The home stretch
I had resolved the other day not to change any more lines, but then a few more little cuts emerged in my head yesterday. I don't think I'm going to pass them onto the actors until later as I feel my little adjustments this close to the first performance will only cause confusion and distress among those who must memorize them. And hey, this is not about me anymore, so stop it Peter, with your incessant tweaking. I am beginning to feel generally useless at rehearsal. I take notes and email them to Tracy, eat cookies, and repeat all the lines in my head from the play. I think I have about 75% of the show memorized. I even know when they're paraphrasing. That's a lot of brain capacity dedicated to knowing how I constructed sentences and chose words. Oh boy. Time to move on.
The set is being erected at The Thick House as we speak. There is much talk of sturdy two by fours, general structural awesomeness, bad art construction, and finding a couch that doesn't take up too much precious floor space. I am trying to not to head down there and peek. I want to be dazzled by the near finished piece. But maybe I should help paint or something. And, hey, if you have a modernist two-person love seat laying around, let me know.
The performances have really grown in the last week as we do more runs and character arcs begin to really emerge. Of course, they still need an audience, and to hear how and what they'll react to. It's the missing piece we never get until the performances, and I feel like it is such an essential part to the play. I think lots will change and mature in the next week of tech and previews. The cast and crew has been so awesome.
I am starting to have a little tense stomach going. I get more nervous as writer for an opening than I did as an actor. Much more. I need a massage. I'm feeling good and confident, but hot tubs and rubbing seem essential tools for sanity right now.
Oo and some coffee!