the birth of a play

and why being a playwright is a curse

The birth of a play means everything to a playwright. The birth of a play means absolutely nothing to theatre as a whole.

Which is why I've been playwriting for almost a decade and have not snagged that elusive first production. I submit again and again, have been a runner-up again and again, wondered when it's my turn again and again, only to be disappointed by the inevitable.

I have quit more times than I can count simply because it feels like my voice doesn't matter.

Until now.

In the Winter of 2020, I conceived of The Sporting Life.

I was walking around Meijer, a common post pandemic onset activity, and needed something new and juicy to listen to instead of my same rotation of the first three Led Zeppelin albums.

That album was The Sporting Life, a collaboration between John Paul Jones and Diamanda Galas from 1994.

I turned on the top track from the album, "Do You Take This Man?", and my jaw dropped.

Harrowing, juicy, unrelenting. This album became a fixation for me.

So much so I decided I had to write a play inspired by it.

You can read about that journey here.

The pandemic was an artistic rebirth for me which is why this play, conceived as a dark comedy femme slasher, took three (3!!!) separate developmental processes at three (3!!!) different companies.

First, I tried to navigate the play in the Jackalope Theatre Playwrighting Lab. Then took it to The New Coordinates for one of their final Writer's Rooms before they decided to disband. And finally, it made it's way to The Road Theatre company in Los Angeles. For nearly a year, I spent Zoom call after Zoom call with my cohorts, reading, dissecting, and celebrating their work.

When it was finally my turn to share the first act of my play, it was 90 pages. For those of you not in the theatre world, 90 pages for a first act is a crazy ask.

But there was a reason it started so long.

I was still clinging to my way of writing before the pandemic. Hyperrealist, kitchen sink drama, where every question is asked, answered, and explained.

As I worked on this play, I was also working on my romance ghostwriting career.

That’s when something shifted.

Romance ghostwriting requires writing to a word count and because of that, stuff gets left out. Frequently. There just isn't time, just isn't any room.

So I learned the art of succinctness. And the art of allowing the audience to have questions they had to answer themselves.

I made magic systems that went unquestioned, deaths that were improbable, a timeline that rode, expecting you to catch up.

I went from real to surreal.

By the time November of 2022 rolled around and the full first draft of The Sporting Left was read it was 90 pages. Total. No first act, no intermission. 90 pages, stem to stern.

And I knew I'd unlocked something.

Over the next two years, The Sporting Life had readings across the country. LA, New York, Chicago, and Waco. It was a semi-finalist and honorable mention for prestigious awards. And more times than I can count I was asked this question:

How has this play not had a production yet?

That question is the biggest compliment and biggest devastation. Because on repeat, I had been told how wonderful this play was. How inspiring, how timely, how necessary. But at the same time, it was too gory and difficult to produce for companies to take a risk.

However, there was an emotional risk in it too. To see women be violent toward men on stage. Unrepentantly. Joyfully.

I wondered when a company would get the courage.

And then, I got an email in the cold, early months of 2025 from a company in my own city, The Factory Theater.

They wanted it. Wanted to be the company to launch the world premiere of this timely, violent, devastating play.

I had become acquainted with The Factory the year before, having friends involved and wanting to support. It is not an often occurrence that the theatres you choose to support want to support you back. But The Factory did.

Which meant that at the end of May, I got to announce that The Sporting Life will finally have it's world premiere in the Fall of 2025 in my very own goddamn city, supported by a host of people I love.

The birth of a play is not a promise. It is at first a curse, just as Dot from The Sporting Life wonders if being a woman is a curse.

A curse of self-effacement and doubt. Of superiority and inferiority complexes. Of no shame and all the shame at once.

The birth of a play is not always celebrated.

But today, I get to celebrate that The Sporting Life was born. And I'm not the only guest at the party.

In Love and Deadlines, I explore the rage and joy of being a woman, the truth in contradiction, and the profound hidden in the pedestrian. If this piece resonated with you, tap the heart below. If you want it to resonate with others, consider restacking or sharing with your friends. And if you’d like to support my work further, the best way is by becoming a subscriber.

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