We All Float Down Here, Georgie…
In theater, there’s always that final week before you open the show. You know, the week when everything goes wrong, the technical people (lights and sound mostly) are still working out the kinks while the actors (who are no longer allowed to call for their line) desperately struggle to remember their lines and blocking. It kind of reminds me of how the final edit of a book runs.
There’s a trick to the relationship an author has with their book, especially one they wrote a long time before. How did their main character decide things then? What was the author thinking. What the heck was the author thinking???
It’s difficult to justify just why you do something. Time is a heartless guttersnipe, and she’s almost as bad as the Prophet Murphy. Looking on work you wrote a few years back even makes you scratch your head in wonder. It’s even more fun when you look back and your program can’t recognize the file type you used. Now those are fun moments.
Yes, A Bad Year For Tomatoes opens tomorrow night. Yes, I’m a little nervous. This is my biggest role to date.
Yes, I realize I’m babbling. Enjoy the rest of your week. I’m not certain if I will post again this week. Check back Friday.