“Making a movie for me is very similar to vomiting. You don’t like to vomit but you know you may feel better if you do.”
⁓Warren Beatty
Last Tuesday, I had the pleasure of watching Alan Rickman on Broadway. I’m not a fan of musicals, so the only time I really ever enter Times Square is when I’m desperate to see a straight play or when I have to pick up my contact lenses. The last time I visited the Great White Way was in 2010 to see Jeff Daniels in God of Carnage. It was good, not great. Last year, I almost splurged on Book of Mormon tickets, but the fee was just too high to justify (especially for a musical). But when I heard back in November that Alan Rickman (aka Hans Gruber from Die Hard) was starring in a play about writing, I knew I had no choice. I had to go.
Three months later, I still had not gone. Having a 13-month-old child and a husband who freelances for a living (and therefore can’t plan ahead) makes scheduling difficult. But then one night, between dinner and our weekly dose of Breaking Bad, Ross told me to “just buy the frickin’ tickets.” So I did.
The next day, with the help of a dear friend who offered to babysit, we were able to join the tourists in midtown and watch Mr. Rickman perform in the flesh. My love for Alan Rickman began at the tender age of ten when I saw him in Die Hard. Bruce Willis’s big, bulging, oily muscles just didn’t do it for me, but for some reason the badass, skinny European in the suit with a German accent did. (Much the same way John Malkovich did that same year in Dangerous Liaisons. Disclaimer: I was a weird ten-year-old who watched Court TV and had older siblings.) Then, in 2003, I watched Rickman play a nice guy in Love Actually. My fascination increased. A bad boy-turned-good. It was miraculous.
Even though I’m married now, watching Rickman as a haggard, beaten-up bad boy, as he is in Seminar, is still just as thrilling. On top of that, the fact that Rickman plays a celebrity writer-turned-teacher hit a nerve. As a creative writing student, I’ve been to many a writing seminar. For me they are similar to Broadway shows. Sometimes I love them, and sometimes I hate them. I think of writing the same way Warren Beatty thinks of movie making—it’s my necessary evil. Another necessarily evil is feedback, which is why I attend writing courses. I NEED feedback in order for my writing to get better. I’m no Dickens, Cheever, or Woolf. Line edits and suggestions are imperative. That said, what I’ve learned about writing seminars over the years is that they are what you make them. You need to allow yourself to be open to criticism, but not lose focus.
Everyone has opinions. A simple semicolon can make a fellow writer (or Alan Rickman in the case of Seminar) immediately dismiss your work. You have to take it or leave it. (Personally if Alan Rickman were to give me a verbal lashing for a semicolon, I would take it.) But what I really loved about the play was the underlying idea that writing is not all about getting published in The New Yorker or being accepted to Yaddo, it’s also about the love of the craft and trying to figure out how not to throw up (or give up) in the process.
Go see Seminar before Jeff Goldblum takes over for Alan Rickman! He/it’s worth it! Details HERE.
Addie Morfoot is a freelance journalist at Daily Variety and is finishing her MFA in creative writing at The New School. Last year, her world turned upside down when she gave birth to her son Harry. Each Monday, she writes about juggling work, school, marriage, and motherhood in the Big Apple.
