I am rubbish at corporate strategy. May it be because I am a bit naive, or really just a coward, I just cannot keep my mouth shut. So, instead of blaming myself for it, I try and put it under a better light and call it “transparency”.
It is never easy to face rejection, in whatever form it may come. But when honest feedback is received, you have a solid base to build the next step upon. What I am trying to say here is, if you have got to do it – and chances are you will have to, eventually – do it like Dom.
Dom didn’t want to do it via email, or rushing out after class. Dom didn’t want to do it standing in a noisy pub either, but he chose the best option of the three and we ended up finding chairs, eventually. The time has come for me to say that by “do it” I mean “saying no”, not… you know. Baby-making. Anyway.
Because Dom knows that rejection is rejection and Dom wanted to make sure I would be okay. Dom said no because he did not feel the play “his”, and I understand and respect that, and as a result it didn’t feel that bad. Dom said it graciously and earnestly and dedicated his time to provide very complimenting feedback about the play per se and we discussed the pro and cons of the theatre I have chosen – I know, I know, stay tuned!! – as well as the sort of approach I should employ towards this project. Am I satisfying a caprice or am I intentionally building a theatre empire? Is it a mixture of the two? What does it take to achieve the best possible outcome, once I have decided the scale of my enterprise?
There and then the world crumbled a bit for about 10 minutes, because I was feeling scared and stuck and frozen, without a director. But something somewhere in my body, as I was referring to last week, clicked, and steadily pointed at Katharina Kastening.
Katharina is a brilliant student, a RADA buddy. She is sweet and stern and she threw an awesome New Year’s Eve party at her place, for what I can remember. And isn’t it nice when they say “*whatever* on New Year’s Day, *whatever* all year long” and the person you have spent New Year’s Day with (also throwing up in her bathroom, soz) ends up directing your first play?
Kat and I did the same directing course at RADA (yes, I will keep saying RADA, endlessly) together with another key member of our little project – stay tuned, stay tuned!! – and she expressed the desire to start directing new writing. Watching her direct as well as listening to her experience working for a big production had started a little tingling in my ear, encouraged by the feedback of that another-key-member-of-our-little-project given over the nth glass of whiskey (yes, we all drink quite a lot when the occasion comes) on that very important Thursday night, last week.
The following day I walk into the same pub we were in the night before, hungover and tired, clasping at my script. They are all there, my RADA peeps, after a morning plenary session I have missed. And it is really cute to see how three quarters of us have the same flu symptoms combined with a massive hangover, because we all sweat and sing and dance in the same room and then we all get drunk together. I put a hand on Kat’s shoulder, I hand her the script and I simply ask:
“Will you do me a favour and read this? And let me know?”
I do not say what exactly she would have to let me know, I just tell her to. And she smiles and puts the script in her bag and texts me in the evening to let me know she didn’t have time to read it yet and I tell her there is all the time in the world.
On Saturday night Kat texts to say that she finished the script and that she really liked it. So I ask her to direct it. So we go on back and forth scream-texting at each other like Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan (if ever), both seemingly quite enthusiastic of the news, we arrange a meeting for Tuesday evening and then I text the other key-member-of-our-little-project (yup, copy-paste) who is also very happy and, that’s it.
That’s How I Met Your Director. Now head over to Our Baby’s Production Crew page to read a bit about her.