Introduction bythe editorMore than the Celestine Prophesy,m o re than Dianetics, more thanthe Forum, EST, Montel or evenGary Null, this anthology of arti-cles, if you take it to heart, willchange your life.

Really.At least it s h o u l d if you write

musicals for a living. Or hope to.Because this one provides keys

to the most elusive part of the art:the human factor.

The original notion for the arti-cle was Skip Kennon’s, but whenp rofessional commitments re n-dered him unable to assemble it orcontribute, I asked him if I mights h e p h e rd it along, feeling it toovaluable a project to go unre a l-ized. And he graciously gave per-mission. His notion was to collectand assemble, from various mem-bers of the Steering Committee,views on the often all-too-need-lessly-mysterious process of col-laboration.

Ironically, for a manifesto aboutcollaboration, everybody—includ-ing myself—wrote their piecesi n d e p e n d e n t l y, with no clue as towhat the others would write. Whenthe various components weresolicited, the contributors wereinformed that there would be nominimum or maximum length, noholds barred, no preference anentapproach, or treatment of the sub-ject. Originally, I considered using

Works

In Production . . . . . . . . . . .3

In Progress . . . . . . . . . . . . .5

Personals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .5

Opening Doors . . . . . . . . . . .5

Richard Rodgers Award . . . . .6

Shelf Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .7

And the Winner Is . . . . . . . . .7

General News . . . . . . . . . . . .8

Richard’s Almanac

by Richard Engquist . . . . . .25

Vol. 2, No. 3 June/July, 1999

Five Views On Collaboration

Table of Contents

editorial discretion, to abridge ands t reamline here and there, whereadvice was repeated (doubtlesst h e re would be truisms commonto every contributor’s seg-ment)…but even t h a t i n t e n t i o nwent by the wayside. The more Ithought about the piece, the moreit seemed right to let any repetitionstand. For it isn’t just the p r i n c i -p l e s of collaboration that areimportant. It is, like the very natureof collaboration, the exposure to,and tolerance of, other perspec -tives.

And the bald diff e rences areworth noting too…

View #1:

THE SIX COM-MANDMENTS

by Richard Engquist

Want to find a good collaborator?Be one!

1. Write terrific material and makefriends with others who do like-wise.

2. L e a rn how to listen, take sug-gestions and absorb crit icismwithout having a breakdown. (Thistakes time.)

3. Make sure you and your part-ner share a vision for the showyou are writing. The vision maychange, but if you start off w i t hwildly different goals, the chancesfor success are few and for con-flict many.

4. Keep your promises, meet yourdeadlines, and don’t drag yourcollaborator down by makinghim/her wait or by keepinghim/her in the dark.

5. H e re ’s the hardest one for me:if you have a tough problem toface, or a harsh criticism, remem-ber to start with praise and aff i r-mation. Accentuate the positive. Afellow writer with hurt feelingsw o n ’t be a fellow writer for verylong.

6. N e v e r talk about your partnerunless you have something goodto say.

View #2:

MY LIFE INART…OR SOME-THING

by Frank Evans

Carolyn Leigh, the lyricist respon-sible for “Little Me” and “PeterPan” once suggested that the firstthing a lyricist should do for acomposer is make soup. “Let yourcomposer [she was referring to CyColeman] noodle at the pianowhile you’re in the kitchen.” Shewas averse to getting tunes ontape and setting them; she pre-ferred the back and forth, the giveand take of two people writingtogether.

I thought of how comfortable

2

(Continued on page 9)

In Production:AT THE WEST CLUB EL FEY

A new musical starring famedfemale impersonator Jim Baileyas Mae West featured music andlyr ics by E llen M. Schwartz(Advanced) and Bonnie LeeSanders (non-member) with bookand direction by Joe Brancato(non-member). At Penguin Red( “ O ff - B roadway with a lawn”),Crickettown Road, Stony Point,NY, April 22 through May 30.

AUDRA McDONALD: WAY BACKTO PARADISE (The Concert)

P roduced by N o n e s u c hR e c o rd s in association with thePublic Theatre at Town Hall fea-tured songs written by BMI Work-shop writers and alumni. The sold-out evening focused primarily onwork by new writers includingworkshop writers Jeanine Tesori ,Brian Crawley , Jenny Giering ,J e f f Blumenkrantz , A n n i eK e s s l e r and Libby Saines .Michael John LaChiusa was rep-resented by three songs, includingthe title number.

BREATHE

An evening of 7 musical storiescelebrating gay men and lesbiansand their col lective spirit andvision, will be produced in Chica-go this summer at the B a i l i w i c kR e p e r t o r y as part of their annualPride Series . Music by Dan Mar -tin (Advanced), lyrics by M i c h a e l

B i e l l o (Advanced), book by Bielloand Martin. Previews begin June10th, opens June 13th, runsthrough July 18th. For tickets andinformation contact Bailiwick at(773) 883-1090 or www. C u l t u re-Finder.com.

ENERGY HIGH

Music, lyr ics and book byMichael Mulder (Advanced) willbe performed at the F a s h i o nInstitute of T e c h n o l o g y on June9, 1999. It was commissioned bythe Alternative High School Dis-trict of NYC for the opening cere-mony of an education convention.

GOLLY GEE WHIZ

A new musical by Eric Rock-w e l l and Joanne Bogart will bepresented by The TADA! Theatr eat 120 West 28th Street. The showis an affectionate send-up of allthose old Mickey and Judy musi-cals, in which sooner or latersomeone is bound to come upwith the swel l idea of doing ashow in a barn. Performances runJuly 9th through August 1st. F o rfurther information call the TA D A !T h e a t re box office at (212) 627-1732.

HIDDEN VOICESA tribute to vocal doubles and

the movie stars they dubbed, thiswas a revue that played a re t u rnengagement at D o n ’ t Tell Mamain April and will re t u rn Monday,May 24 and Monday, June 14 at6:00 pm. Performed by L u d m i l l a

Works

3

I l i e v a (non-member) withpianist/arranger/musical dire c t o rJ e ff r ey Chappell ( A d v a n c e d ) .D i rected by Margery Beddow .$15 cover, 2 drink minimum, nocredit cards. Call after 4:00 pm forreservations: (212) 757-0788. 1/2cover for WGMers, MAC, BMIWorkshop. Don’t Tell Mama islocated at 343 West 46th Stre e t ,between 8th and 9th Avenues.

LES MISÉRABLES

Following its sold-out mini-tour(tryout) last March, a completelynew YA musical version of theVictor Hugo novel, by Theatre-w o r k s / U S A’s “Phantom of theOpera” team, will begin the firstyear of its national tour in the Fall.Music, lyrics and orc h e s t r a t i o n sby David Spencer (Advanced andCommittee); book and direction byRob Barron (non-member). Musi-cal direction by Jenny Giering(Advanced). For more information,call (212) 627-7373.

THE KING’S MARE

By Oscar E. Moor e (Librettists)was produced by the CaldwellT h e a t re in Boca Raton, FL. Thenew play, adapted from “ L aJument du Roi” by Jean Canollewas given a staged reading by theCaldwell last season and a fullproduction which ran from April 11t h rough May 23. Quoting artisticD i rector of the Caldwell, M i c h a e lH a l l : “’The King’s Mare’ offers usa wonderfully funny and theatrical-ly exciting story of the courtship,marriage and annulment of HenryVIII and the endearing Anne, who

survived Henry’s lusty dispositionand roving eye, and literally sur-vived the monarch’s wiles to keepher head.”

LET IT RIDE

A ballet choreographed by PhilL a D u c a ( L i b rettists) at the Vi e n n aStaatsoper Ballet has been so wellreceived that it is being added tothe company’s the spring re p e r-t o i re. It will appear on one of thew o r l d ’s most prestigious stages,the Vienna Opera House, on June19th.

MY HOMETOWN: GEORGE M.COHAN AND THE CITY OFNEW YORK

A musical for young audiences,with book by Michael Mulder(Advanced) and musical arrange-ments by Clay Zambo (Advanced)is currently touring elementaryschools throughout NYC. Thepiece, commissioned by I n s i d eB ro a d w a y , received its publicpremiere at the Donnell Library onNovember 20, 1998.

QUEEN OF HEARTS

Music and lyrics by C l a u d i aP e r r y (Advanced), written andd i rected by Stephen Stahl ( n o n -member), played the Harold Clur-man Theatre for a limited engage-ment from March 26 through April11. The musical, based on thelife of Princess Diana, was a pre-sented by vinni lu productions .

4

THE SAD DANCE

Music by Michael Mulder(Advanced) was commissioned byHousing W o r k s and ran fro mMarch 14-28 at the Connelly The -atre in the East Village.

In Progress:A FEW MILES SHY OF THEMOON

Selections from the musical bycomposer/lyricist Davia Sacks(Second Year) were showcased onMay 9th at Theater 22, under theauspices of Lou Rogers (alumna)and her “ S q u a r e One” ConcertSeries .

TURN YOUR LIFE AROUND

A reading of the new musicalby Charles Kelman ( A d v a n c e d )was held at the Royal Palm Festi -val Dinner Theatre Center o nApril 6, 1999.

PERSONALSComposer and lyricist or c o m -p o s e r / l y r i c i s t sought for a musi-cal for which the following thumb-nail description is provided: “In asmall village by the sea, and [its]s u r rounding (sic) woods, To m(15–18) cannot come to terms withlove, marriage and sex. Heescapes from the reality of a lov-ing but possessive mother and astern, critical father, into a delight-ful dream that teaches him the

answers to his dilemma. Though itincludes witches, the devil and amermaid, it is not a childre n ’sshow. It is very serious, very funnyand wonderfully whimsical.” Adcontinues: “We have had severalhighly successful non-musicalreadings. However the promise offinancial support”—the ad doesnot make clear whether th ismeans financial support to thesongwriter or to the pro d u c t i o n —“comes with the condition that itbecome a musical.” Call MariaGreco, (212) 247-2011.

OPENINGDOORS

D.C. Anderson is collectingoriginal holiday songs for inclusionin one of two songbooks that willbe made available to the organiz-ers of “A Holiday Cabaret 1999”in each of the participating cities.

The f irst songbook wi ll bemade up of original holiday songsthat have been previously per-formed; the second of brand newholiday songs that the songwriterswould allow us to premiere in oneor more of the “A Holiday Cabaret1999” concerts. The only stipula-tion for the new songs is that theynot be performed publicly any-where before Friday, December 3,1999. After that date, the songsmay be “released,” to be per-formed or re c o rded, etc. at theauthors’ discretion.

These songbooks will consist

5

of copies of the collected songs ina binder—made available to thep resenters. However, inclusion inthe distributed songbook does notguarantee that the song will beperformed in any of the concerts.It is up to the organizers and indi-vidual performers to make selec-tions from the songbooks, as wellas from the currently avai lablerepertoire.

Send submissions to D.C.Anderson, Post Office Box220328, Newhall, CA 91322, byJuly 1st of this year. A selection ofthe collected songs will be distrib-uted to event organizers by Sep-tember 1.

RICHARD RODGERS AWARDS2000

Full text of official competitionrules reads:

Administered byThe American Academy of Arts

and Letters633 West 155 StreetNew York NY 10032

These awards, created andendowed by Richard Rogers in1978 for the development of themusical theater, subsidize full pro -ductions, studio productions, andstaged readings by nonprofit the -aters in New York City of works bycomposers and writers who arenot already established in thisfield. The winners are selected bya jury of the American Academy ofArts and Letters.

Conditions

1. The term “musical theater” isunderstood to include musicals,plays with songs, chamberoperas, thematic revues, or anycomparable work. The submissionof innovative and experimentalmaterial is encouraged. Only com-pleted works will be accepted.

2. Composers and writers whohave previously had musicals pro-duced will be eligible to partici-pate if they have not yet achievedsignificant recognition in the fieldof musical theater.

3. The rights to material sub-mitted shall remain the property ofthe author(s): the Academy will notretain any control over, or rights in,the work after the award pro d u c-tion.

Applicat ion forms may beobtained by sending a self-a d d ressed, stamped envelope tothe above address. Deadline:November 1, 1999.

6

SHELF LIFEAUDRA McDONALD: WAY BACKTO PARADISE (The Album)

A bestseller, released by N o n e -such Records (79482-2) feature ssongs written by Advanced mem-ber Jenny Giering (I Follow) andalumnus Michael John LaChiusa(the title song, To m and M i s t r e s sof the Senator ) . Produced byTommy Krasker , musical directionby Eric Stern , featuring guestart ists Dawn Upshaw , A d a mGuettel and Theresa McCarthy .

THE GALLERY

A play by L o retta Novick ( f i r s tyear), produced in 1988, will beincluded in “Ten-to-Twenty MinutePlays for Mature Actors” to bepublished by Dramatic Publishingin July, 1999.

AND THEWINNERIS…

Amanda Green won this year’sMac Aw a rd for Musical ComedyP e r f o r m e r as well as the S p e c i a lMusical Material/Comedy SongAw a rd for her song E v e rytime aFriend Succeeds.

“Captains Courageous ,” b o o kand lyrics by Patrick Cook ( C o m-mittee), music by Frederick Freyer

(alumnus) was nominated for D i s -tinguished Production of a Musi -c a l by the Drama League as wellas for Best Musical by the O u t e rCritics Circle .

The American Society ofCataract & Refractive Surgery i sp roud to announce that D r.Charles D. Kelman ( A d v a n c e d )has been selected “ O p t h a l m o l o -gist of the Twentieth Century” by33,000 opthalmologists f ro maround the world for his innovationsand contributions in opthalmology.The gala award presentation tookplace on April 12, 1999 in Seattle,Washington.

C o m p o s e r-Pianist Randy Klein(Advanced) was nominated for yetanother Southern Regional EmmyAward in the “Collaborative Com -p o s e r ” category with lyricistMichael Earl (non-member) fortheir work on “Ticktock Minutes .”Klein’s music has won two previousS o u t h e rn Regional Emmy Aw a rd s ,the first in 1966 for “Richard WrightBlack Boy” (a documentary film co-p roduced by PBS and the BBC);and the second in 1998 for an earli-er season of “Ticktock Minutes,”which is produced by MississippiEducational TV. This is Randy’s fifthnomination.

7

A ReminderThe Newsletter will be on hiatus

until the Fall, and there will be noissue publ ished for theJuly/August period. All newannouncements and interim list-ings will be included in the Sep-tember/October edition.

“Spotlight”On Hiatus

Due to associate editor FrankEvans’ professional commitments,the regular “Spotlight On” featureis on hiatus for this edition of theNewsletter. It will return in the Fall.

ScheduleChangeAdvisories

The Librettists W o r k s h o p w i l lhave two added meetings t h i sSummer: June 7 and June 14f rom 6-8 p.m. in the fourth floorlunchroom.

The first Summer AdvancedWorkshop session will take placeMonday, June 28 at 4 PM (insteadof the originally scheduled Mon-d a y, June 14). The remaining twoSummer Workshop dates will be:M o n d a y, July 12 and Monday,August 16. As usual, all classeswill be held at 4PM to 6PM.

Come Backto theCabaret

The rousing success of the I n -House Cabar e t s the last twoyears has been such that they will,with the coming new BMI year,attain the status of re g u l a r l yscheduled events, one each forthe Fall, Winter and Spring sea-sons. A second Alumni Cabar e t,establishing that as an a n n u a levent, is also planned.

By the Way...The rights to the re s p e c t i v e

contributions of credited authorsin this newsletter remain the prop-erty of the authors.

8

BMI-Lehman EngelMusical Theatre Workshop

Jean Banks – Senior Director

Steering CommitteePatrick Cook

Richard EngquistFrank Evans

Nancy GolladayWalter Edgar (“Skip”) Kennon

Annette LeistenAlan Menken

Susan H. Schulman, M.F.AJane SmulyanDavid Spencer

Maury Yeston, Ph.D.

both Ben Schaechter and SandeCampbell have made work ses-sions. There ’s coffee, food and,most importantly, copies of myfavorite rhyming dictionary andthesaurus. It’s also why I try tokeep my piano tuned and keep asyllable-dividing dictionary handy.

When David solicited this arti-cle, I started counting collabora-tors on my fingers and ran out.I’ve written with fourteen com-posers, two book writers and oneco-lyricist (not all full score s —some were songs for specificvenues). Everyone is different. EarlRose, for instance, is business-like. One hour’s work, tops. Thenwork separately and back togetherfor another hour. Earl would some-times take a lyric and come upwith a splendid melody whichincorporated the title but not nec-essarily the exact rhythmic bodyof the lyric. For his melodies, itwas always well worth the lyricrewrite.

T h e re are times when bothDoug Katsaros and BenSchaechter are able to set the first“A” section, only to find that theprosody of the following “A” won’tline up quite the same way. Fine.Now we know where the accentsa re. I always do the lyric re w r i t e .That’s my job.

I pride myself on being able towork either lyric first or melodyfirst. I believe it can really let acomposer’s work soar. Even com-edy numbers can be melody first.You know where the jokes land;you know where the accents are .Just agree on the title.

Take a look at Lerner and

Lane’s upbeat ballad, “What Did IHave I Don’t Have Now?” The titlecould appear in almost every lineof the “A” section. Lerner chose toput i t up top, but because ofLane’s melody he was able to useit again at the end to tie everythingup. (Lerner almost always workedmusic-first except when he re c y-cled lyrics he had written withR i c h a rd Rodgers for “I Picked aD a i s y,” which eventually became“On A Clear Day...” with Lane. Dothose Rodgers melodies exist any-where?)

B e f o re I came into the work-shop I wrote with a fellow namedGary Lynes (not the cabare tsinger) who had a number of pophits and wanted to cross over intotheatre. We sat at twin pianos andworked - probably the mostintense “together in the room” col-laboration I’ve ever had. It wasp robably the most contentiouscollaboration I’ve ever had, too,undoubtedly due to the fact that itwas the first time I was not writingmy own music. The collaborationeventually dissolved, but I learneda great deal:

Never ask your collaborator“Why didn’t you think of thatbefore?” If he or she had formulat-ed the idea earlier, they wouldhave told you. Writing is a processof evolution.

Composers: if you are not com-puter savvy, please don’t write inink. I know there ’s great pride inbeautifully copied charts, but letthe copy service do it if it meansthat two eighth-notes can’t substi-tute for a quarter in the fifth go-round of a comedy number when

9

we’ve come up with a nifty joke.Lyricists: try not to bend the

sweeping melody of a ballad…Isthere any human way you can finda monosyllable that fits on thequarter note without resorting totwo eighth-notes?

This contradicts the “Why didn’tyou think of this earlier...?” princi-ple but…Composers, if you have agripe about the lyric, let the lyricistknow sooner rather than later, par-ticularly before you sit down to dothe final arrangement. Don’t startcutting out syllables or changingthe meter so that it alters the lyricwhen you’re doing the “final” ver-sion. There’s important informationthat we got across in 4/4 that won’tfit in 3/4. And if we’ve set yourm e l o d y, don’t go changing it if italters the words.

In my first workshop year (itwas the beginning of the Reaganera), there was a writing team whoasked me for advice. They were indispute over a line, clearly themusic and lyric did not jibe andnever would. I told them someonehad to give and neither did. Thenext year, the lyricist went back toadvertising and I believe the com-poser is playing cocktail-piano inJersey.

It comes down to this: respectand compromise. When you re a c han impasse, sleep on it, come backfresh. Try to see why your collabo-rator feels so strongly and con-versely why your point of view maybe altered. Can you rewrite so thatyou do not compromise your origi-nal premise, but incorporate yourcollaborator’s view as well?

I believe that a bad lyric is as

much the composer’s fault as thel y r i c i s t ’s, and that a weak melodymust be addressed by the lyricist.We support each other - we can beeach other’s somewhat fresh eyes.(One composer I worked with hada horrid time getting back to thefinal A from the B and I recall sittingwith him for hours until the modula-tion made sense.)

If you can start with a book-writer from the get-go, you are sofar ahead. Your best ideas maycome from the book. And yous h o u l d n ’t expect your librettist tobe a custom tailor whose job it is tosti tch your pre-existing songst o g e t h e r. No good writer will wantto. Get someone involved early,shop four songs of your score andyour idea. Or shop your pre v i o u swork and suggest a collaboration.

Be selective when a book isoffered to you. I’ve never regrettedone I’ve bypassed. You must feel apassion—a love for the material—that will sustain you for the years itmay take to get your show on. I amparticularly wary of books whichhave dummy lyrics the librettist hasfashioned. Yes, the l ibre t t i s t sshould certainly be involved withsong p l a c e m e n t , but somethingsmells wrong when there arescripts filled with what I call “yousee” lyrics. (The second line goesto a feminine “e” rhyme and thefourth line is usually “This is veryc l e a r, you see.” And if somethingsmells wrong…Run. Be kind. Saysomething like “this just isn’t mycup of tea” in your return envelope,but run.)

M o d e rn communication—faxes,e-mail and even more sophisticat-

10

ed forms of computer interfac-ing—are fine; but it is much easierto deal with rough spots in person.In the beginning of my collabora-tion with Ben Schaechter, I askedthat he save his notes for me inperson. True, because of impend-ing deadlines, we d o often workby phone and e-mail, lead sheetscoming by fax, onto which I writelyrics by hand, for material goinginto rehearsal the next day. Butwe’ve been at this together for awhile, and by now we’ve estab-lished a shorthand.

Co-writing lyrics with RichardEngquist, we divided up the pie.We chose which situations wewanted to write for - then once wewere done, looked at each other’swords. Doug Katsaros, our mutualc o m p o s e r, set a number of newlyrics and let me have free use ofhis trunk. Doug has an uncannysense of structure, moving ends oflyrics to the beginning and viceversa. Some of the great fun of co-writing with Richard has occurre dwhen one of us wrote the initialstatement of a song and the otherw rote its reprise—and since thereprises were always from a differ-ent character’s point of view, thediction could “feel” unobtrusivelydifferent as well.

The joy, the reason we do this,is the writing. The ecstasy comeswhen we solve the problems. Thedanger is when new parties enterthe mix: directors, producers andGod help me, the actors we sodearly need and love. Do not dis-a g ree with your collaborator inf ront of your director or pro d u c e r.You may suggest ideas, but do not

a g ree to anything final until youand your collaborators are alone.Even in rehearsal, find a way to bealone and out of earshot. Don’tmake a lyric change for an actorwithout consulting your composerfirst. This is how shows can godown the tubes. If my word does-n ’t convince you, read Lehman’sw o rds about David Merrick. Mer-r i c k ’s credo was to divide andconquer; and kids, the minute youlet the producer or director startsplitting the creative team, you willnever regain your ground. Yo umust show a united front, evenwhen you are simmering under-neath.

For my favorite collaboratives t o r y, I shall disguise names andcities and shows. So, to pro t e c tthe guilty, this all took place inNebraska: I was recommended toa composer of some renown. Atthe time, the composer was con-templating writing a revue (whichwould wind up running off -Omaha). I suggested writing anopening and closing number touse as “bookends.” “No,” he toldme, “this isn’t a book show, it’s arevue.” I should have gotten outthen, but stayed in for two songs.One music-first, one lyric-first. Onthe lyric-fi rst , I thought I hadsummed up the composer’sevening by writing a thank-younumber to the audience: “Yo uMake the Songs Come Alive.” Thecomposer called me and said“Frank, I really love the lyric, but Id o n ’t know how to set it.” (I latergave it to Sande Campbell andshe wrote a very lovely and livelym e l o d y.) For the music-first num-

11

b e r, the composer had an okaymelody which I was determined toset. The composer had suggesteda rather insipid title, but I figured Iwould try to please the tunesmithand make use of the title anyway. Ire m e m b e red Maury’s “when-song” exercise and employed thesame rhetorical device. (A device,by the way, that I suggest youexploit if you are in a similar jam. Ifa producer or bullheaded com-poser insists on a maudlin title like“I’ve Got the Sun,” maneuver ita round to “ W h e n I ’ve Got theSun,” and you wil l have manymore lyric possibilities.) So I wrotea “when” lyric to fit the melody—even after the Nebraksa composerrefused to alter a musical phrasewhich was giving me trouble.

I sent a fax of the lyric to thec o m p o s e r, who, off in Nebraska,was in a diff e rent time zone - inmore ways than one, for the com-poser called me a few days laterand said “Frank, I really love thelyric you wrote but I don’t knowhow to set it.”

Collaboration over.

View #3: LOOK FOR THEUNION LABEL

by Patrick Cook

I once called my collaborator RickFreyer at work and one of his co-workers answered the phone.After hearing it was me, the fellowhanded the phone to Rick saying,“It’s your other wife.”

My advice for long term collab-orators? Present a united fro n t .Always. Whether it’s a reading, aworkshop, or a production. Every-one involved with your pieceshould know that anything theysay to you, they’re also saying toyour collaborator.

P roducers, directors, setdesigners, chore o g r a p h e r s —everyone wants their own way.And if they think they can play oneof you off the other, they won’thesitate to do so. Don’t let it hap-pen. If you begin to mistrust yourpartner, you’re in for a bumpy ride.Before any production meeting, sitdown with your collaborator anddecide how you feel about things.Hash it out before you face any-one else. If you’re going to argue,do it then.

By presenting a united fro n tyou not only double your clout,but you appear more confidentand command greater respect. Ifyou’re not sure how your collabo-rator feels about something, findout fast! If you’re in a meeting,take five. Call for a bathro o mbreak. But find out.

12

Newsletter Staf f

Editor: David Spencer

Associate Editor: Frank Evans

Design and Patrick CookLayout:

Copy Editor: Jane Smulyan

Contributing Skip KennonEditors: Richard Engquist

In any real production of yours h o w, you’re going to need afriend, confidant, and partner. Ifthat can be your collaborator,you’re way ahead of the game.

View #4:

THE FIRST FEWHOURS

by Nancy Golladay

Here’s a fact of showbiz life: If cre-ative partnerships are going to gowrong, they will very likely start togo wrong at the first meeting. The-ater folk are not noted for theirreserve. So despite nervousness,inarticulateness, lack of socialski lls, or other impedimenta,potential collaborators must keeptheir instincts wide awake and payclose attention to what potentialpartners are actually putting forthand holding back in the initial dis-cussion.

The exploration process leadingt o w a rd the choice of a project isnot collaboration as such, butearly brainstorming sessions set apattern that may affect how high anew collaboration is going to fly.L e t ’s imagine a common situa-tion—a bookwriter, a lyricist, and acomposer are all looking for anexisting story to adapt. All thre ea re friendly without being friends,though the lyricist and composerhave written a few songs togetherand are beginning to feel bonded.

The bookwriter is, in theory,

ranking Story Person, so once cof-fee has been drunk, note padsb rought out, telephones put onmute, children displayed, and theonset of any actual work post-poned for as long as humanly pos-sible, he opens the discussion: “Ihad a one-act play produced twoyears ago that I want to rewrite asa musical. It’s about—.” Here thecomposer interrupts and says,“Nothing personal against yourscript, but since none of us is a‘name’ yet, isn’t it a more bank-able idea to pick a story with titlerecognition?” The lyricist says, “Iread your script and it was gre a t ,but we wrote a 10-minute musicala l re a d y, and we’re not looking foranother one-act. What else?”

T h e re are several things to bel e a rned from this brief exchange.First, though the composer appar-ently concedes that he’s a peer, healready feels like enough of a starto interrupt another writer in mid-sentence. Second, though the lyri-cist has the more graceful manner,she doesn’t know too much aboutmusical-theater book, or she’dknow that since songs eat upstage time, an hour-long play maycontain ample raw material for amusical; therefore any future well-intentioned but uninformed opin-ions from her may prove as irrele-vant as her flattery. Third, the lyri-cist’s “I read your script,” indicatesthat she’s aware her composerh a s n ’t read it and probably neverwill, but she is nonetheless volun-teering for the unenviable job ofCollaboration Peacekeeper. Andfourth, despite the use of the word“bankable,” neither songwriter has

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much real business sense, or theywould have immediately sat for-w a rd and asked, “Pro d u c e d ?Where?”

But the bookwriter wants toshow he’s a good team player. Soinstead of confidently continuingto enumerate the virtues of hisone-act a bit longer - why not,since he can feel fairly certain thecomposer hasn’t read it and thelyricist doesn’t understand wherehe intends to go with it? - heimmediately switches to a diff e r-ent story-pitch. Both songwriters,their characters forged in thatbranch of the Klingon Empirecommonly known as “musicschool,” contentedly think, “Whata wimp,” and settle back for a nicegrazing session. An hour later, thebookwriter has pitched everyadaptation idea he has, from ven-erable public-domain novellas tothe boffo movie opening tomorrowat a theater near you, but thesongwriters are still saying, “Nope,d o e s n ’t sound like us. What elseyou got?”

Though these folks may even-tually agree on a property, the col-laboration has already gone lop-sided, and their creative pro c e s swill suffer from here on out. Every-one’s attention is now focused onaccommodating their individualwants instead of on making choic-es to serve the future show. Whathas been spawned here is anongoing competition, not a collab-oration.

What went wrong? The meet-ing turned into an audition. Tw o -t h i rds of the team stopped work-ing and went shopping. Iro n i c a l l y,

they won’t find what they’re look-ing for that way. How can anyconcept “feel like you” until you’vetried putting something of yourselfinto it? (Although for this exampleI made the bookwriter the oddman out, the same aggravationcan of course befall songwriterstrying to haul a bookwriter onb o a rd to script an idea the song-writers have in mind.)

The thing is: When a major goalof the meeting is to learn if youcan all work together, everybody’sgotta DO some work.

Those truly interested in mak-ing a collaboration happen mustoffer their fair share of ideas; or atleast do constructive riffs on themain idea being put forward. Howelse can anyone expect to inferanything about how the workp rocess might evolve, much lessabout the suitability of a givenproject for this set of workers? Atthe trial-run phase of a collabora-tion, it’s not the primary task of awriter to sell his ideas or himself.People can and should check outthe credentials of possible part-ners reasonably well before aface-to-face confro n t a t i o n .Instead, writers should offer apractical demonstration of theirskills by illustrating to the othershow they’d attempt to create thebest show possible if they wereactually fully committed to workwith the proposed material.

Like “I before E except after C”this ideal is far easier to articulatethan to put into practice. But writ-ers whose choices are directed bywhat they think will be best fortheir show obviously have the bet-

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ter chance of retaining their sanityt h rough the long haul, as well asof fin ishing the process withresults of which they feel pro u d .So it’s worth making the effort topush meetings forward with “showfirst”—not book first, lyrics first, ormusic first—as the underlyingmission.

L e t ’s picture the same trio asb e f o re. Only in this scenario, thesongwriters interrupt only toascertain that the bookwriter’sone-act was produced inLouisvi lle for four weeks andb roke even. The composer thengoes on to say: “Yeah, we bothread your play, that’s why wewanted to meet. Problem is, a bigreason we loved it is because itreminded us a lot of the 10-minutemusical we wrote at about thesame time. So maybe we should-n’t go down the same road twice.”

The bookwriter thinks, thensays, “Damn! Yo u ’ re right. I lis-tened to your demo tape, but Ididn’t make the connection. Okay.We can always come back to myplay if we don’t come up withsomething else.” “Preferably pub-lic domain,” says the lyri cist .“ O k a y,” the bookwriter says, “Ialways wanted to do a Shake-s p e a re play as a musical.” Thelyricist winces and says, “No way!I don’t write that kind of verse!”Then, getting a grip on herself,she remembers to c o l l a b o r a t e ,and adds, “But I write big emo-tions well, if we could do it inmodern language.” The composernow wants to tell how he can bestserve the show, and adds, “Peo-ple like my romantic stuff.” The

bookwriter goes with this inputand says, “Well, you can’t getmuch more romantic than ‘Romeoand Juliet.’ Whaddaya think?” Thecomposer looks worried, andsays, “That could get dreary andslow-paced.” The lyricist says,“Not if we keep it violent.” Agree-ing, the bookwriter says, “I like towrite action scenes.” The com-poser perks up, and says, “Howviolent? You mean like stre e tgangs?” In unison, lyricist andbookwriter warble: “Faaaaabu-lous!”

And they’re off and running, atleast unt il they remember that“ West Side Story” has alre a d ybeen written. Still, it was a goodfirst meeting: Everyone carried hisor her weight, everyone learn e dsomething about the strengths ofthe rest of the team, and everyoneleft the room with a feeling ofaccomplishment. Most important,no one is dreading the next meet-ing. So the odds for these part-ners are promising, despite theirshaky knowledge of Americanmusical theater history. Hey, eventhe best collaborations have prob-lems, right?

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View #5:

YOU’RE ONLY ASGOOD AS YOURPARTNER - ANDVICE VERSA

by David Spencer

How About Dinner and a MovieSometime?

Collaboration, the cliché goes, islike marriage; but I find that to bea misleading homily. The marriagepart doesn’t come until much later.

At first, collaboration is like dat-ing.

And I mean, exactly like dating. After long, hard experience,

and more youthful mistakes than Ic a re to think about (or discuss),I’ve come to realize that I candetermine, after one meeting (usu-ally after a few m i n u t e s of onemeeting), whether or not I want tosee the person again in a collabo-rative context, and indeed whetheror not I should. I t ’s not always adetermination that comes with anyfacts or objective truths attached.Nor does it matter how talented—or even well-intentioned andpleasant—the other person is; ift h e re ’s no personal synerg ybetween us, I’m outta there: life’stoo short, and the work’s too hard.Like most experienced people, myantenna is attuned to o b v i o u sdanger signs—manipulative tac-tics, intellectual laziness, lack ofenthusiasm and/or pre p a r a t i o n ,

grandstanding, false pre t e n s i o n sof intimacy, disingenuousness,etc.—but as often as not, the sig-nals are inexplicable in any ratio-nal sense. It’s a reading from myintuition…what I call my antenna.Every time I’ve trusted it, thingsworked out well. Any time I’vetried to resist it, I wound up int rouble. And the same seems tohave been true for virtually everyother writer I’ve spoken to on thesubject. Which is why I liken thep rocess of seeking a partner tothe quest for romance.

That said, there is a practicalcaveat: Let’s say you’re a relatively“unknown” writer and you sud-denly get the opportunity to test-run a collaboration with someoneon the A-list—an experienced,renowned and u n i v e r s a l l ya c k n o w l e d g e d B roadway veteran.And let’s say this guy is more neu-rotic than you’re comfortable with,or doesn’t get your sense ofh u m o r, or whatever. Obviously,you’d be crazy not to try the col-laboration on for size, not to doeverything within reason to make itwork. But re m e m b e r, this A-listplayer is no less human than theunknown writer you rejected forthe same reason. Chemistry ischemistry no matter w h a t t h estakes are; and you must furtherdeal with the political reality: theveteran is higher up on the foodchain than you are and there maynot be parity where creative poweror influence is concerned. Theremay be other factors at play thatmitigate these concerns—perhapsthe director brought you into thep roject, etc.—but if your instinct

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says the odds are too heavilystacked against a healthy workingenvironment (not your insecurity oryour stage fright or some nigglinga p p rehension that you might notdeliver the goods—that’s normal—but your s u rv i v a l instinct), saveyourself the t ime and theheartache and trust the feeling.

Which brings me to the nexthard-won truth…

It’s Never Too Late to Bail—

—not until the contracts aresigned and you’re in the land oflegal commitments. But until thatpoint, if you find yourself in a dys-functional relationship, or laboringto make viable a project (or ana p p roach to a project) that youfundamentally don’t believe in,nothing stops you from jumpings h i p . I have heard more writersthan I can remember say thatthey’ll stay with a doomed projector an impossible col laboratorbecause they’ve invested so muchtime…they’ve done so much work,some of it really good…maybet h e re ’s a chance…endless, end-less excuses, all boilerplate, andnone more valid at rock bottomthan those that keep a battere dwife going back to an abusivehusband—or that keep a strainedmarriage together “for the sake ofthe children.” (Again, liken the col-laborative paradigm to a life-part-ner or constant-companion paral-lel. The truths are p re c i s e l y t h esame.) Bad situations will onlyexponential ly worsen, and anyp roject that goes into pro d u c t i o nb u rdened with dysfunction on the

c reative team is finished before itstarts. When there ’s chronic tro u-ble, follow the advice of thathouse in The Amityvi lle Horrorand—hear it in a slow, hushedwhisper with added re v e r b —g e tout.

The dissolution of a collabora-tion may not always be easy…inmany cases, there are questionsof project ownership, rights towork that has already been com-pleted, etc. I won’t address thosehere, for two reasons: (1) Most ofthe t ime, the project is soaccursed or misconceived that thep e rceived loss is not worth thebattle. (2) I’m not qualified to dis-cuss the legalit ies of the rarecases where such questions mayindeed be legitimate, save to saythat Collaboration Agre e m e n t s —the industry pre-nups—can bevery helpful. (Though p e r s o n a l l y Ihave very mixed feelings aboutthem. Depending upon circ u m-stances, personalities and negoti-ated issues, such a document canas well be a Faust ian barg a i nwhose price is mutual trust. This isan e x t re m e l y tough call, and Iwould never advise any writer toeschew protection. E s p e c i a l l ywhen underlying rights and firstdibs on intellectual property areconcerned. I can only tell you I’venever had a fruitful collaboration inwhich the parties felt it necessaryto hammer out written rules of theroad. It’s only for a few collabora-tions that didn’t work out that Col-laboration Agreements were inplace. That said, never refuse acollaborator who asks for one—forthat can engender its own distrust.

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A Collaboration Agreement, mixedblessing though it may be, is alegitimate request.)

R e m e m b e r, what’s re a l l y a tstake here is your psychologicalhealth. The work we do is so per-sonal, and we are s o e x p o s e dwhi le going through the bir thp rocess, that we need to be partof a support system that will nour-ish and encourage our efforts andenthusiasm as much as possible.Very little takes a hit to your self-esteem and creativity as effective-ly as an oppressive or negativepartnership…or an insecure - f e e l-ing project.

But let’s say you find a collabo-ration that works.

Lucky you. But don’t take it forgranted.

Any good collaboration requiresmutual…

Maintenance (Internal)

You and your collaborator(s)re p resent the Primary Cre a t i v eTeam. That’s the nucleus. Every-body else is Secondary or Tertiary,with the arguable exception ofsome directors, but that must bedetermined on a case-by-casebasis. (Someone like Hal Prince,for example, will obviously becounted as a Pr imary forc ewhether you like it or not, and willbe hands-on—and very likely pro-ject leader—from the beginning. Ad i rector who co-authors is also,c l e a r l y, Primary. But in a majorityof other cases, directors are reac -tive, they come in later. They maybe brill iant—in fact, let’s h o p et h e y ’ re brilliant—but you’re not

obliged to invite them into the Pri-mary Inner Sanctum. And in somecases you’re better off not to; notuntil you’ve completed a full draftthat you feel has the integrity andsolidity to w i t h s t a n d a dire c t o r ’sinput.) This doesn’t mean youshould keep other personnelremote or at bay…but it’s impor-tant to have a protected, privi-leged “space” that is for you andyour collaborator(s) alone.

Traditionally—to state the obvi-ous—there are no more than threepeople in the Primary loop: thec o m p o s e r, the lyricist, the libre t-tist; and no less than two, at leastone of whom would be a “hyphen-ate”: a composer-lyricist, a lyricist-l i b rettist, etc. It’s important to goover this rudimentary informationfor the following reason:

Two is easier to maintain thanthree—or more (for example, whenthe book is co-written by a fourthparty). The more bodies there arein the mix, the harder it is to keepchecks and balances in place. Butyou must.

Since two-person collabora-tions are the ones with which I’vehad the most experience and themost success, I’ll use that as thetemplate, and touch upon vari-ables introduced by three-or-morelater.

Establ ish early on and withclear, considerate, respectful con-versation—and a grace period oft r i a l - a n d - e r ro r — w h e re the com-fortable lines of demarc a t i o nbetween your disciplines lie. Therea re no hard and fast rules hereother than the ones you determine

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among yourselves. For example: I’ve had several

collaborations in which I was lyri-c ist to other composers. Onecomposer considered it the heightof rudeness for me to suggest arhythmic scan, and held the pri-macy of the composer to decidea n y t h i n g musical as an inviolatepr incip le. Another composerquickly came to the conclusionthat the patterns in which I con-ceived lyrics—since I am myself acomposer—were too idiosyncraticto impose his will upon; he justflat-out asked me what style ofmusic I had in mind and asked meto read the lyric out loud in strict,t i m e - s i g n a t u re-specified rhythm;he had the power of veto andsometimes used i t…but notbefore considering the alternative.( I n c i d e n t a l l y, with both of thesecomposers, I also, on occasion,worked music first. Curiously, inthis regard, both were equally flex-ible.)

All librettists are diff e rent too.I’ve worked with one who didn’twant me to invent any dialogue atall; another who encouraged meto noodle and rearrange, as musicwas introduced into the mix, notwanting to second-guess the pre-cise nuances of book-into-songintegration; another who wasmildly proprietary but never said“no” when I asked, “Do you mindif I sketch something out here ,’cuz I think it’ll be clearer than if Itry to describe it.”

W h a t ’s important is not a pre -determined idea of how the inter-play should work—but rather thatboth parties feel that they’re

respected partners in the gesta -tion process leading to those workroutines.

Having had my share of bothamicable and contentious re l a-tionships, those that developedover t ime and those that hadimmediate rules imposed, I’velearned that it’s best to begin withwhat I cal l the “After you,Alphonse” approach. You will cer-tainly cross-pollinate where i d e a sa re concerned, but where sheernuts-and-bolts a re concern e d ,respect the totality of your collab-orator’s domain; don’t do any partof his or her job (even if only byway of giving “dummy” examples)until you’re invited to partici-pate…or until asking your partnerif you might try something feelsu n f o rced, unobtrusive andu n t h reatening. If there ’s suff i c i e n ttrust and pro d u c t i v i t y, the line ofdemarcation will, in time, naturallysoften and yield to a more natural,organic shape.

To be sure, there are graya reas: the aforementioned lyricscansion—neither composer norlyricist can claim it as exclusivebirthright; lead-in dialogue goingto song, and internal dialoguew i t h i n a song are likewise nego-tiable between lyricist and libre t-tist. So n e g o t i a t e . Remember theline Peter Stone wrote for cantan-k e rous old Stephen Hopkins in“1776”: “In all my years I neverh e a rd, seen nor smelled an issuethat was so dangerous it couldn’tbe talked about!”

Collaborations of three or moremay not naturally lend themselvesto a constant communal atmos-

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p h e re. When “Gypsy” was beingwritten, for example, lyric istStephen Sondheim was—in a cre-ative sense—an intermediary,much of the time. Knowing thatthe grunt work of conception, dra-m a t u rgy and story structure werenot composer Jule Styne’s forte(that, indeed, Styne’s thoughtp rocess was a little too eccentricand volatile to be helpful whenm o re reasoned analysis wascalled for), he would work withlibrettist Arthur Laurents separate-ly. The two wordsmiths would dealwith script issues, and then Sond-heim would take those solutionsto Styne, who re q u i red a diff e re n tcollaborative interplay, for devel-opment of the score. This is not anuncommon method of working:many composer/lyricist/libre t t i s tteams function according to asimilar dynamic.

Nonetheless, the lines of com-munication have to remain open.It’s okay for collaborators to workin discrete combinations. What’snot okay is collaborative conspira-cy: e.g. the lyricist and composerdeciding that the librettist is a lia-b i l i t y, and making an end-runa round him to the dire c t o r. (Yes, Iknow things like this happen—butthe truth is, if you examine the his-tory of the shows whose out-of-town tryouts or previews sus-tained serious creative team riftsor replacements, you’ll find thatm o s t of them failed.) Disagre e-ments must be aired openly,immediately and—despite pas-s i o n s — reasonably…if not alwayscoolly. Keep in mind, you all wantthe same thing, to make the show

better. And keep in mind, too, thatit is just a show. I don’t mean tominimize what “a show” means toan artist—certainly mine mean ahelluva lot to m e—I mean mere l yto encourage a sense of perspec-tive. Nobody will live or die over amusical, no matter what anybodydoes or says. It’s an e n t e r t a i n -ment. It can be solved. Take deepb reaths, stay rational, don’t gocrazy and—very important—don’tlet the craziness of others rattleyou. If only one person in a fierced i s a g reement remembers to keepa lid on his temper and keep thediscussion focused, that’s u s u a l l yenough to get past the ro u g hspots that inevitably do arise.

And when the rough spots doarise—

Keep them confidential!The inner workings of the Pri-

mary Creative Team are n o b o d ye l s e ’s business. N e v e r e x p o s eyour disagreements, at least neverin a n y way that lets a n y o n e t h i n kthat your interests and loyaltiescan be divided. If an opportunisticd i re c t o r, producer or star sensesthat s/he can play one of you offagainst the other—s/he will, 85%of the time (a v e ry c o n s e r v a t i v eestimate). And then you might aswell draw your own chalk outlineand fit yourself for a toe-tag.Because but for the lying down,y o u ’ re already a corpse. And so’sthe show.

And speaking of landmines…While most principles of collabora-tion can be filed under S.O.P.( s t a n d a rd operating pro c e d u re )with applicable variations, there isa more controversial, volatile sce-

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nario that must be mentioned,because it describes a re a l i t ymost of us encounter, at one pointor another:

What if you’re in a collaborationt h a t ’s yielding genuinely terrificwork—but your collaborator, how-ever artistically capable and dili-gent, is—let’s put this diplomati-cally—emotionally pro b l e m a t i c ,beyond any hope of reform orinterpersonal negotiation? If thed i fficult behavior primarily showsup in private, the answer dependse n t i re l y upon your stamina.Assuming you can handle theangst, can understand and bephilosophical about your partner’spatterns, and honestly believe youcan make it through the writingand production of an entire show(two to three years at a minimum,folks), then bear up as long as youcan—and keep yourself open toother collaborations: you don’twant to be joined at the hip to thatkind of draining energ y, not with-out some kind of relief or release.(This also includes having some-one knowledgeable to talk to,because if you can’t periodicallyvent, and be reassured that you’renot the nutcase, you’ll implode.Since venting necessitates a viola-tion of confidentiality, choose yourconfessors and advisors carefully.)If, on the other hand, your part-n e r ’s behavioral psychoses showup in public displays—and clearlydemonstrate the potential to sab-otage production opportunitiesand relationships with other indus-try professionals—then I wouldsay cut your losses and run, run,r u n n n n l ike a little girl from an

angry bee. Once the environmentbecomes poisonous enough toseep beyond collaborative con -trols, good work is almost neverenough to compensate for badreputations. (One of the most chill-ing snatches of conversation Iever overheard happenedbetween a producer and an agent.The Producer: “Why don’t we seeif [name withheld] is available tod i rect?” The Agent: “I guess he’so k a y. I can’t tell you he’s not stilldrinking, though.” The Pro d u c e r :“ O h …N e x t ! ” For the re c o rd: thisconversation took place in theearly ’80s. Name Withheld—acompetent professional but a ver-bally vicious alcoholic, whoseyoung work once enjoyed moder-ate prominence and bright poten-tial—is still, bitterly, around. Andhis career has never re c o v e re d .And never will.)

Which brings us to—

Maintenance (External)

Director Susan Schulman oncetold the Librettists class a storyabout her experience directing thevest-pocket revival of “SweeneyTodd.” Sondheim had been get-ting production notes from thep roducers, and in all cases, headvised them to express theirc o n c e rns to the dire c t o r. He con-fided in Schulman that this was afami liar tactic: pro d u c e r sa p p roaching “the muscle” of agiven production (in this caseSondheim) to make their influencefelt; specifically, in this case, tosidestep the less politically power-ful female director. But, Sondheim

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counseled her, long experiencehad taught him that, in production,a musical is the dire c t o r ’s game,insofar as the director m u s t b eperceived as the head of the oper-ation, and m u s t be the authorityf i g u re from which information isdisseminated and to whom allmust report. Any other scenario,he asserted, would result inchaos. He assured Schulman thathe would never endorse, condoneor cooperate with any effort toundermine her position. And, ofcourse, in the way for which he isfamous, Sondheim was absolutelyas good as his word.

Though the above isn’t, strictlyspeaking, a story about collabora-tive writers, it is nonetheless aflawless model of collaborative eti-quette. First and foremost, where“the outside world” is concern e d ,the members of a collaborativeteam must understand the impor-tance of protecting each other.N o t h i n g must be al lowed toinvade, or compromise the integri-ty of, the Primary Creative Team.Never let anyone in a position ofp o w e r — d i re c t o r, pro d u c e r, star,a n y o n e —speak to you off therecord or confidentially about yourpartner (at the very l east, notabout your partner’s work on thep roject). If, for example, you’re alyricist, and you get a late nightphone call about the bookwriter’swork, you can almost always betthe caller has already tried speak-ing to the bookwriter, or doesn’tw a n t to talk to the bookwriterd i re c t l y, and is trying to make adetour past forthright communica-tion. In such an instance, there are

only two acceptable re s p o n s e s(including variations thereof): (1)“ T h a t ’s very interesting. But keepin mind, the libretto is my partner’sbailiwick and it’s ultimately hisdecision. I’ll tell my collaboratorwhat you called me to say abouthis work, though.” Or, even better:(2) “That’s very interesting. I sug-gest you call my partner and tellhim what you think.” This cool,reasoned response, if adhered toa s s i d u o u s l y, will always frustrateattempts to divide and conquer.Because it te l ls al l would-beintruders, in no uncertain terms,that you and your collaborator(s)have no secrets from eachother…that there are no anony-mous sources…that duplicity willnot be sanctioned…that anythingsaid to one member of the teamwill be reported to the other(s).D o n ’t be soft-soaped, don’t beflattered into submission, don’t bebullied, don’t be finessed ormanipulated, don’t be goodcop/bad copped. Because youcan bet, the boat-rockers will tryto m a k e you be. Stick to yourresolve in this. Politely. But firmly.

Sometimes, happily, you’re notdealing with duplicity, but with amore honorable head-on situation,such as a talking heads sessionwith other people on the pro d u c-tion team. As many of you know,I’ve written two shows for Theatre-works USA. That company’s artis-tic dire c t o r, Jay Harnick, isf a m o u s l y, o b s e s s i v e l y h a n d s - o n(to put it mildly), and calls regularmeetings to assess a new show atevery phase of its development. Ifhe asks me a question about a

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matter that my collaborator, libret-tist-director Rob Barron, and I arestill trying to solve, I don’t haveany problem saying to Jay, “I reallyc a n ’t discuss that right now. Roband I need to deal with that in pri-vate first.” And, to his credit, Jaywill always honor the boundary ofprivilege. Similarly, if it seems thatan objective opinion about anunresolved matter might be useful,I’ll turn to Rob and ask: “Wo u l dyou mind if I brought up what wew e re debating?” Rob is unusuallyeven-handed, and will invariablysay “Go ahead.” But if he evere x p ressed ambivalence, I’d backoff and table airing those views foranother time. (It’s perfectly fine tolet a director or producer know—via cordial behavior—that you andyour partner operate by a protocolthat needs to be respected.) Atruthful “We [or I] don’t know theanswer to that yet” is also a per-fectly legitimate response thatp rotects your privacy and yourwork process. (All that said: whatif you’re in a situation with a direc-tor or producer whose impatience,or whose natural energ y, doesn’tallow you to be as select ivelyg u a rded? In that case, take thetime with your collaborator to dis-cuss the person in question—hisp a t t e rns, behaviors, methods,biases, intentions, etc.—and,based on that, devise your “sec-ond best” strategies and/or pro-tections. There will always be situ-ations in which you’ll have toimprovise. Just try not to be flyingblind when they arise.)

I know of one team of writerswho have developed a code

between them: key words thatmean one thing to “the outsideworld” and something entirely dif-ferent to each other. If they’re at ameeting with a dramaturg, say,who makes what seems an alarm-ing suggestion, the concern e dmember of the team wil l say.“Hmm. That’s possible.” Whichtranslates as, “That’s the worstidea I’ve ever heard in my life!” It’sa bril l iant protective strategy:politically sound yet eff i c i e n t l ycommunicative right there in themoment, w h e re such things cancount. Talk about the Buddy Sys-tem!

Always Ask

A few stray principles:Never give out any collabora-

tive mater ial ( tapes, score s ,scripts, etc.) before clearing it withyour partner(s).

Never make appointments,arrange meetings, schedule com-mitments, accept or refuse work,without consulting your partner(s).S i m i l a r l y, never implement impul-sive, eleventh-hour alterations toan understanding (for example—Iknow of a case where this actuallyhappened—inviting producer X toa presentation that has been pri-marily assembled for the benefit ofp roducer Y). Yo u ’ re in the gametogether. You must play like you’reon the same team.

Never take an outside meetingthat doesn’t include yourpartner(s)—unless express per-mission has been given, withcomplete understanding of howyou are to re p resent the team’sinterests, and what the meeting is

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meant to accomplish.Never assume your partner’s

agreement to, or refusal to accept,any set of working or presentationconditions (e.g. personnel, cast-ing, locale, etc.). In many situa-tions a collaborator will give you aproxy—e.g. often (but not always!)a librettist will trust the musicdepartment to cast a demo with-out his/her formal appro v a l — b u tremember that each collaborationis unique in this re g a rd; don’tassume that procedures taken forgranted in one collaboration willp e r f o rce apply to another.(Remember dating: you don’t wantto get caught murmuring one per-s o n ’s name while being intimatewith someone else…)

The Business End

Easy one: D o n ’t do business…not with producers and not witheach other (and don’t be suckeredby anyone who tells you different-ly)! Business is what agents andlawyers are for. (If you haven’t gotformal re p resentation, and moneyis a problem, The Dramatists Guildgives free legal counseling in cer-tain contractual matters and Vo l-unteer Lawyers for the Arts shouldbe able to advise and assist youon others. I recently won a trade-mark infringement case with ayoung VLA attorney.) Prior to get-ting a commitment for a pro d u c-tion, finding a reliable agent torepresent you can be something ofa challenge…but once pro d u c e r se x p ress interest, it only makesbusiness-sense for agents to beinterested, too. Whether one agent

should re p resent the project, orthe collaborators should have indi-vidual agents, is a judgment call.Assess the situation on its merits.If a collaborator wants separatere p resentat ion, that’s his/herr i g h t — d o n ’t make that a personalissue.

Surprisingly, despite the above,the basic formula govern i n gmoney issues is a standard no-brainer. Where expenses are con-c e rned, each discipline (book,music, lyrics) is responsible for at h i rd. This is true no matter howmany people are on the PrimaryC reative Team. Thus, if you are ac o m p o s e r-lyricist or lyricist-libre t-tist, you cover two thirds of anyoutgoing cost. What makes thisfair is the fact that you receive twothirds of the royalties when moneystarts coming in, because eachdiscipline n e t s a third as well.Likewise, if there are two libre t-tists, each is responsible for onesixth of the expenses. (I do knowone team of two writers—a libret-tist-lyricist and composer—whospl i t expenses and ro y a l t i e sfifty/fifty…but they’re exclusive toeach other, a long term “mar-riage.”) The only expense that ateam of two s h o u l d split fifty-fifty—or that an oddly numbere dteam should divide evenly acro s sthe board—is the option fee forany property upon which theymight base a musical. This is besthandled as an even bre a k d o w nbecause, in order for there to be atleast a semblance of legal andc reative parity, all parties must

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Continued on Page 27

Once upon a time . . .Is there a more bewitching

phrase in any language? Thosefour little words grab our attentionand invite us to flee the mundaneand enter the magic world of story.

L e t ’s be grateful for that earlyancestor who—beside a clancampfire in a cave somewhere ona winter’s evening ages ago—firstbegan to embellish the account ofthe day’s hunting or gathering,with details that may or may nothave happened. What stirred inthat primitive brain to prompt thenot ion that straight re p o r t a g ecould be improved upon withsome imagination? Whatever itwas, how fortunate for humankindthat story-telling came to be; andthat the factual was transformedinto the mythical.

For untold generations, fewpeople could read or write, andstory-telling reigned supre m e .From Beowulf and The Iliad to thep resent, narrative has dazzled,enchanted and il luminated. Andrecent decades have witnessed at remendous re s u rgence of the artof story-telling. Garrison Keillorholds millions enthralled weeklywith his tales of Lake Wo b e g o n .

Spalding Gray has perfected theautobiographical narrat ive in“Swimming to Cambodia” andother theatre pieces that have theweight of novelettes, if not full-scale novels. The one-personshow is now ubiquitous, withcountless actor/writers miningtheir life experiences and findingaudiences with varying degrees ofsuccess.

Stories—usually in the form ofm o n o l o g u e s — a re very useful todramatists. At some critical pointin the plot a character will re v e a l(in the form of reminiscence) cru-cial information that suppliesbackstory and brings the entiredramatic action into focus. A clas-sic example now on view is Hick-ey’s monologue toward the end of“The Iceman Cometh.” Or re c a l lthe bone-chill ing narrative thatp rovides the climax of “SuddenlyLast Summer.” Planting a story inthe middle of a dramatization canbe a powerful device if done skill-fully. (The current “The Weir” is, infact, a collection of stories underthe umbrella of a play. Whether itadds up to a play is a matter ofdebate.)

In films, something similar to

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by Richard Engquist

dramatic monologue is accom-plished with flashback, in whichwe have a scene played out in ret-rospect in lieu of linear narrative.Musical theatre too has oftenmade use of interpolated stories invarious forms, including flash-backs. I’m not referring to a piecelike “Into the Woods,” which ise n t i rely made up of folk- or folk-like tales. Nor do I mean “storyt h e a t e r,” wherein actors narrateand act out simultaneously.

What I refer to is the casewhere the action stops and some-one tel ls a story. Opera andoperetta are full of such moments,either to supply backstory, to fleshout character, or simply to enter-tain. Where would Gilbert and Sul-livan be without those momentswhen the comic baritone gives us(in patter) the story of his life?B recht and Weill frequently havetheir characters reminisce, or sim-ply tell stories in song form. Thesemoments work because the mate-rial itself is dramatic, is used for adramatic purpose, or commentson the action. For example, theMacheath-Tiger Brown duet in“The Threepenny Opera” clarifiestheir relationship, gives us infor-mation about their past, andserves up also a robust, cynicalsong that gets our feet tappingand our minds working.

In classic American musicalswe find fewer examples of stop-p i n g - t h e - a c t i o n - f o r- a - s t o r y. MamaRose does not calm down longenough to favor us with an exquis-ite folk-song, as the Merry Widowdoes with Vi l i a. Nevertheless, wecan still find a multitude of story-

songs which accomplish a multi-tude of things: My Mother’s Wed -din’ Day f rom “Brigadoon” delin-eates comic character. In “110 inthe Shade,” Starbuck spins a yarnfor Lizzie that changes the wayshe (and we) feel about him.

S i m i l a r l y, Tevye andQuixote/Cervantes bring dre a m sto life in song-story form, as doesNicely-Nicely Johnson with S i tDown, Yo u ’ re Rocking the Boat(“Guys and Dolls”). In Bock & Har-n i c k ’s “Tenderloin” we get thehilarious parody of a Vi c t o r i a ntear-jerker, Artificial Flowers, whichmay not have much to do with thestory but certainly perks up thes h o w. In Sondheim’s “Follies,”Phyllis tells The Story of Lucy andJessie (alternately Ah, But Under -n e a t h ! , depending on which ver-sion of the show you listen to)which lays bare her soul and givesher a depth we would not see oth-erwise. And, of course, in anynumber of classic shows narrativemonologues—both serious andcomic—are all over the place. Canwe imagine “The Music Man”without the story song 76 Tr o m -bones?

The title song in “Cabaret” is astory song. Kander and Ebb oftenuse the device, as do Comdenand Green (remember the wittyurban tale, What a Wa s t e , i n“ Wonderful Town”?) and as didRodgers and Hart (To Keep MyLove Alive, Zip, Johnny One-Note,to name just a few).

Story songs are a staple of themusical revue—the form is ideal: aself-contained narrative within an a r row space. Think of G u e s s

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Who I Saw To d a y, Have SomeMadeira, M’Dear, The Hippopota -mus Song, and hundreds of oth-ers. Great revue songs are likeg reat Country-and-We s t e rn narra-tive songs: short-short stories,each with a beginning, a middleand an end. Americans love shorttakes!

Storytelling is an exquisite artform which should be part of thearsenal of every theatre writer. Todo it well, and to use i t well—these are consummations devout-ly to be wished. But when all issaid and done, story-telling is notdramatization. By definition it isnot “in the moment”—what wehear about is not as gripping aswhat we s e e. Like the flashback,the story song is a bit removed, abit cool, to be used judiciouslyand not as a perpetual substitutefor the white heat of the dramaticscene.

To me, those musicals whicha re “framed” by narrative havealways been a touch less excitingthan those in which I’m persuadedthat the action is taking placeb e f o re my eyes. Which has morejuice: the old “Annie Get Yo u rGun” (however crude) or the newone with its distancing device?Am I alone in imagining that thereis a striking difference?

As theatre writers, we’ve got tostrive to be dramatists first andf o remost. But it won’t hurt if wealso know how to te ll a goods t o r y. Don’t forget, a good storycan accomplish everything fro mputting the kids to sleep to keep-ing the audience awake. Aw a k e ,alert and applauding!

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c o n t rol the underly ing rightse q u a l l y. (I t’s feasible that youmight enter into a collaboration inwhich someone a l re a d y c o n t ro l san option on underlying rights—the producer, or a new collabora-tor—but then you may wish tohave a re p resentative negotiateyour protections, since, by defini-tion, the possibility exists that youcan be removed from the pro j e c twith no legal claim to “intellectualp roperty” in the earnings from itsfuture development.)

And When in Doubt…

… remember how it all started.With your intuition—your dating-savvy radar. Your antenna’s func-tionality goes far beyond that firstmeeting. If a situation niggles atyou, feels inherently unbalanced,somehow—whether on your end,the end of a partner, or that of anoutside influence—the chancesa re your instinct is right. Examinethe situation, discuss it, don’t berash, and almost always you’ll finda principle, just under the surface,that will guide you safely. Don’t beintimidated by the complexitiesand subt let ies you encounter,have faith in your moral/pro f e s-sional center…

…and whenever possible, sayit with flowers.

“Five Views on Collaboration” (continued)