As an Imperfect Actor on the Stage
In the thirty some years I was on the stage, I seldom got stage fright. If anything, I felt empowered by the mask of playing another character. I have had auditions when I would freak out. But when it came to performing, there is only one show that terrified me.
It’s the most recent of my acting memory. When I played Lesly in The House of Yes, I would be shaking onstage. I have no doubt a huge part of that was the fact I had to strip down to my underwear. On the Hovey stage. Where the audience is so close you can feel the heat from their bodies. I was more disciplined with my running habit, so the necessity was less daunting… but I was the closest to naked I’ve ever been on a stage. Then again, it wasn’t just the clothing. I had to strip down emotionally in that play, too. Lesly wasn’t the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. I hate playing stupid – even for a part. But she had raw emotion. So raw she cheated on her fiancé with his brother. And then forgave her fiancé only to see him murdered in the end. (Sorry if I spoiled the play for you. You should still go see it if you ever get a chance. Witty.)
Anyway… other than that, I’ve not really understood the panic of getting up on a stage and pretending. Because… it is pretend. It is escape. It is using someone else to be yourself. For me. I completely get that it isn’t that way for everyone. Actor friends, I get it.
I get it, because I am terrified about letting an audience see my writing. Scared shitless. Because it’s worse than being on a stage in nothing but a Victoria Secret slip or crying behind a scrim. It’s my words, my thoughts, my characters, my emotion. Even though it still isn’t real. It’s probably more fiction than some of the acting I’ve done. But the idea of letting people in to judge my creation is the most petrifying thing I’ve ever done.
But I want it more than anything. Voraciously. I want the world to read my novel(s). I want an audience to my chapters, to my syntax, my style, my dramatis persona, my heart. Here I claim my Leonine sense of self importance. I want the world to look at me… in my book.
The trick is channeling the fear and the desire into a productive result. I feel like all my thoughts and ideas and contemplations are a tempest of confusion. But… the cliché holds true as all clichés do. The things that terrify us most are what yield the best reward. Because in spite of the trembling every night, I loved playing Lesly. Enough that if I never play another part in my life, I feel like I’ve acted enough. But if I ever go back to it, I have the accomplishment of that to take with me. Because I met that fear and kicked its ass.
It’s the most recent of my acting memory. When I played Lesly in The House of Yes, I would be shaking onstage. I have no doubt a huge part of that was the fact I had to strip down to my underwear. On the Hovey stage. Where the audience is so close you can feel the heat from their bodies. I was more disciplined with my running habit, so the necessity was less daunting… but I was the closest to naked I’ve ever been on a stage. Then again, it wasn’t just the clothing. I had to strip down emotionally in that play, too. Lesly wasn’t the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. I hate playing stupid – even for a part. But she had raw emotion. So raw she cheated on her fiancé with his brother. And then forgave her fiancé only to see him murdered in the end. (Sorry if I spoiled the play for you. You should still go see it if you ever get a chance. Witty.)
Anyway… other than that, I’ve not really understood the panic of getting up on a stage and pretending. Because… it is pretend. It is escape. It is using someone else to be yourself. For me. I completely get that it isn’t that way for everyone. Actor friends, I get it.
I get it, because I am terrified about letting an audience see my writing. Scared shitless. Because it’s worse than being on a stage in nothing but a Victoria Secret slip or crying behind a scrim. It’s my words, my thoughts, my characters, my emotion. Even though it still isn’t real. It’s probably more fiction than some of the acting I’ve done. But the idea of letting people in to judge my creation is the most petrifying thing I’ve ever done.
But I want it more than anything. Voraciously. I want the world to read my novel(s). I want an audience to my chapters, to my syntax, my style, my dramatis persona, my heart. Here I claim my Leonine sense of self importance. I want the world to look at me… in my book.
The trick is channeling the fear and the desire into a productive result. I feel like all my thoughts and ideas and contemplations are a tempest of confusion. But… the cliché holds true as all clichés do. The things that terrify us most are what yield the best reward. Because in spite of the trembling every night, I loved playing Lesly. Enough that if I never play another part in my life, I feel like I’ve acted enough. But if I ever go back to it, I have the accomplishment of that to take with me. Because I met that fear and kicked its ass.
Comments
And no, it hasn't gotten any less terrifying yet.