In related news, I’m working on a number of short plays to submit to the next set, “Long Ago and Far Away.” And they’re coming along well.

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Anyway, Prodigal Son is going to run about 45 minutes long — by far the longest play in the set — and so we’re rehearsing Monday through Friday for the next few weeks. It’s intense (not to mention that the actors need to be off-book by next Wednesday), and I still really have no idea what I’m doing as far as the directing goes, but I’m diving in headfirst and we’ll see how it turns out.

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It’s not about the money. It’s not even about winning, really. It’s about the joy of theatre, of words and acting and stories, of humanity. Even though I didn’t really participate in the production — I wrote the script, submitted it, and then sat back and let them do their thing — even though I was a clockmaker playwright, I still felt a wonderful sense of community with all the other playwrights and actors and directors and everyone else who helped out. I love theatre.

Which doesn’t mean it’s been a bed of roses. (And by the way, I’m not sure a bed of roses is all that great. I mean, the petals would get squished all over as soon as you got in, and the smell would be a bit overpowering, and doesn’t the pigment in flowers rub off on you, too?) Saturday, for example, I kept seeing all the faults in my script (lines I wish I’d written differently), and I have to admit that it got me down. I almost vowed to stop writing plays entirely — with fiction and poetry, you don’t have to see it acted out in front of everyone, it stays safely on the page. Less embarrassing if it goes wrong. But then by Sunday I was itching at the bit again to finish this new play and submit it. It’s been an emotional rollercoaster, really — nothing like dating, but still a lot of ups and downs.

We have a talkback session after each performance, and usually all of the questions have been directed at other plays, because all but mine had a deeper meaning and thus provided more fodder for discussion. Tonight, though, something bizarrely switched, and almost all of the questions were about Snowstorm. Unexpected but fun. I’m realizing that even though I usually don’t like being up in front of large groups of people, I can do this. I even like it.

So anyway, the submission deadline for the next festival is tomorrow at midnight. (If you’d like to submit something — and you really ought to — you can check out the website.) I’ve got one play which is mostly done (and the title keeps changing so I’ll leave it anonymous), and then Saturday around noon I was walking down the hill south of campus and came up with another idea which I’m also going to try to write by tomorrow night. Lots of writing, but it’s worth it. Oh, it’s worth it.

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As far as today’s performances went, the whole afternoon show was a bit flat — the audience wasn’t very energized, and it affected the acting — but the evening show was great. I wonder if evening shows usually do better than matinees…

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I could’ve gone to both the rehearsals and the runthroughs, yes, but I wanted to see what it’s like to pull back all the way and let the director and the cast have full rein over the play. Cold turkey.

And all afternoon I’ve felt precisely like a cold turkey. It was a month and a half ago that I submitted my script, and in all honesty I hadn’t looked at it since. I didn’t remember if the play was even any good. And the performance itself wouldn’t just be my script — it would be the script clothed in flesh and blood, brought to life. Words on a page are one thing; words on a stage, another. Anxiety rode piggyback in my gut all evening.

Having watched the whole show, though, I’m happy to report that it actually turned out really well. There are nine plays total (though three of them are pretty much the same play broken up into three parts), and mine’s the middle one, right after intermission. (Which meant I was almost too nervous during the whole first half to enjoy it properly. Luckily there are two more performances tomorrow.)

The funny thing is that it’s been so long since I read the script that I kept thinking, “Oh, wow, they added that. And that. And that.” And I just went back and re-read the script and almost every line I thought they added was actually there in the script. Fancy that. (The cast and director really did do a great job with it, and they added some extra blocking that worked out wonderfully. I’m pleased.)

During the talkback session I realized that mine was the only play without some kind of deeper meaning. It’s pure fluff. Entertaining cotton candy. (Not that I think a little of that isn’t bad. My next play is about a girl who finds out she’s going blind, so I’m getting a nice mix of light and heavy in.)

Anyway, the nine plays run about an hour and a half, with an optional talkback session afterwards (which lasts around half an hour). If you’re in Provo and are free at 3:30 or 7:30 tomorrow, it’s at Provo Theatre Company (105 E. 100 N.) and is $5/person. And if you’re not free, that’s totally fine — they’ll be recording the matinee tomorrow and I’m hoping I can get a copy and upload it so the rest of you can see it.

In summary: it’s scary as heck to see your script acted out — I’ve felt like a shaved poodle all afternoon and evening — but it’s so worth it.

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