Reaction to my decision to retire from theatre has been varied, but the dominant themes have been disbelief, derision and dismissal. For every one friend or colleague who has said, “Seriously? Oh, well then I wish you the best on whatever it is you do next,” there have been four who have said something along the lines of:
“Oh, sure Paul. Retiring. Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Or…
“That’s hilarious. How can you retire from something that makes you no money? You know what? I’m retiring from poverty. LOL!”
Or…
“I give it six months.”
Perhaps the most perplexing response is…
“But I just saw your post about [your play being translated into French / your play being read at ____ / a possible production of your play at ______]. How is that you being retired?”
As if I would stop allowing the plays I’ve already written to be performed or read or translated. Is there a playwright in the history of theatre who has done this?
So, you can see why I might be leery about telling people the news. There are times, however, when I still have to, like when Dominic D’Andrea reached out to me recently and asked if I’d like to participate in his upcoming One Minute Play Festival, soon to be in residency at ACT in Seattle. I suppose I could’ve just ignored the inquiry, but after spending over two decades working towards getting these kinds of invites, I bristle now at blowing them off blithely. I wrote back:
“Thank you for thinking of me. I am, however, retired from the theatre.
Sincerely,
Paul Mullin”
Dominic quickly responded:
Hi Paul--
Thanks for the note back.
If this is serious, then I wish you luck and happiness on your new adventures. You've certainly posted great tweets about theatre--which was why I was looking forward to engaging with you. You are a bright spot.
If this happens to be a joke, then it will go down as one of the most hilarious "no" responses of all time.
Thanks!
Dominic D'Andrea
I replied assuring him that as much as I wish I were that hilarious, alas, I wasn’t joking.
And then the most amazing and unexpected reply came.
Well, I'll say this. I think a lot about this topic. We all get so entrenched in working in theatre. It's often a detriment to our heath, to our finances, and to our mental state. We can stay in the work because of some sense of obligation, or because we belong to a group of people that we feel passionate about, and/or out of plain old habit (or because we don't know what else to do with ourselves.) Leaving the work is not an easy thing--and it's an active process to get people to understand or stop going "no, seriously." If it's not serving you as an artist, a human being, or your spirit--or you simply feel fulfilled and done, then you have every right to try and do something else. Only you know what is good for you. We get trained to think that staying in this forever is the right thing to do, that leaving is a sad/tragic/defeat, and success is always right around the corner, if we just keep it up.
That way of thinking is wrong. Mostly, theatre is just a community event, with an occasional paycheck--best case scenario. And life is a big ol' process, that can offer a lot more that we give ourselves credit for, if we are open to what it has to offer. …
I've often thought about leaving the work myself from time to time; however, I literally have no idea what else I can do.
It's a tough thing to do, and it's an act of bravery to call it out. I wish you luck helping to get people to understand and respect your position, and for what comes next. Seriously.
Thanks,
Dominic
I asked Dominic for permission to share this publically. I consider him a cherished new friend among my many good old friends in the theatre. And I count myself lucky that I’m not leaving any of those friendships behind.
You once told me that quitting, at our age, is just petulant. What happened to make you change your opinion?
Posted by: Bill Salyers | 04/03/2014 at 11:19 AM
New doors and windows off heretofore unexplored hallways.
"My father's house has many rooms."
Posted by: Paul | 04/03/2014 at 11:45 AM