Ted Kosmatka

“My father was a steelworker, as was his father before him…”

 Steel and Roses has been, bar none, the most fulfilling project I’ve ever been a part of.  For me, it started with a writing class at Valparaiso University and a burning desire to tell the story.  I was involved in the play from its earliest incarnation in Chicago, when a one-act piece called Steel was performed on stage to an audience of around a hundred souls.  Since then, I’ve seen Steel and Roses grow to two full acts, absorbing the gifts of many talented people.  In its final form, the play tells a dozen stories from nearly a dozen different writers.  Some of those stories are uplifting, some funny, some serious.  Some have even been called dark--mine, perhaps, darkest of all.  I've had the honor of seeing this funny, serious, dark piece of theater performed in Chicago, Hammond, and finally now, in New York City.   

I will forever be grateful for my opportunity to work with such an incredible group of writers, actors and theater professionals. 

          In a mill, everything is either hot enough to burn you, sharp enough to cut you, or heavy enough to crush you.  And then there's the poison gas.                  

                                                                                --Advice to a new-hire.

                  General Foreman’s at the door.  “Is this the home of Widow Par?”

                  "I’m no widow.”

                  "The fuck you are.”

                                                                                 --Mill saying (Jeff Manes).

On a side note, while in New York for the production, I was invited by Sheila Williams, esteemed editor of Asimov's, to swing by Park Avenue for a visit.  If seeing Steel and Roses performed in the Big Apple wasn't enough, I actually got to see the Asimov's offices, too. 

It was surreal to stand there in the lobby and stare at the postal box that I'd been sending stories to since I was seventeen.  I took a picture of it with my cell phone.  I was mesmerized.  The wonderful and gracious Sheila Williams and Brian Bieniowski showed me around the Asimov's digs, and I even got a close look at several of the Hugo Awards that seemed to be scattered all over the place.  Sheila and Brian ended up taking me out to a great restaurant for a wonderful lunch and conversation.  I was very nervous at first, but they're both such genuinely nice people that it didn't take long for the butterflies to leave my stomach, and I could actually eat.   :) 

Sheila attended the play later that night with a friend, and I noticed them front and center in the audience.  All in all, it was a great cap to a great year.