassles, etc. And that stress then turns into physical symptoms, headaches, stiff neck, jaw clenching, stiff back, indigestion. And if I smoke pot at the end of my day, I'm able to let go of all the craziness and trivial ickiness of the day. In my mind I see it like a spaceship expelling its garbage into space. When I describe this process to friends, I call it "taking out the psychic trash." It allows me to not accumulate all that crap to the point of feeling overwhelmed.

And finally, let's be honest, I use pot because IT FEELS GREAT. It makes me mellow, relaxed, content, easily amused, easily engaged, easily distracted. And let me tell you, if you're smoking the good stuff, "couch lock" is a real thing. You sink into a comfortable couch, stoned as shit, and you just don't want to move. You don't even want to lift your hand to use the TV remote. You can, of course, but if you had your druthers, you won't, because that's how utterly comfortable you are. And this, friends, is couch lock. And it's awesome.

And of course, on top of everything else, researchers are constantly finding new medical marvels that pot can achieve, for sufferers from AIDS, cancer, Parkinson's, glaucoma, and lots more. A few years ago, a university study showed that pot smokers have better lung capacity and a lower incidence of lung disease than tobacco smokers and non-smokers. Studies have found recently that pot has some inhibiting effect on cancer cells, but researchers are still trying to figure that out why, how, and how much. (Although I will add this, studies have also shown that when kids use pot before their brains are fully formed around age 25, researchers think that pot might inhibit some brain development.)

At long last, marijuana is escaping its long-held stigma, which was based on a whole intricate fabric of lies and fake stories created back in the 1930s by a creepy guy named Harry Anslinger, to pass strict pot laws in the states in order to get rid of blacks, Latinos, and jazz musicians. It won't be long before it's fully legal. 

I did oceans of research into the hippies of the 1960s when New Line produced Hair and I then wrote a book about the show. Real hippies believed there were good and bad drugs. As I wrote in my book, Let the Sun Shine In, the “good” drugs were mind-expanding, psychedelic drugs like marijuana, peyote, mushrooms, and LSD, that helped them find peace and spirituality (“the mind’s true liberation”). The “bad” drugs were those used only for escape, like alcohol, nicotine, tranquilizers (like valium), cocaine, and heroin. Bad drugs shut you down; good drugs open you up. Bad drugs distort your perception; good drugs expand your perception. I really believe that.

When I smoke pot, God's Goofy Green Goodness unlocks the cage of my rational mind, and lets my creativity and imagination run wild. And when that happens, I create far more interesting work, more surprising, more insightful, more resonant, more impactful. If it's good enough for John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Paul Simon, Allen Ginsberg, Bill Maher, Willie Nelson, and so many others, it's good enough for me.

I often half-joke that our country wouldn't be in such shitty shape if more of us -- especially our leaders -- would smoke a bowl before bed every night. Here's one of my favorite lyrics, "A Great Big Cloud of Smoke," the finale from Johnny Appleweed, about how weed will save America.

I’ve traveled ‘cross America,
And everywhere I sense
All of those seeds I’ve planted bursting forth;
It’s waiting to commence.
It’s morning in America,
But something isn’t right;
The mighty redwoods calling out,
“Does someone have a light?”

There’s a cloud over America,
But not the kind that’s good,
A shroud of fear and ignorance,
Right here where Dylan stood.
We have to burn that cloud away
Before our people choke.
We’ll burn away injustice and
We’ll blow in cleansing smoke.

For a great big cloud of smoke is risin’,
Stand and breathe it in.
Just hold it in your lungs and know
The smoke can help us win.
Yes, that soft, sweet-smelling smoke is comin’,
Rollin’ ‘cross the land,
It’s tellin’ us to take a hit,
Rise up, and take a stand!

It’s our existential clock that’s buzzing,
Shaking us awake.
Reminding us to think about
The liberties we take,
The ways we’ve disconnected
From the lessons we have learned.
But light the torch and feel the flame,
And watch the bastards burn…

For a thick, sweet cloud of smoke is risin’,
Stand and breathe it deep.
Stop listenin’ to the pundits
Like you’re semi-conscious sheep.
Yes, a great green cloud of smoke is brewin’,
Can’t you hear it hummmmmm…?
It’s time to take our country back;
There’s great things yet to come.

Sure, that sweet and silky smoke is sailing,
Right across our skies,
And all we have to do is simply
Open up our eyes.
Yes, a great big cloud of smoke is comin’,
Showin’ us the way.
So get your ass up off the couch,
And raise your voice today!
Have your say!
It’s a bright, new smoky day!

Johnny lives in you,
All the things you’d love to do,
Twice the wisdom, twenty times the fun.
Live like Johnny lives,
Give the gift that always gives,
And don’t believe in everything you read.
And thank the Lord for
Johnny Appleweed.

Now I ask you, could anyone have written that lyric not stoned???

I expect it will be pretty soon that pot will be fully legalized for adults. That will be nice, but I won't hold my breath (see what I did there?).

And until I get my life back and we're able to make theatre again, my pot will be even more medicinal than usual. I need a real-life Johnny Appleweed. Then again, maybe that's me...

Long Live the Musical! And Pot!
Scott

Christmas Will Be a Little More Broadway This Year!

I got the idea around Christmas time last year.

There are a handful of Christmas-themed songs from musicals (and you can hear most of them on the wonderful recording, A Broadway Christmas), but aside from those, the holidays tend to leave Broadway behind for most of us. Well, those of us who don't have Playbill ornaments on our trees (I have a lot). It occurred to me it would be nice to have some Christmas carols for people who love musicals.

I know, I know, that's a really weird, random idea. But no weirder than my last project, a collection of short horror fiction inspired by musicals, Night of the Living Show Tunes. So I let the Christmas carols idea percolate for a while. After the pandemic hit, I returned to my idea, and by now I had some questions I had to answer, in order to go forward. As I write in the notes to my new songbook:

When I started this project, I wasn’t exactly sure what it was going to be. I knew I was going to write new lyrics to traditional Christmas carols, and they would be related to musical theatre. But would they still be Christmas songs or just use that music? Would they all be comic or would some of them be serious? Would I try to write in the style of the original lyrics or consciously violate it?

The answers, it turned out, were all Yes.

So I began work on a piano-vocal songbook, soon called Broadway Musical Christmas Carols. I went for the low-hanging fruit first. What Christmas carol titles obviously lent themselves to a musical theatre joke? That led immediately to "O Little Shop of Bethlehem," "Angel, Tom, and I Are High," "Away In a Mame Tour," and "Shrek, the Herald Angel, Sings."

But soon I also found myself writing more serious lyrics, about the sacred nature of storytelling, the magic of collaboration, the purpose of art, the ritual nature of the theatre, the profound bonds we form during the work, songs like "O Holy Stage," "It Came Upon a Musical," and "Joy to the World (for Musicals)."

Here's a taste, from "Op'ning Night, Holy Night"...

Op‘ning Night, holy night,
Work is done, now we run.
We take part in the making of art,
Ancient rite of the soul and the heart.
Storytelling is sacred;
Storytelling is art.

Holy stage, holy place,
Filled with joy, touched by grace.
Human souls, alone in the night,
Come together to act out this rite.
Storytelling is healing;
Storytelling is art.

Closing Night, sacred night,
What’s begun, now is done.
We made art and we touched the divine,
Greater still when our talents combine.
Storytellers are holy;
Storytelling is art.

And for the history-minded fans like me, there's "These Three Kings," a celebration of George M. Cohan, George Abbott, and Hal Prince; and also "Carol of the Flops," a salute to Broadway's commercial failures; and there's a special tribute to "Jolly Old Steve Sondheim." The hardest one to write, and therefore the most satisfying, is "These Three Kings."

These three kings, no parallels since;
Cohan, Abbott, and Harold Prince;
Sparked a spark, and made their mark,
With fearless irreverence.
O, they made rules that we now use,
So the tales we tell amuse;
Honesty and truth will be
The guiding light we rightly choose.

Of these kings, the one who began;
George M. Cohan, Renaissance Man,
Writer, actor, much compacter,
And so cosmopolitan!
O, short and scrappy patriot,
Star of Broadway, sizzling hot!
Our conventions, his inventions,
We owe him an awful lot.

Mr. Abbott, King Number Two,
Mixed a heady musical brew;
Fast and funny, sweet and sunny,
But showing us what is true.
O, authenticity is key,
Playing people honestly.
Show respect and reconnect
The musical and comedy.

Third of three is King Harold Prince,
From the start, his history hints:
Truly peerless, fully fearless,
And delving in darker tints.
O, Prince and Sondheim, thus combined,
Blew it up and blew our mind.
Mind and heart both play a part,
And share with us the truth they find.

A couple of these songs are really designed for actors to sing before opening night, after closing night, etc., to mark those important moments in our artistic lives -- "Op'ning Night, Holy Night" and "We Wish You a Happy Op'ning." And there's a sincere tribute to the Chorus, with "Here We Come A-Chorusing."

There are a couple of very odd songs here, "I Heard You Screlt on Christmas Day" and "I Saw Threepenny Opera Once," that I just couldn't resist including, because I know High-School-Scott would have found those very funny. I personally love Threepenny, but it is a beast of a show to sit through. And I have to thank New Line Theatre music director Nic Valdez for introducing me to the word screlt (to scream and belt at the same time), around which I felt compelled to build a song. I still giggle when I sing the last line, "But screlting doth displeaseth God."

And then there's the music. I'll quote again from my notes in the songbook.

I knew I wanted to include the vocal music so these songs could actually be performed, and I love all those traditional SATB arrangements that I learned in high school. (I still know those bass lines by heart.) So I started with those original arrangements (including the somewhat different original melody of “Jingle Bells”!), but I also added a little extra harmonic color and complexity here and there, particularly when the same musical phrase repeats itself. I hope you like the balance I struck.

You can use this book several ways. You can have a sing-along, ignore the vocal music, and let everybody just sing off the lyric pages. You can sing my new words to the traditional arrangements you already know. You can sing my four-part arrangements a cappella, with no accompaniment. You can use these vocal arrangements as piano accompaniment, so the songs can be sung solo.

Particularly in this insane, theatre-less world, it may be a really weird holiday season. I hope these songs will bring some extra joy to it for you. It was really wonderful working on them. Like I say in my book, I hope these songs make you laugh and I hope they touch your artsy heart.

Please check it out -- just click here -- if you love musicals, I think you'll love this too.

Long Live the Musical! And Stay Safe!
Scott

P.S. While we're here, I might as well mention my other books...
-- my quiz book, It's a Musical!
-- my collection of short horror fiction, Night of the Living Show Tunes
-- my musical theatre history book, Strike Up the Band
-- my six collections of musical theatre analysis
-- my piano-vocal songbook, The Best Wedding Songs They've Never Heard Before
-- and script, vocal selections, and recordings of some of the shows I've written

Be Careful Not to Lose the Way

We were in the middle of a sold-out, critically acclaimed run of Head Over Heels. It was truly one of the coolest, most original shows we've ever produced. And that's saying a lot!

And halfway through the run, the pandemic hit and the theatres were closed down.

At first, I didn't know what to feel. What could I do with the idea that the only thing I've ever cared about in my life, the thing on my mind literally every waking minute -- the musical theatre -- is now deadly. My whole life's work has been based on people gathering together in a room to share a story. And now, people can't gather in a room. For a long time. Worst of all, we don't know how long.

A theatre friend of mine asked on Facebook what to do when the entire industry you work in disappears. It's all so shatteringly depressing. At first, I couldn't even think about New Line without crying. I couldn't think about the show we had to close. I couldn't think about having to cancel our return to Urinetown in June. I couldn't think of rehearsals, of singing, of laughing, of Grace Langford hugging every single person in the room when she enters. Any of that and I would sit on my couch and sob.

And I soon discovered I also could not watch those beautiful remote group numbers from shows, when dozens of actors perform a song together, but each from home. In a way, those videos are so wonderful, such a vivid illustration of how much we need the arts, and how quickly artsies can adapt. But in a way, these videos are also profoundly sad to me, all these brilliantly talented professionals, and the only way they can make theatre is by themselves in their living room or on their driveway. Those videos make me cry now.

So early on, I called my doctor and he put me on Lexapro (and soon doubled my dose), and it has helped enormously.

But the question remained: What the fuck do we do now?

Some theatre companies did online events, or streamed performances. Dowdy and I did talk about that kind of thing. But that's not theatre. We're a theatre company. Then again, who knows when we can make theatre again?

We have put a tentative plan in place, but everything -- literally, everything -- is up in the air these days, so who knows where we'll land. We've already cancelled our October show, the first local production of Something Rotten. So if we can, we'll move this show to our June 2021 slot, starting rehearsals in early April. Looking ahead, that seems reasonably possible, but again, who knows? If we can't produce it in June, we'll move it to our October 2021 slot, and pray the pandemic will be over by then.

Also if we can, we'll go into rehearsal for Head Over Heels in January, to open in early March 2021. But right now, it doesn't look real likely that it will be safe to rehearse that soon. After all, we can't make a musical with masks and social distancing. If we can't do the show in March 2021, we will do it in March 2022. The Arcadians will return!

We were scheduled to bring back Urinetown in June (we first produced it in 2007), and we also plan to return to that show within a year or two. We'e also decided that if necessary, we could produce Songs for a New World, which has a cast of only four actors, in June 2021.

So if all that isn't confusing enough...  Here's our basic battle plan....

PLAN A
Head Over Heels, March 2021
Something Rotten, June 2021
A new season starting in October 2021

PLAN B-1
Something Rotten, June 2021
Bloody King Oedipus!, October 2021
Head Over Heels, March 2022
Urinetown, June 2022

PLAN B-2
Songs for a New World, June 2021
Something Rotten, October 2021
Head Over Heels, March 2022
Urinetown, June 2022

PLAN C
Something Rotten, October 2021
Head Over Heels, March 2022
Urinetown, June 2022
Bloody King Oedipus!, October 2022

That probably isn't much clearer. Oh well. These are complicated times. The most important thing to know is that, one way or another, New Line will survive this.

Personally, I've had to readjust my thinking so much. Up till now, I've been thinking that the pandemic and resulting hibernation of my art form were this terrible, unfair detour in my life journey, a dastardly pushing of the great cosmic Pause button. Everything became about waiting. But as Passing Strange taught us, "Listening is waiting." I was so wrapped up in what was taken away from me that I missed what was most obvious.

This period of time, however long it lasts, is not a detour on my journey, not a pause. This period of time is part of my journey. This is where I am right now, and for the foreseeable future, this is where I'm going. My road includes all this; it's part of the adventure. As many of our shows have taught us, most notably Zorba, you have to embrace and treasure all of life, not just the good parts, both the yin and the yang, the joyful and the painful, because it's all part of the ride. You have to just throw your arms up, scream, and go for the ride.

Spelling Bee teaches us that "Life is random and unfair. Life is pandemonium." The first time I heard the score, that struck me powerfully. That's not a statement of despair; it's a statement of fact. Unless you believe in an ancient god, you know that Life is random. It doesn't make moral judgments. Shit just happens. To all of us. And if it's random (and believe me, it is), then it can't be "fair." To be fair would imply value judgments are being made. Life truly is pandemonium, and that should be comforting, that there's no great cosmic punishment or reward. Life just is. As Candide says, "We'll do the best we know." That's all we can expect of ourselves.

So here I am on my road. This part of my journey is going to be about writing, and that's okay. I like writing. Since the world turned upside down, I've finished two writing projects.

One is a collection of short horror fiction, inspired by musicals, called Night of the Living Show Tunes: 13 Tales of the Weird. It was huge fun writing it (here's a blog post about the process), and if you like horror and musicals, you'll love this.

My other project, Broadway Musial Christmas Carols, which I'm just about to announce (you're getting a sneak preview!), is a collection of Christmas carols about Broadway musicals and the musical theatre (here's a blog post about my process). I've taken 25 traditional carols, somewhat jazzed up the traditional vocal arrangements and wrote all new lyrics.

Some of the songs include “O Little Shop of Bethlehem,” “God Rest Ye, Mad Thenardiers,” “Away in a Mame Tour,” “I Heard You Screlt On Christmas Day,” “What Squip Is This,” “Here We Come A-Chorusing,” “O Come, All Ye Rent Heads,” “Jolly Old Steve Sondheim,” “Carol of the Flops,” “Shrek, the Herald Angel, Sings,” “O Hamilton,” “O Holy Stage,” and other gems.

Also, Zak Farmer and I have been working on a project together. I've written the text and he's finishing up the illustrations for a book I think musical theatre fans will love. More about that later. And I have a couple other solo writing projects on my docket too.

And meanwhile, my quiz book, It's a Musical!, and my last two analysis books, Literally Anything Goes and Idiots, Heathers, and Squips, are all selling really well! You can check out all my books on my Amazon Author Page.

As long as I talk to my New Liners every day, as long as I don't think about rehearsals and hugs too much, as long as I keep myself busy with writing projects, I'm going to be okay. I've never been more grateful for the company of my cat Hamilton. I keep telling him he's my salvation, but I think it's giving him a big head...

Long Live the Musical! And Stay Safe!
Scott

13 Tales of the Weird

I love musical theatre more than anything else in the world. But I also really love horror. New Line has brought the two together on several occasions, with Night of the Living Dead, Sweeney Todd, The Rocky Horror Show, In the Blood, Lizzie, and The Zombies of Penzance. Depending on your definition, I might include on that list Andrew Lippa's The Wild Party, Love Kills, Sweet Smell of Success, and Assassins.

Even before the pandemic hit, but especially now, I'm always looking for new writing projects. New Line actor Zak Farmer and I are almost done with a Dr. Seuss style book called Shellie Shelby Shares the Spotlight, about a high school girl doing her first musical. I can't wait to share it with you all. Stay tuned.

I can't remember exactly what triggered me, but I got the idea for Night of the Living Show Tunes quite a while ago, a collection of short horror fiction connected to musical theatre. We had done a concert years ago with that title, and I realized it was perfect for this project.

So before going any further with it, I laid out a course of study for myself. I've been reading horror since middle school, but now I was going to study it, see how horror fiction operates. I bought an amazing book called Classic Tales of Horror from Canterbury Classics, a huge volume chock full of classic horror by Bram Stoker, Charles Dickens, H.P. Lovecraft, Washington Irving, Arthur Conan Doyle, Honoré de Balzac, Edith Wharton, Robert Louis Stevenson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edgar Allan Poe, Franz Kafka, Henry James, Ambrose Bierce, Algernon Blackwood, Guy de Maupassant, M.R. James... you get the idea. It was a wild, wonderful, eye-opening ride. Then I read a 2017 collection of all new short horror fiction, by current horror writers. I also started watching lots of anthology horror movies.

Then I turned to the King. Stephen King. New Line's Associate Artistic Director Mike Dowdy-Windsor is a fierce Stephen King fan, so he loaned me all of King's short story collections, a few of which I had already read.

I also read quite a few books about horror, including King's two amazing nonfiction books, Danse Macabre and On Writing. So brilliant, so much fun to read, so helpful!

By now, my original idea had been percolating for a long time. I realized I had several paths to choose, and ultimately, I'd choose all of them. Some of the stories I wrote took some element of a famous musical and redirected it down a darker, weirder road. As one example, my story "Time Steps" starts with a reunion in an old theatre, very much like the beginning of Follies, but in my story, the building and its ghosts begin to fight back.

Another path was to select one thing from the real world and reset it in an unreal world of horror. One example of this is my story "The Flibbertijibbet," set during the original run of a famous Broadway show in 1959. Two of the girls playing children in the show have come to believe the rumors, that their leading lady Mary is actually a vampire. So they decide to find out. Another story is about a demon-possessed keyboard creating havoc -- and injuries -- in the middle of a performance.

The third path was High Concept. One story in my collection, "Requiem for Musical Comedy," is a murder mystery and the deceased is Musical Comedy. And my story "Over Finian's Rainbow" is a story about musicals and race.

Here are the chapter titles:

“Tomorrow, Daddy”
“Nothing More”
“Night of the Festival”
“Scarily We Roll Along”
“Time Steps”
“Requiem for Musical Comedy”
“Happy Birthday, Robert”
“I Had a Dream”
“The Spellbinder”
“A Little Fight Music”
“The Farm Hand!”
“Over Finian’s Rainbow”
“The Flibbertijibbet”

For the last several years I've been fascinated (obsessed?) with the idea of making art from art. It started when I wrote and then we produced The Zombies of Penzance. Of course, many musicals are based on plays, novels, movies, etc., so my beloved musical theatre has a long history of art made from art.

Today, one subgenre of art made from art is the mashup. I love the mashup, the idea of mashing together two things that really don't belong together. Like the images that go around Facebook of the Scooby-Doo gang dressed as the Rocky Horror characters; or one of my favorite examples, the musical Bukowsical, which mashed up the dark, vulgar writing of Charles Bukowski with the bright and cheery form of old-school musical comedy. My own Zombies of Penzance similarly mashed together a Gilbert & Sullivan operetta with George Romero zombie movies. The great masterpiece of the mashup is Todd Haynes' underground film masterpiece, Superstar, using Barbie dolls to tell the story of Karen Carpenter's eating disorder. Watch it and have your mind blown.

For me, Night of the Living Show Tunes is a mashup of my two favorite things, and it was a joy to write it. I hope the stories in my collection are fun for the horror fan who knows nothing about musical theatre, and also fun for the musical theatre fan who isn't into horror. If you're a fan of both, like me, I think the collection will offer you even more dark delights.

N.B.: If gory horror makes you a little queasy, you might want to skip a few of the stories, "Tomorrow, Daddy," "Time Steps," "I Had a Dream," and "The Farm Hand!" None of those are for the faint of heart.

I hope you'll join me for these "13 Tales of the Weird." Just click here! And yes, there will be a second volume. Stay tuned!

Long Live the Musical!
Scott