Playing Catch Up: Part I of V

So do I go back to the beginning, or start randomly at somepoint that suits my fancy? Hmm... could go either way. Sitting here at Keaton's working on the Blackbird. I'll get to that later.

Such a whirlwind of a month. January. The reason the blog became more than a bit anemic was simply because that was the busy version of me. But then what isn't? January, and 2008, brought with it an exciting debut and enough theatre to rival the days of "Darkside" simulcasting with "Van Gogh".

Let's start at the beginning.

On a chilly January 10, a Friday, I took the day off work. For that day would be a special day for many reasons. It began with me having the distinct pleasure of welcoming a friend of mine into town. Hmm... she needs a moniker, doesn't she? This one I'll steal. I'm in that kinda mood (a good stealing mood).

So Paros came to town. I won't sit here and retell this as a journal post, as I'm not good at those. But the day was filled with good friends and fun and living. And new clothes. Which to some is a form of existence in and of itself. I was just happy that as evening fell, I would not look like a complete tool. And that was the magic of Paros working her... uh, magic. I write real good.

And then came the night. Opening night. And wow... as a writer, as a playwright, it was rewarding.

The 2008 Curtain Players Playwrights Festival premiered with my full-length play, "Separation Anxiety". As the lights started to dim, the rush was nice. Very nice.

Cole Simon and Amanda Cawthorne as Bailey and Jess in "Separation Anxiety"

I've been writing since I could write, literally. My earliest tales took on the epic, like retelling Greek myths and rewriting the tall tales of American lore. And then I turned 9 and decided to be more original. Somewhere along the way I stepped out on the elegance of pure prose and began dabbling more and more with a mistress called dialogue. And I gotta say, she's a good lay.

I love to play with speech patterns. To adapt them. To find them. And yes, sometimes it's not pretty. But then sometimes it doesn't have to be. But when it's just right, when it becomes "real" to the ear and when an actor nails it in front of you. That's the rush. And if you're lucky, it starts at curtain and doesn't dissipate until long after the final bow.

This wasn't the first time I'd watched an actor deliver words I'd penned, but it was the first time I'd walked into it not knowing at all what to expect. Okay, I knew a little because I'm way too curious for my own good and I just happened to drop by the theater during tech week. You know, on my way to somewhere else.

Those who know my theater are laughing. It's not "on the way" to anywhere (except Fracasso's pizza), so it's pretty absurd that I basically drove a half hour out of my way to "pop by". Yeah. But I only watched one scene and then bolted. And at the point I was psyched to see it come to life en masse.

I have a great urge to let looose a gutteral cry of victory and satisfaction. I'm still pumped, just thinking about it.

After the show (opening night) we went to another pizza place as a group. It felt like graduation day. There were so many people there and I spent most of the night making the rounds because that's what I do at these functions. But before I ramble on and on, why don't I focus my energies on just reveling in what was an awesome weekend.

Good friends from out of state made the trip to see the show open. Paros and Snowflake were competing for the farthest distance traveled. And one of my cousins that I hadn't seen in forever happened to show up. That was really a good surprise.

The Festival did a great thing in that it bolstered my confidence I'm bound and determined, more than I was. More plays will be written. That will not let this be the last time I feel those rushes. Or live that deliberately.