Tom Petty Called It the Hardest Part

I’ve said it before and, ruefully, I will say it again; my life is boring.  This shouldn’t be possible, of course – surely I have things going on?  And indeed, as an actor, a writer, and a theatrical programmer, I happen to have a lot going on at this particular moment.  But as we all should know, theatre is a collaborative art form; once I’m past the stage of wrestling by myself with a new script, I need assistance, feedback or favors from other people.  Which means waiting on people for responses to emails, or texts, or what have you.

And waiting.

This week, after a few months back in person, the Tuesdays at Nine reading series returns to zoom to close out the season with another crossover event, with all four of our member cities.  This means that for the first time in four months, we’ve had to cast this Tuesday’s readings in advance, coordinating with each other as to which city covers which role, and emailing and texting actors (something I haven’t had to do for three months) to confirm their zoom participation.

As I’m submitting this post on Monday morning, I’m still waiting on the final confirmations to come in, after spending all of last night typing, and texting..and, most of all, sitting and waiting.

My other playwriting group is putting together a themed compilation of short one-acts, with an eye to either publishing or producing them sometime in the fall.  I say “either” because we’re supposed to have a planning meeting about this – again over zoom, since it can be hard to coordinate the in-person schedules of a bunch of writers plus there is still a goddam pandemic going on people.  Well, we are still planning on the planning meeting – arrangements for one last night were cancelled, so once again we are emailing and messaging each other to figure out options.  And sitting at our laptops, waiting.

Next month, I’m happy to report, I’ll be attending the Valdez Theatre Conference in Valdez, Alaska, where my play An Arctic Confederate Christmas is being read.  I don’t yet know orecisely who will be reading the piece, however – since they’re still finalizing details on their end (which is always a tricky business, no doubt made more so by the fact that there is still a goddam pandemic going on people.  Likewise, I don’t know which plays I myself will be performing – I’ve let them know I’m happy to serve as an actor as well, so I’m waiting on casting emails not only for my own piece, but for an indeterminate number of my fellow playwrights’ pieces as well.  I’m also waiting on finalizations for transportations, and any number of errands related to the trip – all of which are conversations in progress, in which all I can presently do is sit at my desk, and wait for an email.

And wait.

I suppose it’s comforting, in a way, that in such an unsettling and uncertain time I can find away to actually be bored.  But the thing of it is, with deadlines drawing ever nearer and that familiar feeling of dread as time ticks away, the waiting manages not to be remotely boring at all.

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