The Club

Cliques are a normal part of everyday life. They can be found in organizations of every size, shape and affiliation. Institutions, groups and gatherings often share the same pedigree. Back in the day, it was sandlot baseball and who got chosen to be on which team. In high school and college, it was those thinly veiled popularity contests within clubs and classes. It was any collection of the ‘in people’ who felt they were above the rest of us peons. We all knew who they were and so did they.

I guess the common denominator among those club members was their like-mindedness to the exclusion of everyone else. After sixteen years of academic game-playing, I thought I was done with that narrow-minded, sometimes contrived notion that their way was the only way. But I was wrong. They say that education, politics and the arts all seem to favor the ‘chosen ones’ above the rest of us. In other words, politics rules the roost. Certainly, the gatekeepers in those fields feel that way.

In my ongoing search for new venues and markets for my plays and novels, I keep running into private clubs that masqueraded as theatrical venues, writing groups, neighborhood organizations and the like. It’s almost as if I’m back in high school and once again I’m on the outside, looking in. But even at this stage of my life, I’m still not willing to do anything to be on ‘the inside’ like all the popular kids in school. In other words, most of the time I’m not willing to ‘play their game.’

One way to get around or combat this silliness is to know who the real players are and to ask myself if I’m willing to play ball with them. It’s analyzing ‘stated’ objectives and goals as opposed to the real objectives and goals. Then it’s deciding just how far I want to go to reach my own objectives.

 I was once told that making changes in the world of education is like steering the Queen Mary. It is nearly impossible unless all or most of the university’s colleges, departments, and faculty committees collectively buy into the changes. I don’t think it is much different with these aforementioned theatrical clubs and venues.

Like the TSA agent at the airport who controls your life in the security line for a brief period, usually the artistic directors hold the reins of their venue. It’s their turf, their kingdom and their domain. You’re only passing through unless you’re already a part of the club.

Boards and committees aside, the Program Chair, Artistic Director, or Director decide which plays get produced and whose theatrical work they will herald. This is their ‘real world’ where they reign supreme. Outsiders are simply interlopers who may or may not be welcomed into the club. Some are honest about it and upfront as to their taste in material. Others feign interest in new material but have already decided what meets their standards and critical best.

I had another turn down recently. But this one was different. Usually it’s the absence of a response to my inquiry that broadcasts loudly and clearly little interest in my work. I never get to find out why I wasn’t admitted into the club. This latest rejection came from a large senior living complex where their Performing Arts group puts on a play or two each year.

I had corresponded for several months with their VP of plays. She seemed very interested in meeting me and reading my scripts.  I felt confident I had a couple of plays that would meet their theatrical standards and would be a fun evening out for their residents.  We met over coffee. The meeting went well and she invited me to send her some scripts which I did that evening. Overall, it looked very promising.

The Vice President of Programming thought differently. She turned down both plays flat. When I asked for an explanation she didn’t hold back. I appreciated that. She was honest and clear about what she liked and didn’t like. She was firm but professional and she treated me with respect.

She certainly felt her reasons were sufficient to reject my plays. I personally thought her reasoning was a bit askew but that didn’t matter. She held the ball and it was her ball game. Now I know what she is looking for and might have something for her in the future. Or not.

I fear she is perhaps looking for that ‘find of the century’ in terms of theatrical entertainment. Some new approach to the theater that would make her a somebody in her tiny theatrical world. Never the less, she was honest and forthright unlike a lot of her counterparts.

I had a boss once who loved to exclaim: “If you take the money and the title, you should do the job.” She did and I respect her for that.

So my quest goes on every time I approach some gatekeeper about my plays. Hopefully, I’ve done my homework upfront. I should know what their audience makeup is like, what kind of plays they’re performing and how they see themselves in the wild and woolly, crazy and confusing world of community theater and art houses.

I’m trying to learn the game as much as I can as even it swirls and changes direction all around me. There are the ever-current trends and philosophies, financial considerations, political gamesmanship and the ever-present theatrical intrigue that permeates this business.

And I thought television was a crazy business.

Ghosting is Another Word for...

You can fill in the rest of the sentence yourself. Some folks see it as an easy way out. But in fact, it is short- sighted, mean-spirited and doesn’t meet the standards of a confident person.

Over the years, I’ve had a few friendships that started out promising enough but then the other party decided to end it with a series of excuses that finally convinced me that we were no longer salon companions. It wasn’t an honest way of ending our friendship/relationship but at least I (finally) got the point.

Breaking up is never easy to do. In the past most folks had the courtesy to speak their mind face to face or by the telephone. Nowadays some people have taken to ghosting. I guess it’s easier and requires less conscience then the old fashion way of owning up to reality and taking the honest way out.

I first heard of ghosting when Charlize Theron dumped her then boyfriend Sean Penn by simply disappearing from his life. Apparently it’s rampant among millennials too. Statistics show that nearly 80% of millennials have experienced it. Along with new age Tinder and Snapchat, ghosting comes with the territory.  It’s one of the paradoxes of this new fast-paced digital culture.

Centuries ago in another time and place, it was rough when my high school girlfriend broke up with me. I remember her gentle sentences were laced with the standard catch phrases like “we should date other people” and “we can still be friends.” But even then, at the height of my immaturity, I could sense her honesty and willingness to face our future and conclude there was nothing there. It was high school and the whole process of ending a relationship was new to both of us.

Beacon Hill

When my college girlfriend broke up with me atop Beacon Hill it was a straightforward surgical cut. “It’s time for both of us to move on with our lives and the best of luck to you.” The breakup was short, clean, and honest, nothing like the ghost busters of today.

Ghosting happened to me several times this summer and yet it’s always a surprise when it does. If I were polite I’d agree with the argument that folks who take to ghosting are simply avoiders. They probably avoid any kind of confrontation at all costs. They certainly don’t want to deal with their own uncomfortable feelings. A quote I read says it all: ‘The emotional maturity that comes with giving the person you’re dealing with an ounce of common courtesy is not in their emotional vocabulary or repertoire.’ Well spoken.

Since I’ve started spending more time out west that old ghost of relationships gone south has raised its familiar head again. I’m always seeking out opportunities where I can use my writing or speaking skills. Some proposals have been met with silence while others are warmly embraced if the details can be worked out…at least at first. Then the ghosting happens.

It’s been nothing as dramatic as a termination of employment or cancellation of a contract. The folks I was dealing with simply refused to answer my e-mails inquiring about my play offerings. Their venues have done some great work and it would have been wonderful to work with them. Yet for reasons still unknown, they decided otherwise.

Before this most recent incident, another out of town venue had requested several of my plays to review. I heard nothing back and inquired several times as to their status. Again, it was easier for that group to pretend I didn’t exist rather than send me a simple ‘not interested’ e-mail. People are strange.

My theory is that a confident director or artistic director isn’t intimidated by a playwright in their midst. Both playwright and director know who is in charge and ultimately who makes the creative decisions surrounding the play in question. Yet it seems to me that part of their job is to communicate their decision and if that includes rejecting a play then the playwright deserves the courtesy of being told just that.

“It’s so Hollywood,” my Palm Springs friends have told me even as I tried to explain that some of these past ventures were with Minnesota folks. “Minnesota Nice” and all that I argued but to no avail. Perhaps they’ve taken the refrain that my old boss used to recite whenever given the chance. “It’s just business” he said when he fired me. He got canned six months later and I’ve always wonder if he thought of that trite phrase when it happened to him.

Of course, there are a dozen reasons why partnerships, joint ventures and other assorted collaborations come to an end. Members of the proposed venture may have changed their mind about their goals and objectives. Perhaps this particular venture no longer fit their criteria. There could have been a time shift or time crunch for future productions. Their production objectives may have changed and no longer fit my qualifications. They might be trapped inside their own paradigms of what theater is supposed to look like. Or simply stated, I didn’t make the cut. The possible reasons are many and varied and probably legitimate. Any and all were probably sound reasons for ending (what I thought was) a budding artistic relationship.

Perhaps it was a good lesson for me. People with no spine always try to dodge the bullet but usually shoot themselves in the foot or blame the other party for their predicament. If they didn’t have the courage to tell me face to face that ‘it was over’, I doubt our joint ventures would have ended well.

They’re like the little old man behind the curtain in ‘The Wizard of Oz.’ I’d like to call them cowards behind the curtain but perhaps I missed their motivation for not responding. Either way, it was still ghosting.

At least my old girlfriends (bless their hearts) had more class than that.