“The love that dare not speak its name.”

Many people misremember this quote as one of a thousand witty and wise sayings by Oscar Wilde but in reality the line came from a young male “friend” of his, namely Lord Alfred Douglas. It has now become synonymous with homosexuality—a love that dared not speak its name, in England at least, until 1967—but I think it’s about time to jump on Lord Alfie’s bandwagon and claim partial ownership of the phrase for all people everywhere who have ever had to face the intense scrutiny of friends, families and co-workers due to where their brave and hungry hearts have led them in search of that most elusive of emotions.

LOVE.

How sobering to think how many have suffered in their quest for love and desire and happiness—sometimes, to simply be in love is to put oneself on the front lines of a very real and very bloody battlefield.

For having a career that has been regularly split between admirers and detractors and having also carried the dark (and, from my point of view, misplaced) mantle of misogyny on my back most of that time, I think one of the few real thematic threads that exists in my work is a yearning to see how far the boundaries of our feelings can and should be stretched in the name of that precious word.

LOVE.

And so I finally decided to do something about it. I’d written enough stories about people falling out of love—tales of men and women going to war against each other. This time, I decided to write a flat-out romance and one that ends realistically but happily. The getting there, however, is always the exciting part of the journey for me. Who would the lucky couple be? As fate would have it, I landed upon the idea of a pair of adult step-siblings falling in love and the fallout that ensues because of one night of bliss spent together. “Step-siblings in love” is a funny little taboo in many (or most) cultures, a kind of social urban legend that refuses to go away even when the actual truth is that there is absolutely nothing wrong with this particular romantic connection. Still, when you describe this situation to most anyone, their first real response is a pained face and some form of “Ewwwww …”

And so it goes.

People love to judge other people, especially who and why we love and if that’s okay in our collective opinions. If you read fiction or non-fiction, even as far back as the Bible (and you can put that book into whichever category you see fit), figures both real and imaginary are more than happy to say whom we can love and/or why not. I wrestled for a long time with the idea of should there be other characters in this play but ultimately it was best as a two-hander in real time. After all, the initial test of a relationship that falls outside the norm of convention is always going to land first at the feet of the participants in that relationship. Thus, I decided to spend the early morning hours of this play with “Doug”and “Beth” and see what happens when two people who have been raised as brother and sister (but who have long harbored crushes on each other) hop drunkenly into bed and then wake up to face the very real consequences of their actions.

It was a fun situation to create and a nice ride to go on with the characters. Playwriting is exactly that to me—at its best, it’s a roller-coaster that I’ve been allowed to get on and take for a spin. I’ve been on rollercoasters before so I know in general what’s about to happen but the best ones take you through a series of loops and turns that you can’t see coming and never would’ve expected. I want the process of writing a play to be as thrilling as it is to sit and watch a production unfold on stage; both myself and the audience should never feel too safe and never be too far ahead of the action.

I certainly wasn’t in this case. What started out as a halting conversation of “about last night …” for two people grew quickly into another examination of “love” and a very real declaration that happiness and bravery are what we make it and it will always be there for the bold. To risk is everything. To write about it is easy; to criticize is even easier. To stand up and be counted, in the face of pressure and convention, that’s when you’ve really got some balls (or whatever the female equivalent would be—ovaries, I suppose).

And that’s how The Way We Get By was born. I need to thank the musical group known as Spoon for that title. I almost borrowed a title from Elbow and, if so, this play would’ve been called One Day Like This but it was not to be. I went through about a dozen other titles as well—usually it’s much easier for me—but where I’ve landed is a really nice place to be and I’m happy with it now.

I am currently in rehearsal as I write this, and I’m watching my words slowly come alive on stage, thanks to the collective brilliance of director Leigh Silverman and the actors Tommy Sadoski and Amanda Seyfried. Tommy and I worked together on the play Reasons to be Pretty (and a host of other projects since then) but I’ve been quite blessed with these two new talents in my life. Leigh and Amanda are making sure that “Beth” is very real and very female and watching them work reminds me how lucky playwrights are when they are surrounded by like-minded artists who just want to do good work, free from ego and aggression. My job is to bring a good blueprint to the table and to stand back and watch in awe as the house gets built. I can’t wait to see this one when it’s finished.

The funny (strange, not ha-ha) part of this story is the genesis of the core story: step-siblings in love. Having worked with DirecTV over the past few years on a number of projects, I got the chance to create a new TV series for them and when I described my new play to the creative executives I work with there (a pair of good fellows named Bart Peters and Chris Long), they loved the idea of the story. It was a fun and fresh spin on a very classic “boy meets girl” set-up. These two guys are constantly looking for the most original content they can find and this story seemed to fit the bill. That said, a television version would have to be opened up and show us the world surrounding these characters and go beyond their one-night stand. And that was how Billy & Billie was born. I took the bones of my new play and created a TV series from it—as luck would have it, however, the series made its debut even before the play could reach the boards of Second Stage. It’s an unconventional path, to say the least, but I hope it will be useful and interesting for those who take the time to see both works in their very different mediums; each one illuminates the other in small and large ways, and I think it’s kind of wonderful that the two events are happening at virtually the same time as well.

Certainly as the author of both I was pushed by the conventions of each medium to be thoughtful and bold in my re-imagining of the story each time out. It’s been a very challenging time for me creatively and I love “Doug” and “Beth” and “Billy” and “Billie” as if they were my own children (although the two I already have in reality are perfect and quite enough, thank you!)

And as for “love” and what can or cannot be: I don’t think it’s for us to say. The heart is a funny (strange, not ha-ha) and miraculous thing and that should be honored, not abhorred. Love is precious—would that it always and forever dare to speak its name.

After all, who am I to judge? “Judge” too much and you come dangerously close to being a “critic” (and I shudder deeply at the thought of that).

Neil LaBute

April 2015