Letting go

Here’s a FQ that became a WP (whole post).

It’s from Teri Mueller McGuinness, who asks:

How do you deal with letting go? You write a book, your words are there forever and ever exactly as you wrote them. You write a TV show or movie, and your work is interpreted by OTHER people's work, but at least you get to see the final product. You write a play, and you hand it over to strangers in faraway places and you may never know how they represented you. Seems creepy to me, but then I am a control freak. Have you ever written a script and then seen the final TV/movie/play production, and thought "Well, THAT'S not what I intended"?

It’s a Faustian contract when you write for the stage or screen (big or little or now 2”). On the one hand it’s glorious to hear your words come to life, and for me there is no greater sound than an audience exploding into laughter over something I wrote. Or seeing a tear or two in their eyes over something dramatic I wrote.

But on the other, it’s very disheartening to hear miscast actors trample my work. Or suffer through horrible directors who have no idea what they’re doing.  Every playwright and screenwriter who ever lived has the same complaint. 

And I have to admit I’m a little spoiled because for years my material was being delivered by the likes of Tom Hanks, Ted Danson, David Hyde Pierce, Mary Tyler Moore, and so many gifted actors.

The ideal situation is being able to control the production myself.  To either direct it myself or hire someone I trust.  And be intimately involved in the casting.   I've been lucky in that for my full-length plays produced in Los Angeles, that is what I've had.  

I’ve seen productions of my plays in regional theatres and I have to say some of them have really done a terrific job. Especially with my full-lengths. And some of the acting has been excellent. In one case I told the actress to get her ass to New York or LA. She was exceptional.

There are times, however, when it feels like WAITING FOR GUFFMAN. Sooooo off and soooo miscast that I wanted to pass out copies of the script and say, “Here. Read this instead. Seriously. It’s a comedy.”   Again, this echoes the sentiment of every playwright and screenwriter who ever lived. 

Sometimes you really have to let go. I’ve had plays done in foreign countries translated into other languages. I have no idea what they ultimately looked like and probably wouldn’t even if I saw them.

Still, it’s well worth it all. Considering how many people write plays and submit plays, to be fortunate enough to have theatres want to produce mine is something I’m forever grateful for. In many cases, especially with the ten-minute plays, everyone involved is donating their time and talent. It’s one thing if someone is getting paid to perform my nonsense, but to do it for free – I’m in their debt. It’s also why I never ask them to appear nude or do dangerous stunts.

TOMORROW:  My open letter to directors doing my plays.

from By Ken Levine