to pick me up, so I call Karl and we talk and he makes me feel better. He always does that. I'm actually on the verge of telling him all about Cynthia Pirelli and the cast list and what a crappy week it's been when he gets paged to go deliver a baby.
Cameron picks me up last, and we settle down for a production meeting as he pulls onto the interstate. I don't say anything about the script, because I don't want a repeat of yesterday. There is just this unspoken agreement that there will be a script and we will find a way to produce it. In the absence of a title, story, or concept, we refer to this groundbreaking piece of theatre simply as "it."
"I've been asking around very quietly," says Elliot, "and I've already found a dozen actors who would be willing to be in it. And for each one of them there are two or three more I haven't talked to yet."
"I've got a crew recruited from people who aren't working on Dolly, " says Suzanne. I'm starting to feel a little guilty that I didn't work on the script last night, with all these people now standing by to produce my work.
"So we have a cast and crew," says Cameron. "What else do we need?"
"Well," says Suzanne, pulling out a notebook. "I've been crunching some numbers. It's mostly guesswork, of course, because I don't know exactly what our technical requirements will be, but it's a ballpark."
"What's a ballpark?" says Cameron.
"The budget," says Suzanne.
I don't think it had occurred to any of the rest of us that we would need actual money to put on a show. I mean, we have talent, enthusiasm, and manpower -- that was enough for Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney, wasn't it?
"First of all, we need a space. Rehearsing and performing in the same space would be ideal, but probably not practical, so I'm assuming we can do early rehearsals in a classroom or someplace free before we move into the rented space."
"Rented?" says Elliot.
"They don't give out theatre space for free," says Suzanne. "Now, I'm assuming a small budget for costumes, but we'll need some money for sets, and even if I can boost a few things from school we'll need to rent some lighting and sound equipment. Then there's printing costs for sheet music, programs, tickets, advertising -- "
"How much are we talking about?" asks Cameron.
"You want to be better than Dolly, right?" says Suzanne.
"Damn right," I say.
"I figure five thousand is a pretty reasonable budget."
"Five thousand dollars!" says Cameron.
"Did you think theatre was free?" says Suzanne.
"But we don't have five thousand dollars," I say. "We don't have five hundred dollars."
"What if we perform outdoors during the day? Like Shakespeare did," says Elliot. "That would cut out a lot of expense."
"Is that really what you want?" asks Suzanne.
"No!" we all three respond together.
"So where are we going to get five thousand dollars?" I say.
"Bake sale?" says Cameron.
"That would be one serious bake sale," I say.
"Car wash?" says Cameron.
"We raise the money the same way they do in the real world," says Elliot.
"How's that?" I ask.
"First we do everything we can to cut the budget, and I've got a few ideas about that."
"And then?" says Suzanne.
"Then we look for investors," says Elliot.
"And where are you going to find investors for an amateur unauthorized production of a show that hasn't been written yet by a high school student no one has ever heard of?" I ask.
"Leave that to me," says Elliot, and suddenly the conversation is over and we're sitting there in silence, watching the guardrail tick by.
"I can't wait until eight o'clock," says Cameron.
"What happens at eight o'clock?" I ask.
"Hello!" says Cameron. "Wicked!"
"Well, sorry I don't know the show as well as you do," I say. "Which number is a half hour in?"
"What do you mean a half hour in?" says Cameron.
"You said you couldn't wait until eight o'clock, and the show starts at seven-thirty, so I just wondered -- "
"The show starts at seven-thirty?" screams Cameron.
"Yeah," I say.
Cameron picks me up last, and we settle down for a production meeting as he pulls onto the interstate. I don't say anything about the script, because I don't want a repeat of yesterday. There is just this unspoken agreement that there will be a script and we will find a way to produce it. In the absence of a title, story, or concept, we refer to this groundbreaking piece of theatre simply as "it."
"I've been asking around very quietly," says Elliot, "and I've already found a dozen actors who would be willing to be in it. And for each one of them there are two or three more I haven't talked to yet."
"I've got a crew recruited from people who aren't working on Dolly, " says Suzanne. I'm starting to feel a little guilty that I didn't work on the script last night, with all these people now standing by to produce my work.
"So we have a cast and crew," says Cameron. "What else do we need?"
"Well," says Suzanne, pulling out a notebook. "I've been crunching some numbers. It's mostly guesswork, of course, because I don't know exactly what our technical requirements will be, but it's a ballpark."
"What's a ballpark?" says Cameron.
"The budget," says Suzanne.
I don't think it had occurred to any of the rest of us that we would need actual money to put on a show. I mean, we have talent, enthusiasm, and manpower -- that was enough for Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney, wasn't it?
"First of all, we need a space. Rehearsing and performing in the same space would be ideal, but probably not practical, so I'm assuming we can do early rehearsals in a classroom or someplace free before we move into the rented space."
"Rented?" says Elliot.
"They don't give out theatre space for free," says Suzanne. "Now, I'm assuming a small budget for costumes, but we'll need some money for sets, and even if I can boost a few things from school we'll need to rent some lighting and sound equipment. Then there's printing costs for sheet music, programs, tickets, advertising -- "
"How much are we talking about?" asks Cameron.
"You want to be better than Dolly, right?" says Suzanne.
"Damn right," I say.
"I figure five thousand is a pretty reasonable budget."
"Five thousand dollars!" says Cameron.
"Did you think theatre was free?" says Suzanne.
"But we don't have five thousand dollars," I say. "We don't have five hundred dollars."
"What if we perform outdoors during the day? Like Shakespeare did," says Elliot. "That would cut out a lot of expense."
"Is that really what you want?" asks Suzanne.
"No!" we all three respond together.
"So where are we going to get five thousand dollars?" I say.
"Bake sale?" says Cameron.
"That would be one serious bake sale," I say.
"Car wash?" says Cameron.
"We raise the money the same way they do in the real world," says Elliot.
"How's that?" I ask.
"First we do everything we can to cut the budget, and I've got a few ideas about that."
"And then?" says Suzanne.
"Then we look for investors," says Elliot.
"And where are you going to find investors for an amateur unauthorized production of a show that hasn't been written yet by a high school student no one has ever heard of?" I ask.
"Leave that to me," says Elliot, and suddenly the conversation is over and we're sitting there in silence, watching the guardrail tick by.
"I can't wait until eight o'clock," says Cameron.
"What happens at eight o'clock?" I ask.
"Hello!" says Cameron. "Wicked!"
"Well, sorry I don't know the show as well as you do," I say. "Which number is a half hour in?"
"What do you mean a half hour in?" says Cameron.
"You said you couldn't wait until eight o'clock, and the show starts at seven-thirty, so I just wondered -- "
"The show starts at seven-thirty?" screams Cameron.
"Yeah," I say.
Similar Books
The Best of Connie Willis
Connie Willis
The System
Gemma Malley
Give Us a Kiss: A Novel
Daniel Woodrell
The Memory Book
Rowan Coleman
Between Love & Fire (Backstage #1)
Dani René
Remembered
E. D. Brady
Friends and Lovers
Joan Smith
The Vampire-Alien Chronicles
Ronald Wintrick
It's All About Him
Colette Caddle
A Very Private Plot
William F. Buckley