Why You Should Never EVER Let Your Kids Go Into Theatre
Earlier this year, I had the honor of being published - for the very first time, mind you - by Samuel French in an anthology titled Off-Off Broadway Festival Plays, Thirtieth Series (it's an honor I share, by the way, with fellow Write Clubber Peter Macklin, who appears in their 28th Series). I consider it a major stepping stone and a direct factor in my helping to form Write Club NYC. In fact, I was so proud of this achievement that it took me a good four months before I was able to respond to any congratulatory remarks with my usual self depracation. Even now, seeing the name Geoffrey Scheer in the by-line is enough to make me rub my eyes, squint a little bit and ask myself, "Is that really me?" But it is. I did it. And I'm proud.
And just as broke as ever.
If you think theatre actors get paid diddly, allow me to introduce you to the world of the published playwright. In terms of royalties for the sale of the manuscript, the contract stipulates that it shall pay an "authors' royalty of ten percent (10%) of the catalogue (retail) price". Doesn't sound too bad, right? That's until you take into account that "authors' royalty" (note the plural possesive) refers to all six of the playwrights whose work appears in this book. This means that each individual author receives one-sixth of ten percent of each sale. At $8.95 a copy, this breaks down to roughly 15 cents per manuscript sold. Needless to say, I won't be quitting my survival job any time soon (see previous entry).
"But, Geoff," you say. "This is Samuel French. They're a major publisher of plays. Surely this anthology will sell many, many copies which, when added together, will make you some money." Hmm. Yeah, about that ... At this point, I've spotted the book in only one store, the Drama Book Shop in Manhattan. A couple of weeks ago, two co-workers of mine (wuddup, Spirit peeps?!) tried to purchase it there, but it was sold out. Again, sounds like a good thing, until you realize that they only stocked a handful of copies to begin with. Assuming it sold ten copies there (and I'm being generous - it was probably half that), it still wouldn't be enough money for me to hop on the subway so I could go down there and demand that they re-stock me.
All of which is to state the blatantly obvious - there is no money in theatre. Anyone looking to go into this who has even a hint of materialism in their nature, I beg you to please, please, please find something else to do with your life. Through this door lies nothing but sadness.
As for the rest of us ... well, of course it's not about money, is it? Like I said, getting published is a stepping stone. It's a little something to put in a cover letter that says, "Look! Samuel French thought my work was worthy of their stamp. You should check me out, too!"
And actually, I've already noticed a difference: my rejection letters are now personalized!
(By the way, if anyone is interested in putting that big 15 cents into the pockets of either Peter or myself, there's a link to Samuel French on the main website. Because we're all about the pimpage.)
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And just as broke as ever.
If you think theatre actors get paid diddly, allow me to introduce you to the world of the published playwright. In terms of royalties for the sale of the manuscript, the contract stipulates that it shall pay an "authors' royalty of ten percent (10%) of the catalogue (retail) price". Doesn't sound too bad, right? That's until you take into account that "authors' royalty" (note the plural possesive) refers to all six of the playwrights whose work appears in this book. This means that each individual author receives one-sixth of ten percent of each sale. At $8.95 a copy, this breaks down to roughly 15 cents per manuscript sold. Needless to say, I won't be quitting my survival job any time soon (see previous entry).
"But, Geoff," you say. "This is Samuel French. They're a major publisher of plays. Surely this anthology will sell many, many copies which, when added together, will make you some money." Hmm. Yeah, about that ... At this point, I've spotted the book in only one store, the Drama Book Shop in Manhattan. A couple of weeks ago, two co-workers of mine (wuddup, Spirit peeps?!) tried to purchase it there, but it was sold out. Again, sounds like a good thing, until you realize that they only stocked a handful of copies to begin with. Assuming it sold ten copies there (and I'm being generous - it was probably half that), it still wouldn't be enough money for me to hop on the subway so I could go down there and demand that they re-stock me.
All of which is to state the blatantly obvious - there is no money in theatre. Anyone looking to go into this who has even a hint of materialism in their nature, I beg you to please, please, please find something else to do with your life. Through this door lies nothing but sadness.
As for the rest of us ... well, of course it's not about money, is it? Like I said, getting published is a stepping stone. It's a little something to put in a cover letter that says, "Look! Samuel French thought my work was worthy of their stamp. You should check me out, too!"
And actually, I've already noticed a difference: my rejection letters are now personalized!
(By the way, if anyone is interested in putting that big 15 cents into the pockets of either Peter or myself, there's a link to Samuel French on the main website. Because we're all about the pimpage.)
Return to Write Club NYC Homepage
1 Comments:
Hi Geoff,
I remember getting free ice cream when you drove the ice cream truck. Yum! Sounds like you are having interesting times. I know your parents couldn't be prouder. I just finished doing a show with them at PTP.
Take care. Maybe we will actually get to see each other sometime next year. Have a wonderful holiday.
Kim D.
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