FREAKING OUT!!!

The past few weeks I have been taking baby steps towards becoming a Broadway Producer. I know what your thinking, “WTF??” Well with the help on my dear friend Jacob Toth, he and I are spearheading a Broadway Dance Project (title still in the works) that is about to get off the ground. Mr. Bway, as I have nicknamed him, seems to have full faith in us and so needless to say I feel nauseous and completely overwhelmed. But hey doesn’t every creative person who is trying to put their dream up on a stage just want to die inside. Ok, maybe not die, but it is a little stressful considering I am walking and talking like a grown up with clout and buckets of knowledge about theatre, dance and female theories regarding their notion of what is “erotic”. Did I mention I’m nauseous?

I am trying to remember my halcyon days at The Really Useful Company, before Lord Andrew Lloyd Webbers fall from sweeping epic Broadway producer to reality show host monkey. That first day when I walked into the offices at Rockefeller Center surrounded by Hirschfield’s in the lobby I thought that everyone who rushed past was where I wanted to be. Taking calls from the Shubert’s and yelling at some vendor who hadn’t delivered the new wigs to the Majestic Theatre. I was in heaven, trying to absorb every little thing as if it were going to help me somehow in my “staring” role in showbiz. It seemed simple. I had gotten to that point within a year out of school. Then after three years of being at the “top” suddenly the reality wasn’t the dream anymore. Nothing new was being considered. Nothing bold, no risk, nothing that didn’t have ALW finger prints all over it came across productions desk. I mean how many times can you do Joseph on Broadway? So I left.

I thought I would make money at a survival job that would let me be funny and that would get me were I wanted to be. It’s been great and continues to be so, but now through the magic of a playbill.com job listing here I am back in the game. Only this time I am trying to create something outta nothing. Trying to find that next great choreographer whose vision will take us somewhere we might never have thought about. Plus, it has to be all female. No boys allowed. Could you just die? A project for female choreographers with Broadway possibilities and I’m in charge, sort of.

Yup, I feel nauseous.