Feelin’ feelings today, folks.
My show closed yesterday afternoon. And it was great. Of course it was great- everyone involved made darned sure that it was- but it’s a mix of happy/sad/other for me right now.
Part of me still can’t believe that a show I wrote (and re-wrote and punched and twitched at) became this fully realized thing that people- some people whom I never ever even knew– showed up to watch and laugh and applaud. It boggles.
Then there’s the aspect that this play had been solely mine. Like, every word. Every character. Every ill-advised scene change. The lines didn’t exist outside of me speaking at my laptop [and P.J.], but then I handed them all over to my director and actors and production team. And the play changed- it had to change- and it became theirs. Dialogue that the director heard differently than I did and conveyed it to actors who filtered it through their own minds and experiences and performers’ toolboxes. There were lines that they personalized. Riffed upon. Things that worked (or didn’t work) and became hilarious [inside] jokes. Stuff was reimagined by designers, creating a living space for the characters that simply didn’t exist in my imagination.
And it was wonderful. It was.
But it was also rather sad. Because along with handing the play over came the inevitable stepping back. And it was necessary. Because everyone else involved needed to feel like they could say or do whatever they had to to make this show awesome. (And it’s wicked hard to do that when the playwright is weeping in the corner, shrieking “That is INCORRECT!” For example.)
So then it became theirs. And while it was still wild and heady to see this play come to life, it was fully bizarre to hear someone I didn’t know discussing the show in proprietary tones with someone else I didn’t know (who also had a few proprietary tones).
I imagine it’s akin to when your college-aged kiddo comes home for break with her new roommate in tow and you get to hear “Your daughter is so funny- did you know how funny she is?” And you want to be all like- Seriously? Of course I know how funny she is. I grew her and helped form her speech patterns. You’ve known how funny she is for about fifteen seconds, don’t talk to me about my kid like I’ve never even heard her do that weird monster voice.
(But you refrain from saying these things aloud, for you will absolutely be misunderstood and sound like a psychopathic emotion-monger.)
So yeah. My show closed this weekend. And it was good.
It was.
Speak Your Mind