The Origin of a Play: How Bob & Jean Happened

I tell people that there are three great moments in the process of creating a new play. The first, of course, is when you are working by yourself, alone in your room, lost in this new world. The heart of Bob & Jean lay in this box of letters, their correspondence when WWII had thrown them violently apart just after they had fallen madly in love.

I began by transcribing the letters and then trying to put them into order. Not chronological order, because the chaos of the wartime postal system made that impossible! I tried to put them in conversational order. Important questions asked and answered. Or evaded. It was very much an emotional jigsaw puzzle I was assembling. And as their story became clear, I became increasingly aware of my own part in this process. Here was their son, now in his 60s, a father on his own, looking back at his parents in their 20s. I was not only discovering things about them, but I was also having my own revelatory journey. And so, I wrote myself into the play as the Narrator. Now, instead of a duet, we had a trio! I could question them directly and they – gulp – could question me as well.

The second great moment in the creation of a new play is when you relinquish your privacy and your total control, and finally share that script with a director, actors, and designers. That adjustment is not always a happy one but in this case, working with Director, Matt August, and actors, Jake Bentley Young (Bob) and Mary Mattison (Jean) and Scott Wentworth (Narrator) was a joy. All well trained, experienced professionals, they brought my story to full and vibrant life. I was their guide for much of the time but they also taught me things I hadn’t realized about my own play. This process of discovery, of surprise, is one of the keenest pleasures of working in the theater.

Designers, too, were deeply involved during all of this. As the action of the play takes place in theNarrator’s imagination, the stage Set, the physical playing space, emerged as an endlessly adjustable “arena of the mind,” literally filled with giant post cards and letters covering the floor and the walls. Costumes brought us back down to earth with a keen eye for period authenticity. And the music, composed originally for this production, swept us along with emotion.

Throughout rehearsal, I kept making adjustments to the text, adding and cutting lines, shaping scenes, as my own idea of the play evolved. Rehearsal is not always such an emotional process but with Bob & Jean, watching my parents come to life again, young and vibrant, and so deeply in love, it was a deeply personal experience.

And then, there is that third great moment in the birth of a new play. When you move out of the rehearsal hall and into the theater where you share it with a group of strangers. I always stand in the back of the house so I can watch the audience. Watch them laugh. And gasp. And cry. Watch them forget their troubles and lose themselves for this rare moment in a shared story.

At the end of the first public preview, I remember watching a couple that had lingered after the curtain came down. Probably in their fifties. He was a big man, six foot plus, 200 pounds. He stood there, wiping the tears off his cheeks. His wife, who was about two feet shorter, stood by his side, patting his shoulder comfortingly. And then he turned to her, bent down, and kissed her so tenderly. That’s why I write.

Bob & Jean, A Love Story. Come join us, won’t you?

Bob & Jean, A Love Story will run from May 27 to June 15, at Bay Street Theater in Sag Harbor. Visit baystreet.org for tickets and info.