| Our Girl Would Never Say That |
| Thursday, 05 March 2009 |
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When I was interviewed for a local news spot, the reporter asked me how my experience in theatre has affected my kids. I told her that both Sophie and Connor read all of my scripts. In fact, they told me recently that “our girl would never say that.” I argued. They stood their ground. I retreated to my office and emerged hours later with rewrites. They celebrated that their dense mother finally got a grip on the proper ending. My kids are often my best teachers. When Carol MacLeod called to tell me about the interview, I have to admit, I started planning my wardrobe before we’d even hung up the phone. That’s a little slutty, I know. But, I’m a new playwright; I need the press. The afternoon of the interview, the other writers and actors assembled backstage. I opened the Studio door, to let the crew in, and the reporter said to me - and I quote - “You know, I’ve always wanted to write a play. I just can’t seem to find the time. Do you work?” Do I work?! I still don’t understand why I let her in… The other “mommies” did beautifully. I, on the other hand, could not let this woman turn our theatre into a Mommy-daycare. So I told the truth. I stood fast and towed the mission statement line. She didn’t want to hear that this life is about passion and frustration and victory. She wanted crayons. She wanted the Studio to be “Romper Room for Mommies” – as Sophie put it. It’s just not. The reporter was irritated. Needless to say, my interview wound up on the editing room floor. But I took away something very important, something I actually learned from my kids: don’t sell out just to be popular. Why do my lessons so frequently come through a yucky experience? I don’t know, but maybe there’s some dorky parallel between that and a worthy script evolving from a ridiculous first draft. Hal said to me not long ago, “the older I get, the less interested I am in learning through negative experiences.” I laughed. I’m not all that interested in it either. It seems that so many of my important teachers bring me a negative curriculum. And sometimes, unfortunately, I do the thing that “our girl would never do." I bring a crappy lesson plan for someone else. Even the people I respect and admire; even to my mentors. My kids are my best teachers. They’ve taught me that sometimes when we learn a really important lesson, we also let other people down. And the best we can do, is to make amends and try again. |
