All the World's a Page
Mandatory picture of the Harry Potter and the Cursed Child program.
My love for theatre started at an early age, when I was cast as Jesus in Joe Carpenter and Son. At the ripe age of seven months, I stole the show with flaming red hair and an obsession with Mary’s blue and gold veil. My talented mother played Mary, so I had a small foot in the door, but I am certain I beat out many babies for that coveted role.
This past weekend, my husband and I visited the Big Apple for a production of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, a two-part Tony and Olivier award-winning experience. We arrived in the city an hour and a half later than anticipated with a twenty-five block hike to the hotel. For the next three days, I walked no less than 10,000 steps a day. We visited Central Park, ate our way through City Kitchen, and watched an amateur improv show at Upright Citizens Brigade (UCB).
From Times Square, it is almost impossible to go down a side street without passing a theater. I found myself thinking about all the talented playwrights with productions on Broadway and how theatre has influenced my writing.
The Wonderland statue in Central Park.
Before I wrote novels, I wrote, acted in, directed, devised, and researched plays. I was part of collaborative teams that lifted words from the page and transformed them into spectacular visuals, sounds, and performances. We were world-builders who pulled inspiration from history, nature, and everyday life into experiences that invoked feeling from an audience.
In the initial stages of writing, I’ve had to be my own team. I am the scenic and costume designers, the fight choreographer, the stage manager, all the actors, and the director. I haven’t felt like a writer, but rather a million people pulling the strings behind the dark, backstage curtains. It’s this multitasking that drew my attention behind the curtain of the Harry Potter and the Cursed Child creative team.
The stage at the beginning of Cursed Child.
The brilliant Hogwarts carpet design of the Lyric Theatre.
Cursed Child is the story of Jack Thorne, J.K. Rowling, and John Tiffany. It is unclear how the three collaborated, only that the play was unlike anything I had ever seen. I will #KeepTheSecrets, as Rowling requested, but I will say that these collaborators imagined something beyond theatre. In the story, they thought of direction, grand spectacle, a musical score, and a play that has the quick transitions of a film and the practical magic of theatre. AND choreography.
How does one pluck their iconic characters from a book, which has been adapted into a popular movie series, and reintroduce them in a live production? Through a commitment to its core values: love and sacrifice. Through familiar spells, potions, and names. Through a talented team of dedicated people.
In contrast, when we saw two long-form improv shows at UCB, the shows were crafted in a moment with a single suggestion from the audience. Our favorite show was built from the word “luxurious.” The show consisted of a dozen hilarious scenes which weaved in and out of repetitive narratives and focused on obsessive characters rich with dramatic emotion. Behind every moment were five team players who listened to one another and built creative worlds with their words.
What these two shows had in common were their strong teams. In their brilliant execution, they reminded me of what teamwork means at this stage in my process. I am chipping away at my second novel. For hours at a time, I am in my head, speaking with characters, creating faces, and building pace. I know that someday my team will grow to readers, but for now, it consists of my own private squad who has been in constant rehearsals.
The show must go on, but not without this rehearsal (or personal writing period). It’s a chance to try new things, learn new facts, and take risks. It has taken me too long to realize that my theatre background was not a different facet of myself, but instead one without which I couldn’t write my stories. I treasure these experiences to see theatre, whether expertly developed or improv’d in an instant. I feel at home when I question how theatre magic happens, either in the words of the script or the display of performance. Without the many hats of development, we wouldn’t have the stories we have today, and I am thankful for the experiences that built my education in storytelling.
Me, in the Cursed Child lobby, somehow maintaining my composure as I carefully inspected (and consequently fan-girled over) every small design aspect.