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