blog — Danielle Mohlman

I’ve been socially distancing myself for a while now. And while that’s a strange new word with a strange new meaning — here’s what it looks like in Seattle, where I live — I’m trying to put some routines into place. Most of my work was cancelled or delayed, which is bringing on some very real anxieties about financial security. But that’s mostly out of my control. What’s in my control is this: I can read a play each weekday. I can amplify the voices of my fellow playwrights. And I can do that at no cost other than my time.

Danielle MohlmanMarch 23, 2020Comment

Hello, It's Bad

You do not need another person telling you how bad it is out there.

Though I have to say, it’s kind of comforting to see every single person around me buzzing with the same level of anxiety that I feel, oh, all the time. J had a hard time sleeping last night and instead of being a supportive partner I said, “Oh, remember my entire August?” Welcome to my brain, everyone.

Instead, I’m going to do a quick list of ten things that are inspiring me today. Because hello, it’s bad. But maybe we can all find a pocket of good.

Life in SeattleDanielle MohlmanMarch 9, 2020Comment

Making Time to Eat

Last year I wrote a big story for American Theatre magazine.

You can read it here. I’m pretty proud of it. To prepare, I interviewed seven playwrights who don’t have MFAs — artists who’ve made a career and a life for themselves without the three years in a university and the student loan debt that comes with it. I walked away from those phone calls with what is quite possibly the biggest lesson of my career so far: you have to keep challenging yourself, whether you have that degree or not.

Life in Seattle, My Own ArtDanielle MohlmanFebruary 26, 2020Test Kitchen, actors, dinner, new play, new pages, community, writing, playwritingComment

She Used to Be Mine, or How Sara Bareilles Became The Loudest Voice in my Life

The other day, I turned to my partner and said, “Maybe I should just start singing more.”

I don’t have a bad voice. (I don’t have a great one.) I can match pitch with some practice. (Emphasis on “some practice.”) And it’s not like I’ve never been in a choir (um, try elementary school through college church choirs) or been in a musical (Chicago in 2008 — the sexuality traumatized my uncle so much that he forgets he even saw that show) or sung at open mics (I needed an outlet from 2011-12). Maybe I should start singing more. Maybe I should start singing more, just at home.

She Plays Younger

I play younger than I am in almost every customer service interaction I have.

And for many reasons, I’m happy to be out of that profession — at least for the time being. The youth emerged this morning, while I was buying bread at a grocery store. I was using self checkout, there was no reason for me to interact with anyone other than the robot I was handing my credit card to. And yet, for no reason and at a register higher than my natural speaking voice, I turned to an employee near the store’s exit and walk and talked the following phrase, “Thank you so much for your help! Have a great day!” And then, subconsciously, thank you for not catching me in a lie I didn’t tell. I am a child, I am a child, I am a child.

My Own ArtDanielle MohlmanJanuary 20, 2020FrankensteinComment

The Power of a "Good Question"

I own a little voice recorder.

Maybe you’ve heard me talk about it. It’s the only real gadget that I’m proud of, which, thinking back on my last five years of technology purchases, feels strange. My laptop is lightweight and reliable, despite and possibly in spite of a sticky Shift key that I created. I didn’t last a week without spilling soda on the sucker. I have an iPad, which still feels like the most indulgent thing to say. I use it almost every day, but I’m almost embarrassed to pull it out in public. Last year, I made such a dramatic upgrade to my record player that the people at the shop said, “Congratulations!” and offered to carry it home with me. And this Christmas, in a world where we were doing just fine with our 12-year-old junker, my parents bought us a new TV.

I guess I have a lot of gadgets. I guess I’m turning into my father.

Other People's Art, JournalismDanielle MohlmanJanuary 13, 2020interviewingComment

An Audience Outreach Year in Review

When I moved to Seattle in 2015, I almost immediately started an audience engagement group called Let’s Go See a Play! What started as a way to get MBA students to leave the University of Washington campus quickly grew to include new friends, theatre professionals, and acquaintances interested in introducing theatre to their lives. My mission evolved to embrace what was already happening: we would only see plays and musicals written by traditionally marginalized artists, including but not limited to playwrights of color, LGBTQIA+ voices, and women.

Life in SeattleDanielle MohlmanDecember 16, 2019The PlaygroundComment

Hello, Where is Your Dramaturg?

Hello, it’s me. Your friendly neighborhood theatre professional.

The same person who had a running commentary of the inaccuracies of Smash despite loving that TV show very much. The same person who wonders — out loud, at dinner — why playwrights are the name to know in theatre, while directors are the end all and be all of film. I’m very fun at parties. And by “fun at parties,” I mean please do not invite me to that party. I like my pajamas too much.

Cultural Criticism, Other People's ArtDanielle MohlmanDecember 10, 2019Marriage Story Comments

Rocketman vs Renault

A few weeks ago, Jeremy and I sat down to watch Rocketman.

And right before we popped the DVD (yes, DVD) in, I said, “Please be gay.” We’d watched Bohemian Rhapsody a couple of months earlier and were very disappointed in how pan to the window the queerness in that movie was. I love Rami Malek, but he seemed uncomfortable with the idea. And the screenwriters didn’t help, what with the heavy focus on Freddie Mercury’s female partner and the most passing of passing illusions (until the end credit “where are they now” moment) to his relationship with Jim Hutton. It was painful. My parents loved it. Both can exist on the same plane.**

Danielle MohlmanNovember 25, 2019Comment

My Art Historian Daughter

My art historian daughter rolls her eyes every time she takes a picture of the Louvre.

She’s archiving the memory, not for the 2042 version of Instagram, though the likes or the points or the social currency of this deeply digital generation do send a ricochet of endorphins through her brain. No, my art historian daughter takes this photo because she knows I need to know she’s alive. Activity is her love language. My art historian daughter is studying abroad in Paris, because we asked her to, because we can afford to, because we weren’t even sure if 2042 would exist and now it’s here.

Life, Other People's ArtDanielle MohlmanNovember 18, 2019Comment

Welcome to the Land of Theatre Tourism

Last month, I went on my first ever trip outside of North America.

I’ve described it often, inaccurately, as my first international trip, mainly because the only part of Canada I’ve visited feels more like a long road trip than an international adventure. We’re spoiled, with Vancouver so close by. We were spoiled when my family made the 22 hour drive one summer, stopping at every major city along the way, blissfully unaware of where we’d be sleeping that night. We didn’t even need a passport for that trip.

Life, TravelDanielle MohlmanNovember 12, 2019Comment

On Winning

Last night, Jeremy and I rewatched Damn Yankees. In my defense, I remember it being a good movie.

Instead, what we watched was a movie about a woman whose husband leaves her without explanation (“Goodbye Old Girl” does not count) and when he does return months later — like, we’re in post-season at this point — she says “Where were you?” before bashfully saying, “Oh I shouldn’t ask you that. You don’t need to tell me.” And then — get this — he doesn’t tell her.

LifeDanielle MohlmanNovember 4, 2019Washington NationalsComment