I always struggle when I have something I want to write. I worry if I will say it the way I mean it. I worry that someone will take it the wrong way, even though it is not aimed at anyone in particular. It is just thoughts I have that I feel like sharing.
I saw a movie the other day and I know it is way after everyone else has seen it, so I won’t say what movie, but it really made me think.
I think most true artists have a voice in their head that constantly tells them how great they are and how awful they are. I know I do. In the movie, the main character had such a voice and I connected to him and his inner voice quickly. I think all of us that are truly artists have that voice. It tells us all of our weaknesses and latches on to any praise we might receive. Mostly it reminds us how crazy we are to be so invested in something so fragile.
Most days I am fine, but when involved in a play, whether acting or writing about one, I hear that voice a lot.
I have a hard time doing anything related to theatre “just for fun.” I went to see a fun show in a theatre I performed in as a child a few weeks back and I got teary. Not from the memories per say or the play being presented in front of me, but because of how complicated it has all gotten. It was so easy when I was a kid and I wondered why I couldn’t just go back to doing a play and not care, just enjoy the experience.
But I can’t. It means too much to me. It is all consuming. It is my art. It is who I am. I want to be the best I can be and I want to put my all into every aspect of performing. Now, since I have been pushed into making a choice, I try to put all of that passion and intensity into my reviews. I try to be honest and forthright. I try to be thoughtful and compassionate. I try to be real.
Nothing I say has any bearing on anything, just as my small performances had no real bearing on anything. But to me, it means everything to do my best, give it my all or go down trying. But in the scheme of things I know it is not important to anyone else. Not like it is to me.
That voice in my head tells me to write in my way, my style. It also tells me that I am not doing it like everyone else is, so it must be wrong. That voice tells me to be extremely honest, but it also tells me to take everyone else’s feelings into account. That voice tells me people won’t like me if I keep doing this job, it also tells me that I won’t like myself much if I don’t.
A director recently asked someone on their staff to write a complaint about me to my editor because I didn’t write the review they thought I should have. I almost decided to quit. After all, I am sensitive and if I am going to get grief for this, it isn’t worth it. The theatre people of this area were spoiled. They either got overlooked and did their own thing under the radar, or they got nothing but the whitewashed “advertisements” that were accepted as reviews. (They wouldn’t last too long in NYC where reviews can be brutal!) Who am I to change the dialogue? Nobody, that’s who.
My inner voice said, just quit. Why put yourself through this? It also said, don’t let them win, push on. You are doing fine work and some people appreciate it.
As always, I am thinking things through thoroughly. Depending on what side of my inner voice I have heard from last, I think I’ll give up… or not.
My smart son who is also a writer, but a real one, told me to just write. Forget the numbers, or the fans or the detractors. Just write and be me and stop worrying. If you read this blog, you know I am a worrier, so that might be difficult. But he is right. No one should tell me what or how or why I write. Not disgruntled directors, not even my own irritating inner voice. So for now, I will continue. At least until my head changes my mind!
