I generally like to think of myself as a badass who flies her freak flag and lets her awesome whenever possible.
Skydiving doesn’t scare me.
Bungyjumping doesn’t worry me.
Hitting the dance floor, no problem.
Karaoke, don’t sing like Adele, but don’t care.
The one thing that does worry me? Concerns me? Brings some insecurity bubbling to the surface?
Opening night coming up in ten days.
Eight plays. One festival. People I know, people I don’t know. Words coming to life on stage. First time that’s happened since that girl scout talent show in elementary school.
I’m excited, but worried at the same time. The words are gone, now in the hands of the actors. How I said them in my head, the little idiosyncrasies I imagined, how I saw it playing out, that’s all gone. The words are on their own and I have to hope they were strong enough to carry my vision, and the lives of the characters I created. Don’t know if people will laugh, or remain unmoved. Don’t know what the other writers created. All I know is that I’m last on the lineup.
Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
Won’t be sure of much until afterwards. In 11 days I’ll be all right, but for ten … Ten days insecurity will strike.
But I imagine that’s what all writers go through even if you’re confident in your work, even if you think it’s awesome … a little insecurity before the big day, before the book debut, before the movie comes out and before your play hits the stage, it happens, right? Insecurity hits us all while we’re waiting. Thank God for chocolate.