Epistolary romances: a pre-Valentine’s story

James and I have been together over 20 years now. And during those decades, many minor but ongoing disagreements have come to the fore. The most frequently repeated is probably about career. James will be able to retire one day – a concept all but unheard of in the theater profession. When I bemoan my fate, he says, “But you’ve spent your life doing work you love.” To which I can only say: “Yes, but YOU have the option of retiring from your work when you feel like it!”

Other oft-iterated arguments: whether you should dust before you vacuum or after (I maintain it’s the latter), and whether hotel tips should be delivered at the end of a stay or doled out in miniature every day (the former, according to me).


But here at the Colorado New Play Summit, come to find out James was right all along about the tipping. This came to the fore because on my first day, I left a note in my hotel room alerting housekeeping that the TV wasn’t working, along with a small tip for the trouble. When I returned to my room that evening, the TV worked perfectly and on top of it was the note at right. Sweet!

The next day I left a thank you note with another tip, and came “home” – after trudging through 10 blocks of fallen snow while the white stuff continued to sift down from the heavens -- to a note that read: “Something for a cold day!” It sat atop a packet of instant hot chocolate mix. And then yesterday, another note expressing the hope that my stay in Denver was going well.

Today, I was just a little disappointed to get no note. But then I noticed a brown envelope on my desk, which turned out to contain a chocolate chip cookie. And in the fridge: two small cartons of milk, probably pilfered from the hotel larder. Sweet and sweeter.

Do you think I should try gradually increasing the size of the tips to see what happens? I think I should we (my interlocutor and I) should go for the gold, don’t you?

New play fever at one mile high

“Beautiful people of Denver,” as the Unsinkable Molly Brown (whose Queen Anne mansion is within walking distance of the Denver Center for the Performing Arts) once warbled. Loving it here! The sharply arctic air (a blizzard dumped snow all over the place on Monday night), the gleaming modernist buildings cheek by jowl with sandstone structures dating back to the 19th century – and yes, the theater. I’m in town all week to work at the Colorado New Play Summit, as dramaturg on The Whale, a new play by Samuel D. Hunter, directed by Chay Yew.

It’s a dazzling stellium of new work: two world premieres productions, by Michelle Lowe and Ken Weitzman, and five readings (by Octavio Solis, Lisa Loomer and Lloyd Suh in addition to Sam, plus a devised piece by Buntport. And coterminous activities, and an upcoming industry weekend of theater luminaries from across the country.

More about that on another day. Meanwhile, today was Day 3 of our rehearsal process with The Whale – a real breakthrough, too, that left me too moved to speak for a few minutes afterward. Here I am in a more pacific moment, allegedly explaining what dramaturgy’s all about:




I don’t think I’ve ever answered that question the same way twice.

More cogently, here is Sam explaining how The Whale made it way to Denver:



Stay tuned for excessive name-dropping, gossip and insider information.