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Musing #35: Yo, Broadway! Stop with the Hollywood. (Part IIA of II)

Welcome, dearest readers, to Part IIA of Musing #34: Yo, Broadway! Stop with the Hollywood.

When I wrote Part I, I did not know that I was being sent to Florida for the second half of July to work on a huge federal trial in my (exasperating) legal secretary capacity. I’m writing today from Tampa (near where I grew up), more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life, with no ticket home yet booked.



There’d be no end in sight even if I could fully open my swollen eyes, which I cannot. I’ve been toiling 18-hour days (weekends included) in agonizing, indefinite limbo from my real life. I miss my New York shoebox more than I could ever miss a lover. I’m losing weight my tiny body cannot afford. This is some seriously tough Scylla and Charybdis steerage, because the only work in the world that I want to be doing is on my screenplay.

I haven’t a moment to myself. It’s utterly soul-searing. Of course, this particular depression will be greatly assuaged when I can finally go home and receive what will be the largest single paycheck I’ve ever earned. (By far.)



I’ve managed to find enough of a lull in the madness to knock this out, but it’s clearly not the lengthy essay I intended to write. I feel so passionately about the fundamental wrongness of adapting cinematic works into stage musicals that I could write an entire book about it if I had the time and inclination. But because I’m blogging on the sly, as it were, I have no choice but to “adjourn” my essay until August. Please accept my deepest apologies for the rain check. There’s simply nothing I can do about it.

So tune in next month for Musing #36: Yo, Broadway! Stop with the Hollywood. (Part IIB of II).

Until then, “Damn the trial. Take me back to Manhattan!”

The Ghost of Reno Sweeney


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