Saturday, October 13 -- Aftermath

When my mother goes to the lake, this is how she makes coffee: she takes an old enamel coffee pot that doesn't have the basket in it any more, boils some water in it, and then puts several scoops of coffee in and boils it. I'm not sure how long she boils it; you'd have to ask her. That's the best I can describe Opening Night. It was like trying to swallow a big mouthful of her lake coffee before the grounds settle.You have to let the grounds settle, see? Or it's not even like coffee at all and you burn your tongue.

Just as we entered the building Rick Chafe told me "for at least the first twenty minutes you'll be wondering what play you're watching." Turned out to be true like so many things Rick says. It was an out-of-body experience. Bob and the cast did a magnificent job. I was worried about those actors in the scenes on the bridge and oh - my brother Glenn told me at intermission that what he and his friends used to do in Chippawa was run all the way across the bridge during a break in traffic and VAULT over the rail to dive in. Holy crap. Mum doesn't know about that though, so don't tell her.
So many people I didn't get a chance to talk to in the lobby after. I barely talked to my mother, I never had a decent moment with Bob. My whole loving family was there and most of our neighbourhood and lots of lovely friends (there really are no people like show people). They sold out of both The Brink and Selkirk Avenue beers which can only mean that Bruce McManus and I are now officially two of the cool kids. Everyone's been so kind and nice helping me along through all of this.

 

The whole next day I was what the youngsters describe as "a hot mess." Wondering what that was all about, and why would anyone put themselves through that kind of highly stressful, ridiculously vulnerable experience, etc. It must be because you just have to see if you can get something across. You're just built that way or something. Then I got an email forwarded to me by my brother Murray. One of his curling buddies had been at the show and wrote to say his father was a Hong Kong vet and he wished his Dad had lived to see the show because the story isn't told outside of history books, and not much there either. So there's a good reason to do something like this. And maybe it will be more comfortable, or at least more familiar next time? I don't know. Next time?

I'm starting to get my skin put back on and I got a little sleep. Looking forward to seeing it again soon. Now that the grounds are starting to settle it is starting to taste more like coffee. This is a cup of joe for which I am profoundly grateful.

And I think this might be the end of this blog.

Tuesday, October 9 - Day Twenty-Nine, Two Days Before Opening Night

RobYn Slade & Evan Hall, photo by Bruce Monk

"Are you excited?"

Everybody I talk to is asking me that. I keep saying "yeeeesssss..." because I am excited but it's more complicated than that. I was feeling mostly terrifically anxious until Saturday or so, when the SUPREMELY IMPORTANT QUESTION "what am I going to wear?" was finally settled. I'm going to wear heels for sure. It might help to feel tall. And about that same time, the cast went into tech runs and dress rehearsals and it is really too late to do anything about any of it now, so time to let all of it go as best I can. This play might suck. But at least in a couple of days I'm going to know.  It's a long time to wonder, while writing a play, how people might respond. There is no real way to know until...you know. One of my treasured advisers said "Even if it's everything bad a play can be, it won't change anything important. You will still love the people you love. They will still love you."

I'm kind of curious what I'll find to think about after all this. Maybe, I don't know, maybe I'll think about serious things going on in the world. Maybe I'll think about other people, wouldn't that be something? I follow the rehearsal schedule from home and the team has been plenty busy. Hope they're doing all right.  Hope they're not too tired, but I know they are.

 

Okay. Yes, I'm excited.

Wednesday, October 3 -- Day Twenty-Three

Went to PTE again today and sat in on a run-through of Act Two before I was called away to have my picture taken with a bunch of beer bottles. Boy, did that take me back. If you don't already know about the beer bottles I will tell you: in honour of PTE's 40th, Half Pints Brewery has made commemorative beer labels for two of their fine products. There are seven labels, each commemorating a different PTE show. So you will be able to come to PTE and order a Secret Mask beer, or a Selkirk Avenue beer. How cool is that? And you can even "Drink The Brink."

Speaking of Opening Night. I plan not to Drink The Brink until the lobby clears out most of the way. I have a feeling I'll need to keep my wits about me. What am I supposed to wear, do you mind telling me that? One friend advises me to avoid Looking Like I'm Trying Too Hard. As it turns out, this is a look that takes a considerable amount of effort to achieve. I showed my daughter a dress I was thinking of and she vetoed it on the spot. "You are NOT wearing THAT." Back to the drawing board.

Later today at PTE today I spent a pleasant half-hour telling Kevin Prokosh all about everything. Then I watched a whole run of Act Two, and it's looking good. Real good. It's still magic to me when you write some stuff down on paper and then they do it, and it looks very much like it did in your head, and better. The rehearsal hall is a wonderful place. And I can honestly say that this whole experience has done nothing to diminish my love of theatre. I'll have to get jaded another time.

Tuesday, October 2 -- Day Twenty-Two

It Bears Repeating:

At the Season Launch last night (which is when the donors are invited to hear Bob's overview of the season to come, over wine and cheese ) ,I was standing around the lobby feeling awkward. Then I noticed that they were short-handed behind the bar and was more than happy to pitch in. It gave me something to do, and Bruce Michalski (PTE's Publicity Coordinator) is good fun. I used to tend a little bar years ago, quite badly, and when my turn came to speak to the donors, it seemed appropriate to thank them for donating to PTE so that I could have a career in my chosen field and not have to tend bar. It bears repeating; thank you, donors.

A woman in the audience was kind enough to tell me that she "vividly" remembers two shorter pieces I wrote, one of them at least fifteen years ago. The other piece - I'd kind of forgotten about it - was a Short Shot about a guy wiring a Jeanne Cake with explosives and threatening to take out the whole airport unless the Jets were brought back, so that must have been a few years ago too. There may not always be hockey, but there will always be Jeanne Cakes. It was nice to feel I'd made a connection with an audience member way back when.

Wednesday, September 26 - Day Sixteen

There's nothing like it: putting in a five hour writing day on a scene you are determined to finally, finally get right. And then listening to your respected colleagues read it aloud (twice) and coming to the realization that not only haven't you made it much better, you may in fact have made it slightly worse. While the room fills with the faint, unmistakable smell of your own limitations. Nothing like it.

The rest of the afternoon was spent swearing in traffic and bursting into tears while trying to make supper. I think I might be a bit stressed.

But the nice, nice thing that happened today was going into the theatre and seeing the bridge for the first time. It's stunning, and I wish I had room to put it in my garden after.

You know, that scene is probably okay. It's just that I was trying for better than okay.

Tuesday, September 25 -- Day Fifteen

Talk about life imitating art. I can't go into too much detail about what happened at lunch today for fear of giving away some things that happen in the play. But it was pretty funny.

PTE provided the staff and cast with a nice pizza lunch today, with cake for the people with September birthdays and gifts for people celebrating milestone years working at this fine place. So we had a good time sitting around the big table. Alana was happy because 650 of the 1000 receipt books required for the show had arrived (sorry about the props by the way). They look like receipt books but they're blank and after the run is over, will be given to everyone to use as scratch pads or little tiny sketchbooks. We quickly discovered a small error on the front of the books, and from that moment, the conversation played out very much like the dialogue in the play. " Did you see this? Who proofed this?" Bob - just to keep the drama going like a good director should - tried to make everyone believe that Brian (the designer) was going to be really mad about it. Turns out the finger of blame is pointing right at Brian himself. For added entertainment value, this particular error prompted a series of wisecracks about male sexual performance drugs. What was the error? Well, I can't tell you that because it would spoil all your fun trying to find it when you come to the play. If you spot the error, you win a little tiny sketchbook.

Spent most of the day on that same benighted scene I've been trying to fix for months. Think it's maybe 10 to 15 percent better: we'll find out tomorrow. At the end of the day today I had the pleasure of watching a run of Act Two. The boys made me cry. And here I thought my days of boys making me cry were behind me.