Rejection Roundup: November
+ some musings on the ethereal nature of theater
Well, everyone, we’ve done it.
We’ve made it to the final month of the year.
I’m always surprised when December comes around. It feels so far away in January, the promise of the year stretching forward like a horizon with no end and yet here we are, at the inevitable end of a wild, wild year. I’ll be a lot more reflective a little later this month but before we get to November’s rejections, I wanted to share a moment from a few weeks ago that reminded me how fleeting theater truly is.
November was a mess of a month (complimentary). I wrapped up my advanced novel writing class, continued teaching my playwriting class, had a really wonderful and successful public reading with Good Apples Collective, hosted an epic Thanksgiving and traveled both to Florida to spend time with my parents and, most excitingly, to Clarksville, Tennessee to see the first production of my College Collaboration Commission play, We’re Okay, We’re Okay, We’re All Gonna Be Okay at Austin Peay University.
I also spent about three weeks of the month sick with a variety of colds, one of which completely took away my voice like I was frickin’ Ariel in The Little Mermaid.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad – I was able to squeak out enough sound to successfully teach a 2.5 hour masterclass – but I definitely didn’t sound like anyone I recognized.
I lost my voice the moment we landed in Tennessee. My voice had been fine before I got on the plane but between landing and the one-hour drive from Nashville to Clarksville, it slowly started to disappear. By the time we arrived at Austin Peay, I sounded like my great-aunt Connie, infamous for chain-smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey.
Luckily, aside from my voice sounding wild, I had no other symptoms so I was able to attend that evening’s dress rehearsal.
Opening Night was the next evening. It had all the energy of an Opening Night – excitement buzzing through the very full crowd, talk of a lobby reception to happen right after.
We all took our seats, the lights dimmed, the play began and everything was going great until -
the fire alarm went off.
The theater staff and faculty were amazing, immediately leaping into action and we were quickly evacuated and even more quickly informed that there was no fire or imminent danger, which was a relief. The fire department came as we stood outside, waiting, students giggling with the adrenaline of the disruption. The alarm was silenced, we all applauded and made our way back into the lobby
because the show must go on, right?
Except it couldn’t.
Due to a technical issue, Opening Night had to be postponed to the next.
And I would not be able to stay to see it.
The actors took the disappointment of their Opening Night going awry like champs. Seriously, there are actors outside of school settings who I know would have taken such a disappointment much, much harder. They’re incredible professionals already, these actors, and I know that they’re going to have huge careers in front of them.
I saw something more special than Opening Night.
I got to experience that dress rehearsal.
I sat in the second row of a mostly empty theater, watching my play become their play.
The actors, director and designers all showing me what I had written, making it their own.
And as much as I would have loved to experience the play along with a full audience, it was a gift to experience it alone.
If Opening Night had gone as planned, I might have taken that performance for granted. But because it was all I had, it became the pinpoint of my memory of the piece – and it made it something much more special.
Afterwards, I was able to meet the cast, both the principles and their understudies, and we chatted for at least a half hour on the stairs of the theater. Well, they chatted, I did a lot of aggressive head nodding since my voice was gone. I won’t share what was said – that’s for me – but it was something I’ll keep in my heart, always.
And that’s what I realized as I traveled home, knowing that a play of mine would be going on without me there to witness it. It’s not the end result of the production which makes theater a sacred art, but the people who give it life. Getting to know them. Getting to hear from them. And getting to see their hearts in a piece that contains so much of my own.
That’s what makes theater special.
And that’s the stuff that sticks.
The experience reminded me of what we already know whenever we make theater – it is an artform of the present tense. Each production, a small miracle. Even as it happens, it disappears and there is no way to get it back. Even within the same production, we can’t exactly replicate a performance. It will always be different and it will always be something that cannot be saved.
And that is the beautiful thing about theater, I think.
The fact that it is smoke. A small reflection of life.
And when we are lucky, we get to experience it together.
Without further ado, here is this month’s Rejection Roundup!
Thanks so much for being with me for another Rejection Roundup. Only one more left for the year - that you’ll all receive fresh and early on January 1st!
Before you go -
Dramaturgical one-on-ones are now OPEN for December! I have DOUBLE the slots this month (though they’re booking up fast!) and would love to work with you. Getting a play ready for grad school applications? Racing to finish a draft to keep that new year’s resolution? Or just eager to have another pair of eyes on your play? E-mail me at ginafemiasecondemail@gmail.com so we can work together.
I added the latest draft of THAT TIME TERRI AND LILY TOOK A ROAD TRIP TO SEE THE LAURA INGALLS WILDER HOUSE to New Play Exchange. It’s available to read, as long as you have a subscription.
MERCUTIO LOVES ROMEO LOVES JULIET LOVES and The Virtuous Fall of the Girls From Our Lady of Sorrows are available to be purchased and licensed from Original Works Production! Exciting news - I’ve already earned out my advance for MERCUTIO! Thank you to everyone who has purchased a copy. Let’s make the same happen for Virtuous Fall! And please consider licensing these plays as part of your upcoming theater season.
Thank you for being a supporter of The Rejected Writer! Be on the lookout for a Year in Review, happening a bit later this month, with the full 2025 stats coming out in January of next year.
Until then, protect your heart - and your art.