On Creating a Show

Leslie O’Brien and Marty Nemko, the AI-enhanced, co-conspirators in Not Your Average Church Lady

Two months ago, I had never even heard of Leslie O’Brien. Now, we’ve created and performed Not Your Average Church Lady four times, including twice before a TV studio audience. It’s scheduled for broadcast starting in March, twice a week for a month anywhere in the world online or on traditional TV throughout the Napa Valley.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. On Dec. 16, I found myself not looking forward to giving my next keyboard concert, Welcoming Winter, mainly Christmas songs. So I decided to find a singer to sing a couple carols. I called two local choir directors and each recommended the same singer: Leslie O’Brien. Now that’s a good sign.

Dec. 18 was the concert and Leslie turned out to be much more than a singer, more than a performer, she was smart — clever off-the-cuff bantering with me and the audience. So I had her sing for half the concert, no preparation. She was great and we played off each other in between songs — no cliched, “Is everyone having fun?!” Plus, Leslie is easy to get along with, defaulting to yes and to making others feel good.

I like creating, so I asked if she’d let me create a show for her, with me as antagonist and piano accompanist. Unlike atheist me, she is a practicing Christian but with a playful edge, so I created Not Your Average Church Lady, with her as the deacon who voted to put pastor me on probation because I was emotionally tone-deaf.

Because we can think on our feet, a script would leach chemistry. So, I just created a rundown: a few words to remind us of the theme of our between-songs interaction, and then an appropriate song to segue into.

Surprise is key, so I had her start as a frumpy church lady serving cheez-its at a church supper. After inviting, “Cheez-its for Jesus,” she transformed into exuberant Sister Maria in Sound of Music leading audience members through the hills singing Doe a Deer.

In a nun’s habit, she sings, oh-so-seriously, a chorus of Joyful, Joyful from the movie Sister Act 2 and then breaks into a stomping Black gospel version, during which she slips off the nun’s habit to reveal a beautiful orange dress and closes with They Don’t Let You Sing at the Opera during which she gives birth while performing at the Metropolitan Opera complete with contractions and screaming.

Slowly, my character gets taken by her Christian kindness. In the end, I’m committed to balancing truth with kindness, convince her to become a pastor, and after a beat of ambivalence, put my flask into my pocket.

I believe in creating a first draft quickly and then revising, revising, revising to excellence. That’s far easier and more fun than struggling for perfection in a first draft.

I also believe in collaborative leadership, especially because Leslie is smart. I came with most of the ideas but she has her own, plus she sometimes pushes back. No ego, only the decision that would make the show better.

We first worked on the concepts, the order, props, and costumes, and only then turned to making the singing and my accompaniment, well, sing.

Our first performance had me be a rather caricaturish minister, complete with rural Scottish accent but she suggested and I agreed that it’s more credible, interesting, and playing to our strengths for me to be a thoughtful, questioning minister, whose flaw was being honest at the expense of kindness. So, we briefly but substantively debate the problem of evil (theodicy,) the existence of God, and the extent to which Christian kindness is usually just performative. After a brief exchange on one of those topics, there’s a credible transition to a song. That’s working better.

I’m sensitive to male bashing. Well, in the song we both love, They Don’t Let You Sing in the Opera, every man, even the heroine’s champion and benefactor, is bad: “a blowhard…and then the bastard died.” When I proposed replacing “blowhard” with “kind heart” and “bastard” with “old man,” she agreed.

I told her of my tendency to play and speak too quickly. So if she wants me to slow down, she should subtly signal me.

Before we did the show on TV, even though I’m an atheist, in the car, when we parked next to the studio, I asked if I could say a little prayer for us. I thanked the fates for the serendipity of our unexpected meeting, compatibility, and ability to create an enjoyable show in just a month while both of us are working full-time in our day jobs. Atheist or not, praying together felt good and now, before every show, we step away to say a prayer.

We’re continuing to polish and, while our first plan was to go big, we’ve tentatively decided that because the show is kind to religion and most of the songs appeal to older people, for example, You’ll Never Walk Alone, Broken Vow, and No Time At All, our niche should be older people, especially doing fundraisers for churches and synagogues.

I have a rich life but am finding that creating and refining Not Your Average Church Lady is among my life’s most rewarding projects.

The generalizables: a purely pro-social mission, a project partner well-matched in intelligence, artistic talent, benevolence, and a project with some stakes. Whether you’re a teacher deciding if your class should create AI-based videos to post on a TV in the hall, a writer considering new tools for influencing people away from MonoMind (the narrowing of the American Mind), or a manager wondering about replacing the usual boring dog-and-pony-show with an immersive interactive session, I suggest you give it a try.

I read this aloud on YouTube.

Marty Nemko is a career and personal coach, and author of 36 books including How to Do Life. You can reach him at mnemko@gmail.com