Yesterday, Mother’s Day, was the 5 hour dress rehearsal for my 2 hour show. I’m such a theatre geek that when the lights went down and the incidental music started, I got a little teary-eyed. This happens to me a lot, and not just at my own shows. Sitting in a dark house, right before a play starts, there’s just so much potential. Anything might happen on that stage. You might laugh, you might cry, but you’re going to share something with a bunch of people who are sitting there with you, pretending with you that what’s happening in this great big room is some version of life.
My bunch of people consisted of me, my director, our assistant director, the artistic director of the company producing the festival, the sound girl and the light guy. It still worked. I put down my pen and let myself be pulled in, which was a little tough, knowing the story the way I do.
I feel a heart-swelling amount of gratitude to the 8 people who have brought the show this far (6 actors, director and AD). I could wrap each of them in an overlong hug after every rehearsal, but I think it would lose its impact.
We ran the show, took a break, and ran the first act again. It’s going to be good.
I thought I was going to have to say goodbye to this group and this script (for a while, at least) come closing on June 3rd, but now it looks like it has a chance for life after workshop. So I’m taking a deep breath, and pinning my hope to my will, and I’m gonna try to make that happen.