I’m sitting here waiting for the phone to ring.

At the time of writing this, it’s March 2, 2026 and I’m waiting for a theater owner to call and say, “Okay, Ken. We have a slot.” 

But I’m also waiting for schedules to line up. For casting to crystallize. For about a hundred other things to click into place at roughly the same moment.

I say it all the time — making a musical is like trying to get 17 people to paint the Mona Lisa.

One person wants this color. Another wants that texture. Someone has strong feelings about the lighting angle. And now factor in that everyone is busier than they’ve ever been.

The fact that shows happen at all is kind of a miracle.

That’s this business, folks.

The Waiting Is the Work

Here’s what I need people to understand: a holding pattern is not a pause.

Since our last check-in in December, we’ve done a full pass on the budget (line by line) to make it leaner and smarter. We’ve had multiple meetings with set designer Jason Sherwood and our production manager. We’ve been deep in the script with writers Steve Rosen, David Rossmer, and director Donna Feore and getting serious about casting.

Broadway is facing real economic challenges right now.

And I refuse to produce this show the way I would have produced it 10 years ago. That would be doing everyone a disservice. The audience is different. The economics are different.

The world is different.

A producer’s job, simply put, is to get the show to run as long as possible. Two reasons . . .

1. The longer it runs, the more people hear what the authors have to say. The Griswolds’ Broadway Vacation has something to say. That father-daughter duet in Act Two? It’s about what a family vacation really means — the chaos, the togetherness, the love underneath all of it. I want as many people to experience that as possible.
2. The longer it runs, the better chance my investors have of getting their money back. (Not making a fortune — just getting it back. So they can do it again. That’s the community we’re building.)

That’s why this waiting period isn’t wasted. Not for one second.

Thinking Like a Franchise

Here’s something we’re doing differently this time — and I’m genuinely fired up about it.

Broadway thinks short-term. We get a call from a theater owner, a star’s window opens up, and suddenly it’s zero to sixty. No time to think. Just solve the problem in front of you right now.

I’ve lived that. Many times.

But right now we have a little more runway. And we’re using it.

One conversation I keep having with Jason: what if we build a set that doesn’t just work on Broadway, but works on tour too? Same set opens in New York, then eventually hits the road — and by then, we already know exactly how it plays.

That’s what franchises do. They find something that works and replicate it intelligently.

The Script Keeps Getting Funnier

Here’s something that keeps catching me off guard: every time I read this script, it makes me laugh a little harder.

First read = big smile. Six months later = a new laugh. A line that lands differently. A moment I’d somehow missed before.

That kind of staying power tells you something about the writing.

The development phase has also shifted completely from where we were two years ago. Back then we were rethinking the entire structure — reshaping a two-act musical from the ground up. That was the right work then.

Now? We’re fine-tuning. It’s like watching a conservator do the last careful touches before a painting goes on the wall.

The big strokes are done. Now we’re making it great.

Why This Show. Why Now.

I’ll be real with you — what’s driving me right now isn’t coming from inside the industry.

It’s coming from outside it.

When 9/11 happened, my mother called me. She meant it with total love. But she said, “Kenneth, should you be doing something more important?” She was nudging me toward law. Maybe political office (I would never).

I said: “Mom. This is important.”

I believe I am putting good into the world. Every show I’ve ever produced — from Spring Awakening to The Griswolds’ Broadway Vacation — carries its own kind of medicine. An antidote. A reason to breathe for two hours. A reminder that life is also funny and worth celebrating.

The Broadway musical was invented to do exactly that — make people forget the headlines for a little while and just. have. a. blast.

We need that right now. More than ever.

What Comes Next

The next two months: finalize the script pass, lock a theater, nail down casting.

A mentor told me years ago, “You want a show to happen? Book a theater.” Twenty years ago you could just do that — pick up the phone, grab a house. Now it’s more complicated, as you’ve gathered.

But when that call comes?

Zero to sixty. No seconds flat.

I’m ready.

And here’s what I’d ask you to think about — whatever project you’re sitting with right now, whatever show or idea or creative thing is in that holding pattern: are you using the wait? Or are you just . . . waiting?

There’s a difference. 

Follow me on Instagram, LinkedIn, and Youtube for more business of Broadway insights and news.