My latest play is the result of my misunderstanding a(n) historian. And it's being read tonight at Plan-B Theatre here in Salt Lake by some really great actors, helped out by a great director and sound designer/stage manager.
I am a nervous mess, but that is to be expected knowing me.
Several months ago, almost as soon as tickets were made available, they were gone. People got on the wait list, and the wait list soon filled up.
The wait list is full. Do these people not know what they're in for? Draft 2.5 of a meditation on sin, memory, and loneliness in the American West. Ha. How's that for a thesis title? Perhaps I shouldn't make light of it now, considering people could read this and decide not to show up tonight...
Who knows what is going to happen? This play is both stranger than anything I've done before and just like a lot of things I've done before. Poor Emilie Starr, playing the protagonist, is on stage the entire time. I do not give her a break, and she runs through the full gamut of emotion out there, alone on the frontier that will someday be Nevada. Haunted by the wind and talking to God.
While it's weird, I do like the play and I would love to see go to the next level because it's different than other stuff out there (at least, I hope it is). I have been applying to a lot of workshops with it in hopes that someone somewhere else might read it and see potential in it. So far, though, that hasn't worked out; I've got a pile of rejections that's probably only going to grow. I don't quite know what to do with this play, but I guess for the moment I'll go to the reading and see whether or not an audience of 66 people thinks I'm totally nuts.