Wednesday, July 8, 2015

An Excerpt from Chapter 19

So. . . I don't know what's going on, but it's like the dam broke and all of a sudden, I'm just typing like it's NaNo at the Vic/Nic story. Which is great! I'm not going to question it. But I realized something today: 
1. I'm in love with The Remains of the Day, which is my current read.
2. It's been twenty years since I started writing creatively. So henceforth, we're celebrating!
I wrote something today that I think kind of describes what it's like to be a creative person. It's a draft, it's kind of rough, but I'll let Nicole take the floor:

In the few years of auditioning that I'd done, back in college and just after, I had tried out for a few workshops. Workshops were the place where plays and musicals began, when the show was being shaped and at its most collaborative, and it was the way to get in on the foundation of a new musical. 
            I remember the one workshop I did. I was about twenty-three years old, the pay sucked, the composer was a nightmare, and I was only hired for two weeks.
            Now I was twenty-nine and I was essentially doing the same thing, except that Darius and Karl's baby wasn't even at a level to be workshopped yet. They had scenes and songs and themes and lyrics, but it wasn't cohesive or complete. It was a mess.
            And yet I kept thinking of it in an almost obsessive fashion. During my days, when I was teaching my students their music history or getting them to do their scales or teaching my drama students about why they needed to know about dead white playwrights, whatever Dare, Karl, and I had done on the project hovered in my mind. During the afternoons and evenings when Chris and I ran the Little Shop troupe through their songs and their acting and reminded them to project, I thought about the sizzle of performing, whether it was something old or something new. And at night, when I was alone in my apartment chatting to one of my cousins or sending a funny video to Ariana or banging my head against the slow process of piecing together my Ponsonby-Courtney side's family tree, ideas would shape and form and I'd make notes to myself so that I could bring them to the next session with Dare and Karl.
            It was creativity surging through me and it, rather than performing had ever been, was exciting and addicting. This was still an embryo of a project, hardly could be called a musical yet, but it was stimulating parts of my brain that hadn't been stimulated in years.
       Fuck. This was what I'd been missing in my life. Not the rush and nerves of performing, but just being creative and imaginative—and being around people who were like that.

4 comments:

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