A Christmas Carol, after New Years

All in all, my experience in ACC was a good one. Yes, I struggled with a few cast members. Yes, it was difficult to be in a show with my husband on the night that we were lovey dovey onstage and in a horrible fight backstage. I kept thinking of all those Russian ice skaters that had married and divorced their skating partners and still skated in every Winter Olympics. Tough gig...

I will say, being in a show about Christmas that played until six days before Christmas plus doing Santa and Mrs. Claus visits was really hard on our real holiday. We had our annual Christmas party on 'the night before the night before Christmas' (Dec 23rd.) The party was hilarious. ~Ahem~ None of my fellow actors from ACC, or any other show for that matter, came to the party. Thank goodness for family and close friends, especially from band!

We had our cast party the Saturday before closing night. It was a tough party. I am not a Band video game person, and I was so tired after the show. I was worried about Caden, but it turned out that he had a blast, even though he had struggled in the show, being the only teenager.

The highlights of the show:

• When Craig played Bob Cratchit for one night. He flubbed some lines, but he did so well! And all the Cratchit kids pitched in and helped him. It felt so right after having to play the loving Mrs. Cratchit opposite a guy who loathed me. (Can I act or what?)
• Having the best line in our sole review about me. Review will be posted in another blog post. Also, seeing my friend Steve Dunford, who reviewed the show. LOVE Steve!
• Working with my son as my son Mark (aka Martha in the novel) in the show. It was synergistically amazing.
• My kids in the show. I loved them like a mother would. Truly loved them.
• Remembering that purple is a good color on me.
• Using my own grief at Nathan's death to aid me in the Tiny Tim is dead scene. It actually helped me as a person to cry so often for Nathan. It had been a long time since I'd done any real crying over my son's death.
• Solidifying my friendship with Adam, making a new friend of the director, Cara Baker, another new friend in Lora Beth, the narrator, another friend in Kandi, strengthening my friendship with Sarah.
• Doing Caden's 'Mark' scene with Sarah when Caden had a concert. She cried along with me! Yeah Sarah!

Lessons Learned:

• I can act with people I don't like and feel unsafe around.
• I can be nice to my husband onstage when I'm furious with him.
• I can cry on demand.
• I can learn my lines quicker than I thought.
• I have good friends who came to my show.
• I can sing solos no prob. (Except the last night when I went flat. I had run out of gas by then.)
• I like nutty kids.
• I can take direction and only feel grateful for the input. And implement those suggestions.
• I like twirly long skirts.
• I need to be much more careful with my blogs. 
• I love Dickens.

Let's put it this way--I liked this so much I hope my guys and I can do a Christmas show together every year. 

Keep Playing! And God bless us, every one!

The Fringes of Theater ~or~ I am now a Consumed Actress –slash- Promoter

When I was actively pursuing becoming a published author, which will still happen one day, everything I did was fodder for my craft. I observed life as a running commentary. I narrated my life as I drove along, or walked the dogs, or did what the heck ever. I looked at everything in terms of  how to describe it through using my senses, what I could compare it to for a snappy metaphor or simile, how it would move the story along. Ad nauseum.

And now, I am Jennifer the Actress. So, everything I do is in some way promoting, enhancing, furthering my life as Theater Goddess.

Examples:

• I have all these contacts who are now being seen as sponsors for Spanish Fork Community Theater. How can they help us in our program? How much would you like to give this year? (Notice I didn't say "would you like to contribute?" but just--"how much?") 
•  I listen to songs and think, gee, that would make a great audition piece. Or, that would be so great as background music in such and such a scene. 
• I think costumes all the time--going to thrift stores to keep adding to my costume box of delights. Thinking, should I really get rid of this? I mean, it would be so cute if I played (fill in the blank.) 
• I am using my knack as pushy marketing person to get funding, donations, sponsors. It's like breathing to me to find strategies to get people to part with what they have to support what I have going. 
•  I want to become an eyelash extension putter-onner. There is a more technical term, oh that's probably it--technician--but it's late at night and I didn't think of it quickly. So I want to be an Eyelash Extension Technician and then I find myself planning: if I became an Eyelash Extension Technician, I could get so many clients in the theater world! You know what a bother it is to keep buying and putting on fake eyelashes, with all that glue nonsense and the fake eyelashes can come off during a performance, like one did when I was in "Hairspray" and I had to run frantically to find some glue so I didn't look like I was winking at the audience for the entire second act! Permanent(-ish) eyelashes would be so convenient, so confidence-building, such a time saver, blah da dee blah dee blah.

The idea that everything has a theater meaning is part of me now. My focus is--how does this affect me as an actress?

I admit, I still miss Jennifer the Author. But I have had more success as Jennifer the Actress in the relatively short time since last June when I auditioned for "Hairspray" than I ever did as Jennifer the Author. Jennifer the starving Author became Jennifer the successful Editor who never had time to write. True, I will probably make very little money as Jennifer the Actress, though you never really know, do you? But all the other stuff that goes along with it--well, there could be money there. And if not, there's always one more rewrite of Riding Magic, my horse girl novel that actually is pretty good.

Hey, maybe I can make it into a play.

Keep playing!

The Delicate Balance in the Small Pond

As I jump into the theater world in Utah with both feet and no water wings to keep me afloat, I am finding out that swimming around here can be a dangerous or a marvelous thing. Sometimes both. The people I have gotten to know overlap. Which is good and bad and just plain weird sometimes.

• Oh, you directed that show and now you're assistant director of the show I'm auditioning for and you worked with the person who was the star of my last show? Well, she and I were good friends. (Thinking: I think we were good friends. Were we? If so, maybe she'll put in a good word for me. If not, crap!) 
• Oh, you didn't know I reviewed that show? Yep, that was me. Yes, it was very good. (Thinking: Thank the Lord it was a show I praised.) 
• Oh, you will help me get that audition? Wow, you are such a pal. (Thinking: Am I good enough to warrant him going out on a limb for me?) 
• Oh, you like that director? Well, we'll never work for that company again. And so-and-so and this person and that guy will never work there again either! (Thinking: How can I stay friends with everyone when clearly it could become the 'whose side are you on?' thing. I want to get roles on my own merit and not be picked over because I'm friends with this or that person. Of course, I also want to get cast because, as friends, they know I can do the job. Oy!)

As a compulsive blurter, I know I've already stepped on some toes. 

Lesson Learned: Open your mouth and project like hell when you're onstage. Offstage, keep your yap shut. The latter will be a bigger challenge for me than doing the acting stuff.

Oy.

Keep Playing!

Costume Eyes

While discussing in a Facebook group about the fun and foibles of doing community theater in Utah (most topic discussed is how conservative theater goers freak out over the lamest things), I realized I have become a Real Community Theater Person because I have developed Costume Eyes.

Costume Eyes are not really eyeballs. It is an activity. Here's what happens:

1. You are cast in a community theater play.
2. You are asked to come up with at least some of your costume pieces.
3. You scout around in your own wardrobe to see what will work.
4. You realize that clothes you've had around forever can morph into something that would be worn years and even decades before.
5. You wear the clothing and suddenly, those pieces look only like the costume and you don't want to wear them anymore, even singly and not with the other parts you wore to put together the costume. Ie: two of the outfits I wore for Prudy (see photo) are skirts and sweaters I used to wear to church sometimes. I bought the mint-colored sweater and the brooch at a secondhand store. The scarf and the taupe-colored sweater are donations from a friend. Now, I look at the skirts, sweaters, scarf, and brooch and think: I can't wear those--they're Prudy's!
6. Here's the real proof when you have developed Costume Eyes. Everywhere you look, you scrutinize clothing, jewelry, makeup, shoes, everything you can possibly wear in terms of: will this work someday as a costume piece? Today I looked at some bracelets, a straw Fedora-type hat, and some fake eyelashes. I passed on them all as I figured I could get similar bracelets and hats at garage sales, and I will wait until the eyelashes go on sale after Halloween. But the point here is: I'M LOOKING!

I admit, I am delighted that I have (or would that be better described as do or display or participate in?) Costume Eyes because I feel like, once again, this acting bug is becoming a real part of me. I am beginning to anticipate getting cast again. I'm beginning to fantasize about what roles I will be performing someday in the future. I am beginning to get into it all in a way I never had to before.

And I am seriously loving this!

Keep playing! (and shopping!)

The Impossible Mystery--1--The Rehearsal that Wasn't ~OR~ Costume Fun!

I thought it was my night for rehearsal. I was sweating a little because I hadn't really even looked at my script. I play two speaking roles and am in one scene as Ensemble.

Roles:
Oba San--old, crotchety, mostly deaf Japanese grandmother
Lady Chattway--English society matron, presumably a widow, middle-aged, flighty and giggly
Ensemble in the Highlight Club scene--a speakeasy-type joint. I am a--what? Still figuring that one out.

So I walk into the backyard we rehearse in on Tuesday nights, smile on face, script on clipboard in hand.

Cami (director): What are you doing here, Jennifer?
Me (chump): I thought we were doing the Japanese scene.
Other actress in show: That's next week.
Anna (mentor, costumer, Cami's mother and owner of backyard): It's okay. We'll get you costumed.
Me (relieved): Well then, I'm here spreading love! (a little arm sweeping and curtsy)
Anna (kindly, as is her wont): We can always use more love!

I was then ushered to Anna's World of Wonder costume shed. Oh my goodness! Rack upon rack of clothes, necklaces on hooks, hats and bags on shelves, bins of glasses. I'm not even much of a girly girl, but hey, this was heaven.

Anna started holding dresses up in front of me: Oh, this will be darling for the Highlight Club scene. Isn't this cute?
I climb into peach dress and cape. It is adorable. She hands me a brightly flowered little bag and puts a little hat on my head--straw with ribbon and flowers, and we traipse out to Cami, who smiles, nods (meaning yes, that costume will work) and goes back to directing. I sweep back to the shed. One must always sweepingly walk when one wears a floor-length cape.
Anna: We have decided to go all out with the costumes--color and fun.
Me (thinking): No kidding! I am adorable! (cartwheeling in my head)


The next few outfits were either too small or not right. Anna told me not to get discouraged. I was far from that. I was playing dress up. This outfit doesn't work? Well, I'll try another. There are hundreds to choose from.

I went home to get a very cute, authentic velvet jacket that belonged to my mother. It will be Lady Chattaway's jacket. Anna found me a perfect blouse, checking to make sure it was just the right shade of beige, and we found a skirt that was okay. (Later, I found a better skirt in my own closet. Anna told me as long as it had flowers on it, it'd be great. The skirt is flowered, black, red, and yes, the right shade of beige, with a flouncy hem. As Anna would say: Darling!)

To go with the skirt, jacket, and blouse, Anna dug around and found me The Cutest Hat in the World. I can't describe it (it's black and cloth, but that says little about the cuteness factor) but pictures will come during the run of the show. I have some earrings that will go with the whole outfit. I am going to be the most delightful English Society Matron ever!

Then, Oba San's outfit. I had pictured some frumpy black or gray bathrobe. No! I have a multi-colored poncho to the floor that will look amazing with one of those Japanese black cumberbun belt thingies (still to be procured.) I will wear a Chinese pointy-on-the-top straw hat (still being found and yeah, it isn't authentic--what-ev-uh). I have decided to wear a purple, red, or green (if I can find it) scarf over my hair under the hat so my blonde hair won't give me away as me. (Old deaf grandmas aren't platinum blondes.) Anna found me some silky black pants to go under the silky dress thingie. It is really, really colorful. Rock on, Oba San!

I am 90% set. I am 100% excited.

Playing dress up with Anna is the most fun I've had in a long time!

Keep playing! And if possible, do it in style!

Hairspray reminiscences--3--I got it!

I can't remember specifically how long it was between when I went to the call back audition and when I got a call from Josh, the other assistant director. I do know it was longer than I had expected and I figured I didn't get the part. I was already talking myself into being a cool good sport ensemble member. I didn't like it, but I was going to be okay. Team player, that's me!

My phone rang--it was afternoon, after school, an unfamiliar number came up on my phone. Josh said something about being the assistant director, Hairspray, we'd like to offer you the part of Prudy Pingleton. I think he also said something about the director being there on a conference call or something? It's a bit fuzzy. I remember the jist of the info, but as soon as I knew what the call was about, I wanted to get off the phone immediately. First, I wanted to scream to my family about this. And I was so freaked, I literally needed to jump around. It's like I'd been shot with rocket fuel and I needed to take off--pronto!

I hope I said something  was gracious like, yes, I'd love to. But I just as easily could have said, "Hell yes. You kiddin' me?" I really don't remember. I did accept the part, I do know that. If Josh gave me any other info, I don't recall any of it. The rocket fuel was zipping through my body and my brain had completely turned off except for my ability to speak my native English language. At least I hope I did. I'll need to ask Josh sometime.

I do remember once I hung up the phone, I jumped up and down about ten times, screaming, "I got the part of Prudy! I got the part of Prudy!" I can still feel the exhilaration that infused me. It was like I was me one minute, and then next second I was me AND Prudy. It was that quick that I began to share myself with this unknown person.

I sent texts to everyone I could think of, got on Facebook and blasted the news. I was over the moon, out of my head, so totally excited I didn't know what to do.

We were all required to go to a mandatory meeting soon. For all cast members. And I was a lead. I held that information, that truth, so close inside me. It felt like such a precious gift, priceless, coveted, seemingly impossible. I was pretty much speechless, breathless, and totally amazed.

That's when my Hairspray journey really began.

Keep playing!