While I was in grad school, my professors talked so much about The Dramatists Guild that sometimes I rolled my eyes. Okay, it’s a great resource for writers. I get it. I was a student member then and also, during the spring of my first year, an intern in the Times Square office. My banner project was updating the Guild’s database of regional theatres.
Fast forward two years and I’m sitting in my apartment re-writing a terrible play when my laptop dies. Like really, really dies. I panic for about 48 hours, and then I remember some of the stuff my professors said about The Guild and send them this herky-jerky, apologetic email. I had a new computer in less than a week.
The year I spent as a Dramatists Guild Fellow, making work with writers, composers, and lyricists I deeply respect, marked my formal transition from student-apprentice to professional. I dutifully sent every off-off Broadway contract I got to the Legal Dept because when you don’t have an agent, the Guild will look them over for you. Do people know that?
But there were also years when I let my membership slide because after rent and food, there wasn’t enough left over. And there were years when I regressed, and eye-rolling was all I could manage because nobody featured in the pages of The Dramatist magazine was as brilliant as me, and yet, there they were talking about their opportunities.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m human. And I’m a writer. And even though sitting alone with my words and the thoughts they represent is my idea of heaven, I need a community too. And I’ve found one through The Guild. Now I’d like to do everything I can to make it the best it can possibly be.