Dancing with Skeletons

It's been a lonely couple of weeks in the rehearsal hall since the end of my last play. Devoid of actors, sets, etc, I've been playing to the barn cats (who are the most fickle of critics) as I try to do something I've never done before. It's been an interesting process to say the least, not simply due to being alone in what is usually a collaborative space. This show is all about digging up bones. 

I knew this might happen when I wrote this play. For all my ability to look back now and laugh at all of the stupid things that I've done over the years, and laugh at myself about all the things that I thought were so important, it has still meant disturbing a lot of things that were buried in my past: shamings, regrets, missed opportunities, and times when I simply failed at life. And it's not just the stuff that's in the play that tortures my mind - there's some doozies that actually didn't make the cut, things that will only ever come out in the "less than sober" version of the show. 

So why am I doing this to myself? Certainly the show isn't likely to make much money, in fact I'm not sure if I'll even make the entry fee back. I doubt any theatre producers are going to see this and pick it up for a national tour. In fact, many of the people in the audience will know me, and many will probably have their own recollections of my mistakes, of which this show will certainly remind them. And I don't even feel the need to get these stories off my chest, to unburden myself of some great secrets. After all, theatre is such a public forum that all mistakes usually end up visible to someone: the cast, the director, the audience, or anyone else with judgemental eyes. 

But for all that, I feel a great peace when I rehearse this show, when it's flowing well and I get the cadence of the words just right. It feels... right. Like this is the right time to do this. For some reason I don't think it would mean as much if I did this show twenty years from now. I think we're living in a moment of transition, and I feel like this show is a way to put some kind of frame on the past - not a box to shove it in, not a way to hide it, but a way to frame it, to give it some context, to maybe make it make a little bit of sense to people, and to me. And of course, it's a way to take one last dance with the skeletons in my closet, before they fade away forever. 

Opening night is this Thursday, with shows on Saturday afternoon and evening as well. Get your tickets here.