It’s a wonderful feeling to see my children bring joy and laughter to thousands of people every night. Granted, they’re an unconventional group born of an unconventional mother. My kids are a bunch of pirates, mermaids, cartoons, and space aliens. There’s even a dancing iguana in the mix. Brilliant and talented as they are, however, my kids also require round-the-clock care and attention. I couldn’t be more proud — but my children are exhausting.
Before I go on, maybe I should pause to explain what the hell I’m talking about: In a nutshell, I’m a Broadway producer, and my kids are the plays I bring to the stage. My shows are filled with larger-than-life characters that bring joy and inspiration to thousands of people each day. I stand at the back of the theater like a proud mother, glowing and reflecting on how happy I am to have produced these productions. But as a 33-year-old woman, I’m starting to think about another kind of production I should be giving birth to, the kind of production that cries, spits, crawls, and poops: a baby.
I have long applauded the fight for feminist equality and women’s rights. I have done my best to be supportive of female colleagues and strived to make my mark as a professional woman, not only for myself but for my entire gender. Though great inroads have been made over the last 50 years, Gloria Steinem’s work is yet to be finished, and there are still hills to climb for women in the workplace. Moreover, I must question what, if anything, is being done for gay women in the workplace. While my work comes first at this moment in my life, I am committed to one day living a life in which my family and my children come first. My mentors and role models have guided me to pursue work success as a measure of my life success, and I am grateful for that, but I am deeply saddened by the lack of mentorship and example that I have found for gay motherhood among professional women.
The newest addition to my brood is Peter and the Starcatcher, a prequel to the classic Peter Pan story, currently in previews at the Brooks Atkinson Theatre. Two blocks over is New World Stages, where my off-Broadway production Voca People is playing an open run. The premise of Voca People is simple and straightforward: a spaceship full of aliens (who all happen to have perfect pitch) crash-lands on Earth. As they set about repairing their vehicle to return home, the Vocas sing through the history of music, from Mozart to Madonna — all entirely a cappella. I like to think of Voca People as my brainy, quirky middle child. Not everyone will understand him, but those who do will appreciate his unique charm. The show is one of the most exhilarating things playing on a New York stage right now.
And then there’s my nomad, the wandering child who never calls. The Magic School Bus Live! is a children’s musical based on the beloved book series, and after months on the road, it is getting ready to wind down its national tour. (Side note: this is where the dancing iguana comes from, in case you were wondering.) There is also the national tour of The Addams Family and the revival of Annie, which I’m co-producing on Broadway next fall. My life is incredibly fulfilling, and my days are fully occupied. I don’t sit still, and I love every waking minute, but I know this lifestyle is not forever. I just don’t know how and when I’ll make the change and what that change will look like. This unknown frightens me to the core.
To recap: we’ve got the kooky-yet-lovable Addams family; a redheaded orphan girl who winds up with an atypical yet lovable family; Peter Pan and the orphaned Lost Boys; a bunch of lost aliens; and a magic school bus full of precocious, eco-friendly fourth graders. Are we sensing a pattern here? Trust me, the thought has crossed my mind, too. I produce shows that appeal to families and dreamers. I want to inspire, astound, and transform a mind in just the way I am transformed by theater.
read full news from www.huffingtonpost.com