It was my own dark night of the soul. There I was, on my couch, in the middle of the night, alone in my NYC apartment, obsessing over the daunting task of creating a follow-up to “Schmigadoon!’s” surprisingly successful first season, and spiraling.
I was like the classic Screenwriting 101 protagonist, stuck up in a tree, being pelted with rocks of self-doubt and negativity. Thunk. “It’ll never be as good as the first season.” Thunk. “The songs won’t be as good.” Thunk. “The fans will be disappointed.” Thunk. “Can you even write songs anymore?” “That’s it,” I thought to myself. “Tomorrow I’m going to have to call Apple and tell them I can’t do it.” And I was dead serious.
This was a new experience for me. I am, to an admittedly annoying degree, an optimist who likes to focus on the positive. Self-doubt is not something I’ve had to contend with much. I know, it’s obnoxious. But there I was, ready to say no to a second season of a show that was literally a dream come true for me.
We were already several weeks into the Season 2 writers room, and the other writers — Julie Klausner, Jonathan Tolins, Josh Lieb and Raina Morris — and I were hard at work breaking the season’s story. Most of our meetings were over Zoom, so I was able to convincingly hide my panic and fear from them. But at night, the story was breaking me. And this really had nothing to do with them. They were doing a great job. It was I, intimidated by anticipated disappointment, who was the problem.
It was mostly about the songs, to be honest. I just felt they weren’t up to snuff, not as good as the ones from Season 1, and as a result had played them for no one but myself. But I have to admit, my social media addiction (Twitter and its endless opinions!) played a large role as well. I knew how much the fans of the show loved it (and I knew how much non-fans did not!). I’d also seen fans react to disappointing second seasons of other shows and couldn’t help but imagine the same criticisms I’d seen leveled at them being leveled at mine. “They’ve lost the magic.” “What happened?” “I used to like this show.” “Way to ruin something great.”
So what did I do? Well, first I went to bed. And when I woke up the next morning, things weren’t quite so bleak.
Lesson No. 1: Never think about work late at night. It’s like diving into a bottomless pit of misery.
And then I called a couple of friends and invited them over so I could play them the new songs and get their feedback, not sharing how terrified I was that they weren’t measuring up. And, lo and behold, these people I could trust to be honest with me really liked the songs. They laughed at the jokes. They even suggested that these songs might be better than the songs in Season 1. I didn’t believe that for a minute, but their positive responses were exactly what I needed to get me out of my funk.
TV series, especially on streamers, are launching a whole new era of the musical.
Lesson No. 2: Don’t be an island. We humans need each other. “Maybe this season is actually going to be OK,” I started to think.
I wish I could say that lesson No. 3 is I’ve weaned myself off social media, but that’s sadly not the case. However, now when I search for “Schmigadoon” on Twitter, I have a new mantra: “The show is for the people who like it.” And that has helped.
It is not lost on me now that while I was crafting a second season about our two leads, Josh and Melissa (played brilliantly by Keegan-Michael Key and Cecily Strong), trying to return to Schmigadoon but instead finding themselves in the grittier, more complicated Schmicago, I was going on a similar journey into the darkness. In Season 2, Josh and Melissa struggle to find joy in a world full of pain, uncertainty and disappointment. Thanks to this experience, I developed a much better understanding of what they were going through.
And like them, I ultimately found my way out. But, as Josh and Melissa learn, we’re never really out of the darkness. There are no happy endings. The best we can hope for are happy beginnings.
Season 2 has been getting great reviews. There is now talk of a third season.
Here we go again.
Editor’s note: This essay was written before the writers’ strike took effect.
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