Last night, my play was one of the ones that was read in front of an audience.When I wrote it, I hoped at least one person would get something from it. I thought there would be one question about my friend, since I wrote it in memory of her.
As I watched it performed, I felt like I was giving a presentation only the actors were speaking my words and I was unable to have any control over how things went.
What I never expected was an audience that had many people that wanted to talk about it.
I was both happy about and absolutely mortified by this. There is nothing that feels more vulnerable than talking about your art. Inside, I was pretty much wanting to run away. For weeks before this, I'd think about what to say to any questions and I'd cry. I was worried about that.
I kept it together though. Somehow. I think that may have been because stage lights were blinding me and perhaps I went into the automatic mode from my old acting days? My friend who came said I didn't look nervous at all. I felt like Wonder Woman, but also like a bug that could be squished at any moment.
What I've come away with because of this experience is a realization that I have a great responsibility in what I create. And yes, that realization came to me in Stan Lee's voice, which is soooo geeky, but also awesome!
The words we write matter and that's why it's even more disgusting that journalism has gone the way it has.
So what's next? Well, I got amazing feedback from the audience and the director. I'm going to extend the play and also make another based off this one that is in a different format that will work better for the ten minute window. Then I'll enter it in contests and see what happens.
Whatever comes of that will inform what will happen with it after that.
And that's how life's river flows today.
R~
Comments
Post a Comment