That Time I Interviewed David Lindsay-Abaire
I sat across the diner table from my affable interview subject, David Lindsay-Abaire. My stomach churned with envy and rage.
This memory came back when the Tony noms were announced. “Kimberly Akimbo”, book and lyrics by David-Lindsay Abaire, is up for Best Musical.
It was 2001, and I was a staff writer for Sarah Lawrence magazine My main assignment was writing profiles of alumni. I was interviewing David Lindsay-Abaire, class of ’92. He had had a smash hit with his debut play, “Fuddy Meers”. I saw it. It was a wild, funny play. His next play, “Wonder of The World”, starring Sarah Jessica Parker, was going to open soon at the Manhattan Theater Club. David Lindsay-Abaire was perfectly nice, even witty.
Even as I write this now, the bile rises in my throat. I’d interviewed many subjects before now, successful, interesting people in many fields. None had affected me like this.
(Disclaimer: I cannot locate the interview despite contacting Sarah Lawrence and searching their archives. I may not have the text but I have the memory. I think we ordered lunch.)
We sat in a back booth in a diner on Eighth Avenue in the theater district. David talked about coming from a working class background in South Boston Then he got a scholarship to Milton Academy. I remember David talking about identifying as a working class kid and his experience of being in the different world of an elite school. He went on to Sarah Lawrence. After that he moved on to Julliard, where he studied under playwrights Marsha Norman and Christopher Durang.
He was 32, and I was 43. I had tried so hard to be a successful comic/playwright. I started late, in my 30s. I wasn’t a standup, I did character monologues like my idol Eric Bogosian. By some peoples’ measures I had done well. My solo shows had been seen in major cities. I received great reviews. But I was stuck in the alternative comedy/black box theater world. Many people had suggested I audition for “Saturday Night Live”, but I wasn’t pretty or young enough. In the 90s you had to be attractive and nonthreatening to make it as a female comic. I was neither. When I handed the Daily Show casting director my (admittedly awful) audition tape I said, “You’re going to cast a cute young woman in a pantsuit, aren’t you?” The man smiled and shrugged. They cast a cute young woman in a pantsuit.
Network TV wouldn’t touch me and the performance art world thought I was too commercial. Dozens of times I thought “here is the chance to make it to the next level” only to be passed over in favor of male comics. When I was recommended to Gary Mann of HBO at a theater festival, I was told he said “She scares the hell out of us”.
And now here I was, sitting opposite a young successful male playwright. Not fair not fair not fair rang in my head. David was perfectly pleasant and I hope he couldn’t tell how I felt. Goddamn you it’s not fair. Goddamn me, I made all wrong choices. Why why why didn’t I go to college it’s not fair everything I’ve done is nothing I’m nobody it’s not fair it’s not fair.
I turned in a perfectly good article and it went to press.
This probably sounds like self-pity. It is. And why not?
I’m sorry David. It’s not you, it’s me.
