Sep. 12th, 2004

ange: (ricci (cimorene))
Still here.  And you know that show I mentioned, once, ages ago?  The one about mountains and climbing them and getting down again? The one with the hours of rehearsal and writing and rewriting and climbing ropes and falling down them again, and the stress and sweat and fret?  Well, it didn't kill me, hallelujah. 

In fact, it was beautiful, if absolutely fucking terrifying.  On the first night, I swept backstage after my opening scene and crouched behind the wall to listen to the first monologue with my eyes screwed shut so tightly I saw spots.  I prayed, man.  Then the audience started laughing and didn't stop, and I can't even tell you what a relief it was.  It was like my skin wasn't big enough for me anymore.  The audience kept laughing for the entire four night run (well.  Less on the second night, but that's because the second night always sucks.  I've never been in a show where the second night didn't suck.  This particular second night didn't suck ass, is what I'm saying.)  and, phew.  Validation!  The show was good, my writing doesn't suck, my friends are brilliant and D is a genius. 

Read this.  She's more articulate about this stuff than I am.

So that's what I've been doing.  Now, for the first time in weeks, I'm going to make a coffee and sit down with some fiction.  Bless it.

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