How We Learned What We Learned

OR: THE UPS, DOWNS AND IN-BETWEENS OF A NEW MUSICAL STAGED READING FROM A FESTIVAL FIRST-TIMER

Actors perform an Act 1 staged reading of ONCE UPON A CARNIVAL at the 2023 Boston New Works Festival. L to R: Tara (Kira Gandolfo), Usha (Serena Arora), Bhavan (Marshall Romano), Radhika (Sage Gunning) and Sonny-Boy (Joseph Cardozo)

This past June held two of the biggest events of my life so far: I got married to my wonderful, supportive life partner, and I experienced seeing something that I wrote for theatre be performed (beautifully!) by a cast for the very first time. I learned a lot from both, but it took me a little while to process everything — probably because they both happened on THE SAME WEEKEND. Not ideal, especially for my stress levels.

Lesson learned: If you can avoid it, don’t open a new musical-in-progress a day before your actual wedding .

Before you ask: we couldn’t really avoid it, unless we turned down the opportunity entirely. My co-writer Brianna and I initially applied to the Boston New Works Festival not knowing that the dates would overlap with my wedding. By the time we were offered the spot and learned of the festival dates, James’ and my Save-the-Dates had already long been mailed out, flights and hotels were already booked and security deposits had been deposited. So, in the immortal words of television fashion icon Tim Gunn, we made it work. (Did I mention that my husband is extremely supportive? )

Anyway, despite all of the stress and pressure, I’m really glad we didn’t pass up the opportunity to have Act 1 of our new musical-in-progress, ONCE UPON A CARNIVAL, showcased at that festival. I can’t fully describe to you how validating of an experience it was for me as both a songwriter and storyteller, to have a bunch of talented people be excited and dedicated in their performance of our work as first-time musical theatre writers, and to have a highly regarded theatre company invest time, money and resources in that work before it was even finished being written.

So yes, if I could go back and do it all again, I would — but I would definitely take some lessons learned with me. Given that the lesson I already shared isn’t exactly universal (or applicable in any of my own future situations), here are four other takeaways I’ll be carrying with me the next time I get the opportunity to showcase this or any other new work.

• LESSON #1: Communication is everything. Don't be afraid to ask questions, and ask them early and often.

  I let my self-consciousness as a first-time musical theatre writer get the better of me here. If I could go back, I would definitely prioritize getting all of the information I needed over seeming like I knew what’s what and not wanting to be a nuisance. I made a lot of assumptions through the process of putting up the Act 1 staged reading because I felt weird about questioning people who I saw as more experienced than me. But the thing is: there are times where as a writer, you know your show and what it needs better than just about anyone else. In the future, if it feels like a particular decision is not serving the story or intent of the show well, I’ll be more forward about communicating that. I’ve learned that I’d rather be honest about being a little green to the whole process and share the things that I’m nervous or unsure about if there’s a chance it will be for the better of the show.

• LESSON #2: Musical theatre is inherently collaborative, especially in a new work. Lean into that.

  One of the things that delighted me the most about this experience was that it gave me the opportunity to pull together old friends and new ones to create something truly special together. If I get to do it again, I will work hard to reach out to potential collaborators earlier in the process and get them involved even in the messy stages, rather than trying to carry the mundane and overwhelming tasks by myself. For example, our director Shania offered to help with social media posts leading up to the show open; I should have taken her up on that. And even though I had started the casting outreach and communication process before we had a director or stage manager on board, it probably would have been smoother had I handed that task over completely as soon as they joined the team.

  I’d also be less shy about talking about my work and share collaboration opportunities with people already in or connected to my network first. (In other words, Harrison was a godsend as a music director and arranger, and my only regret there was not reaching out to him on Instagram sooner.)

• LESSON #3: Try to finish writing the piece BEFORE you get into the rehearsal room.

  This one seems obvious now, but it didn’t necessarily then. I liked the idea of being able to continuously build the show as we went, and as someone with ADHD, the deadline pressure was helpful for me at times to push past my perfectionist tendencies and actually, you know, write the damn thing. But I know it put an incredible amount of stress on my co-writer, the creative team, the cast, and my poor brain. True story: I literally handed the second-to-last song over just a couple days before show week — not a rewrite or anything, but a brand new (and somewhat complicated) song and scene. Bless everyone who took that challenge on without so much as a complaint….but I hope to never do that again.

  Another reason why I would finish the entire act/show before rehearsals start is that I think it would’ve made it easier for me to distinguish what needs to happen right now vs. what can be revisited in a future iteration. Writing and putting up a new original musical on deadline is both a sprint AND a marathon, and in a few instances I confused one for the other — for example, prioritizing creating a social media promotion plan over finishing a lead sheet. I ended up not even being able to execute most of those social media promos, which we didn’t really need for this reading. But we definitely could’ve used that lead sheet earlier.

• LESSON #4: Seek feedback proactively...but always consider the source.

  This was a tough lesson. I’m a huge proponent of seeking out feedback early and often from a variety of different sources (other writers, performers, musicians, culture bearers and audience members). But one thing I learned is that it’s important to consider who you’re asking for feedback from and what relationship they have to the content and execution of your show. There’s little point in getting feedback on song structure from someone with zero background in music or songwriting, just as there is little point in receiving feedback on perceived authenticity from a person with no relationship to the culture or situation you’re writing about.

  Related, the other thing I won’t do again, at least not in such an early stage of development, is solicit anonymous feedback. Among some very helpful audience comments and insights, we got one piece of feedback from an anonymous source that was so unhelpful as to nearly derail me from writing for several months after the festival. I wracked my brain trying to think of how I could’ve done better, how I could’ve made this person happy, before I realized that I was never going to get a satisfying answer to that question. This is partially because, hey — not everyone is going to like your show. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still write it. But it’s also partially because I had no sense of what perspective they were coming at it from, and no way to follow up with them to ask. When a show is still being developed, it is like your brain’s newborn baby, with its delicate constitution and tender, soft head. You wouldn’t hand a newborn over to a complete stranger for even a minute, right?
  
  I still believe in seeking feedback from different places early and often. But in the future, I’ll consider the source, ask questions specific to that source, and be a little more careful about who I hand my brain-baby over to (at least while it’s still growing up).