SO YET ANOTHER THEATRE IS SORRY
BY ELEANOR TYLBOR
Why do I do this to myself? I mean, really, I could have just left things as they are and not been the wiser but nooooooooo... I had to know.
So I entered one of my earlier short plays written a long time ago, to a competition. Why this particular play? To the best of my recollection, it had never been submitted anywhere and I wanted to see if it had legs. Or whatever.
Some things are better left alone and unknown.
After reading the play to myself to see how it "felt", it struck me as relatively well-written and entertaining. The characters were well-defined and the play itself relatively entertaining (note the use of the word 'relatively') so I threw caution to the wind and everything else, and decided to introduce the play to the world. I blame the entire undertaking on that infernal "send" button that always seems to beckon me.
"Aw c'mon," it seems to taunt as I stare with finger poised in the air. "Whad'ya gotta lose?"
So I sent it. By e-mail. They said I could!
Deep down in my soul there was this sinking feeling that I have got to know so well, telling me not to get my hopes up. Call it the "should'a known better" syndrome but my insecurity mixed with my enternal cockeyed optimism compelled me to send a follow-up to assess the odds of gaining an acceptance.
Why can't I leave things well enough alone? I could have lived in delusion-land assuming that a non-contact could indicate that it was under consideration.
"Dear Eleanor" it always starts out happily enough.
"Just to say I am sorry to say your script was not chosen for blah-blah. Thank you for sending your script."
Once again I've really decided to turn over a new leaf. Starting now, this very minute, I will wait for the inevitable response from a theatre, which was fortunate enough to receive one of my plays, but for whatever reason doesn't advise me of its fate. It's much more enjoyable imagining their happy and positive reaction after reading it - I mean really reading it through to the end and not just sending out a form letter - instead of being the recipient of a "dear playwright" letter.
I really mean it this time!