[NOTE: Letter # 1 may be found here. A new letter is published every Friday.]
My dear nephew Clive,
Our last phone conversation left me in the pits of depression, dear boy. How it saddens me to hear your voice so heavy with self-doubt! Believe me when I say, this fear you are experiencing is normal. At the beginning of any great task, the heart blanches at the thought of failure -- worse, at the thought of success!
You are an intelligent boy, so I am certain you have considered this. Your life will significantly change when you and your friends succeed in your endeavor. Aside from laudets in the press, Ovation awards, and all the aclaim that is due a successful intimate theatre company, you will be faced with the responsibilities of grant management, celebrities asking to serve on your board of directors, and the very real possibility that Hollywood will take note of this astounding, talented coterie staging masterworks nightly in the Valley. Indeed, dear Clive, it is very likely you will find yourself choosing between a continued run of Sylvia and a national commercial shoot.
As you know, my very own play, Cottonmouth was optioned by a film producer only last year! Granted, it was more of a gentlemen's agreement. (Come to think of it, I should rouse that fellow and see how his plans for pre-production are progressing. He ought to be graduating from LMU this Spring.)
I don't tell you this merely to stroke you, but rather to address the realistic expectations of theatrical success in Los Angeles that you ought to be nurturing . It will take a lot of hard work, but I have every confidence that you will succeed. Remember what Stanislavski said: "Love the art in yourself." You have a lot to love, dear boy.
Kindest personal regards,