Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Santa, Mentor, prayers

The one thing I never had sense enough to ask for, to wish for, and the most important thing I never had- is a mentor.

This is my own fault. I don't ask or pray for anything I really want. I think I pray like I sometimes audition- tentatively, lacking confidence-- and we all know you never get the part if you aren't bursting with confidence, if you aren't "owning the room." Well, suffice to say I don't think I own the room when I pray.

I tentatively pray and wish for dreams to come true and for luck to be bestowed, tentatively, in the way (I am afraid) I believe in God- a little scared to pray for the wrong thing, afraid to seem selfish, ridiculous, to want a break when God must have so many things to do that are so much more important than what stupid little request I have that has to do with accomplishment, earning a living, getting my work out there, paying off my debts quicker than the way I am doing them now. I fear I am childlike when I pray, thinking of God as a kind of Santa Claus, with only one night to deliver all the goods to all the children of the world--a busy Santa, only with everyone asking for everything, not just a few toys.

And so the most important thing I never asked for is a mentor. But putting my work out there for judgement and interpretation did bring me a much needed mentor experience at the beginning.

I was writing about George and Scheherazade yesterday. And that my Helen was married to George and the first actress who played her...well, in rehearsals I could tell she was all wrong, that she was just playing crazy and mean. I told the actress that Helen LOVED George, she LOVES him. I told the actress that she was just playing someone horrible and mean. She loved him. "Play it like you love him", I directed this professional actress.

The actress (surprisingly) didn't sock me in the mouth, but instead asked "where in the script did you hide the fact that she loves George? If you want me to play her that way, then leave me a damn clue in the script to play her that way, why don't you?"

She was right. I had hidden the LOVE for George underneath the hateful and angry words I'd written for Helen to say. There was not a clue anywhere in the script. I knew what made Helen tick, but nobody else did.

Then she added, "well, it's your job to tell me what makes Helen tick IN THE SCRIPT."

It was exactly what I needed as a playwright and as a human being.

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