Last night marked the
opening of Inked Baby. It was a fun night. I felt good about everything. And I'm really proud of everyone who worked on the production. The experience was a lovely way to enter the American theater scene.
I was on the train back to school this evening and spotted someone reading the review in a shall-remain-nameless paper. This whole review thing is crazy for several reasons, but let me preface by saying I'm not reading anything for a while. I need to chil-lax. I'm exhausted. And, frankly, the work and the process is bigger than reviews. I got the gist of 'em earlier today from my agent. I will admit I'm relieved because it sounds like we (me and the theater and the cast and the crew) delivered a nice introduction to the kind of story-telling I do. Not every reviewer thought it was a success, but at least they know who I am and what I do. I'm slowly building a vocabulary as a writer, a vocabulary that I'm sharing and building with my artistic peers and ancestors, and theater audiences. So, it feels like a nice spread of appreciation.
It was (and continues to be) crazy seeing the press and photos. I was excited and terrified to see that commuter on the train reading the review. That moment made me fully acknowledge the other side of this game. I've been doing the writing thing for a while (relatively speaking), but other aspects (press, publicity, praise, criticism, the
business part of "show business") were palpable in a matter of weeks. Insane.
All that aside, I learned a lot from this process. My time working at Playwrights Horizons upheld the importance of productions for new playwrights. The journey of a new play production--from typing the first word to the curtain call of the final performance--was a lesson in collaboration with folks behind the scenes and in the theater seats.
So now I eat Chinese food, and watch
The Transporter.
Yay to all good things.
Yay to making good theater.
Yay to telling good stories.
Yay to good fried vegetable dumplings!