I was going to begin rehearsing a brand-new newly-written play of mine this week called, “Slices”. It was to be about a group of executives of different nationalities waiting to get down-sized at a multinational based in Europe. The fear, desperation, politics, hysteria, comedy, surrealism of this situation. Auditions done, ideas began bubbling, most of the writing still had to get done within four weeks. This was the same procedure I had performed with my previous play, “Max Dix, Zero to Six”, writing the script when the actors had been cast.

Before committing to doing this, I had meet-ups with members of the board of the producing group, explaining my need for a backstage team and/or production team, or at least a list of interested contacts. I got affirming nods but nothing happened and I started writing and auditions happened and I wrote some more and sent out a “help-me-with-this” email and nothing came back but at a social event I was given three people’s names to contact as possible producers, without contact details. One of these people I had had a falling out with years ago. Another was already engaged with another production. The third was going through a divorce.

Significantly I also possessed a lifelong personal dread in cold-calling/contacting people to ask for help. With the holidays about to begin, I was trying to write and cast this play, come up with directing ideas without anyone on the technical or production side who could give me an idea whether something I was thinking of would be possible. Suddenly I only had three weeks to complete the writing of the full-length play, knowing I might have to rewrite the thing when much of what I was thinking of might not be possible, or who, and what quality of who, would be involved beyond cast members. And this play would have to go up in March.

With all this hanging over my head, the writing stuttered to a stop as worry rose. I had never put a production team together. All my contacts in this area were casual and fitful. I was called upon to be practical, creative, multi-tasking, dig and call around, administrate and organize, run my publishing company and my communications business and enjoy some Christmas. Unable to do half of this, I withdrew myself and the play rather than face possible mediocrity for the actors and the play.

There was no one to point to and say, Bad Person. This Is The Way It Is. I had been spoiled with my last two plays, with the essential part of the production team already set-up, which allowed me to concentrate solely on the creative. I had foolishly forgotten how one is expected to be part administrator/part director/part hustler to put on a play, and these combined skills set were not something I possess. This Is Not The Way I Am.

Still, I have SLICES the novel, which I’m moving forward with.

Pity is, I do this play writing and theater directing stuff pretty good.