New Works by Old Friends

Last weekend my alma mater, Calvin College, put on a production called New Works by Old Friends. It was a selection of 10-minute plays written by alumni, and mine was one of them. As in, I wrote one. Very few people caught on to that right away when I would mention "my play." They thought I might be directing something, or maybe acting in something ("Oh, you mean Midsummer Night's Dream?" one girl asked me after hearing "my play"). Writers fly under the radar...though possibly still not as far under as the tech crew. I've never been on tech crew, so I can't be sure.

I've written skits for youth group presentations before, but this was different. People would be auditioning for the chance to be in this play, not drafted into it against their will. Also, the writing of the play was the extent of my creative control. No one consulted me on my vision or asked me what I meant by one line or another. I had no input in casting, staging, anything. This was exciting in that I love that theatre is a collaborative art, and all of the imaginations involved bounce off each other and create something greater than the sum of the parts. This was terrifying in that I wondered if that sum would be recognizable. 

What if my writing didn't stand up under outside examination? What if what I thought was clear was actually obscure? Or what if all the people I had told in my initial excitement piled in to see the play, found that they didn't like it at all, and felt they had to come up with something nice to say that I could tell was spoken out of pity? 

There was a lot of internal wrestling over these questions and the larger question of where they were coming from in the first place, but I won't get into that now. Now, what matters most is that none of my doubts were justified, and more than all of my hopes were. From the moment my portion of the show began on Friday night, I knew that. My play had taken on a life outside of me. It had been processed by a director and a pair of actresses, all very talented young women, and it was being taken in by an audience. It was an incredible experience. 

(It was the first theatrical experience my little buddy Lucas ever had, too...he did very well for a two-year-old. I was proud of him. My favorite part of him being there was when he tapped the back of my chair because he wanted to hold my hand.)

Saturday night they gave me a name tag to wear that said "playwright" on it, and they had all the playwrights in attendance come up on stage after the show. This was far less comfortably incognito than Friday night had been, but it was kind of fun in a ridiculously surreal way. And then after it was all over I got to spend time with Calvin friends I haven't seen in ages.

I'm so glad I got to do this, and that it came this year. I couldn't have written this play any earlier than this year and had it have nearly the depth and truth it has. I received so much encouraging feedback last weekend that has encouraged me to hope for...well, for more than I was settling for. I could keep going with all the mental and emotional and spiritual stuff that was/is bubbling up because of this play, but I don't feel I could do it justice at this point. 

To sum up, it was quite possibly the best weekend I can ever remember having in my entire life.