Due to, let’s call it creative differences, it was decided (and she completely agreed) that D no longer continues with the play.
If I was grading that I’d give it a 55. You got the message across but your language -! Here’s what I read (between the lines): D and Beeps couldn’t get along, so D left of her own accord. I’ll say it’s creative differences but write it in a manner so no one is confused about the fact that it’s not really creative differences but Beeps. Is everyone clear?
The above was sent from the director.
Last night was Act 1 and I felt a bit better. Still down. Begged off with a ‘I’m a bit tired today’ excuse to cover my depression. I caught no flack for what happened, tho. No attitude from anyone. Let’s just work. Even had some giggle fits. I’m getting those more and more often during rehearsals, and I know it’s the pressure that’s doing it.
Found that yes, I’ve made a solid decision. Tonight is the test. One word about me or my ‘controlling ways’ and I walk out the door. No fighting, no talking, just a ‘Well, I’m obviously the problem here, so I’ll leave. If you find someone to take my part, grab ’em. I’ll step down.’
And you know, the only thing I really wanted was to see my story done just once my way before I die. That’s all. Just once to see it like I saw it in my head. But those fucking bitches can’t even do that; all they think about is themselves and their fucking egos.
Further: after the director shared the above message, L chimed in. She and D were ‘talking’ on WhatsApp. Apparently D thought ‘it was a real shame’ that she ‘had to leave the play’. She hopes to audition in future and participate.
I won’t have anything to do with THAT production. Nope. Someone else take rehearsal pix. Someone else blog. Or it don’t get done, because I won’t stand foot on stage with that CUNT for one fucking minute. Yeah, I used that word. CUNT. Look it up in the dictionary and you’ll find her picture. I will not work with her. Ever. Not in ANY way.
She made me into an enemy. Can I state here that I’m the only American in this group? I’m surrounded by Dutch nationals, who seem to be natural mediators, and other European people who are far more likely to try and talk things out. I guess when push comes to shove, my core is still American. I’m ready to fight, to punch, to kick, to go to battle. Not to talk. I don’t want to talk; I want to punish D. This… quick to violence reaction is very American. I’ve watched society while I’ve lived here. Talked in depth to people who probably thought I was mad to bring up such subjects. They don’t fight easily. They don’t want to fight.
So, still down. Ready to walk out of my own play. Ready to shut down totally, and not say another peep to anyone in the cast. The very idea of that makes me even sadder. But I’ve got to make taking care of myself my priority. Dr T would not be on board with me continuing this if it’s so damned difficult for me and it keeps triggering my anger.
Oh, yeah! Almost forgot the best part. L received a note yesterday about our venue. We don’t have the dates we thought we did. They don’t do Friday nights. They can give us Saturday and Sunday, that’s it. We’re not happy. No one comes to Sunday performances. Might as well not do it. And now what? Try and find another venue for Friday? Deal with 2 different venues, 2 different sound boards, 2 different everything 2 days in a row?? We can’t go earlier because we need the rehearsal time, and we can’t go later because that’s the zone M’s wife is due to give birth. We’re short one actor, nothing has been decided on Michael, Eve’s boyfriend who has a phone call in Act 1. I wrote it originally with an actor, then it went to recorded responses, and now the director is thinking of using a live actor on stage. But we have no one, so nothing is decided yet. Since I don’t know about venues, I can’t say for sure that I’ll be doing video. We may not be able to use it. Or, I’ll have to do double duty, video and pure audio, to cover all circumstances.
And our December agenda to create a rehearsal calendar STILL isn’t out yet…
Have to get on the newsletter, too.
This weekend I’m doubling down on sound. Ramming that stuff through no matter what the cost to me. Getting real sick of all this; the director isn’t using my roughs, a subtle (or not so subtle) sign that he thinks they’re shit. The other actors are getting bitchy, and inserting toilet flushes or other inappropriate sounds at times with their phones. I feel like the entire production is tipping on the scales from horror/drama to farce/comedy. It doesn’t take much to push it from one to the other, and it’s getting pushed.
Consolation to myself: I don’t have to lay claim to this play at all. I’m using my pseudonym, and I hardly expect at this point for anyone to single me out during the applause. If it ends up a piece of shit I won’t invite anyone. That’s MY call. Fuck all of you.
No more scripts from me. I may pull back from the group in the next year or two. I hope to work on this with the film crew, or get it out to another troupe who might actually be able to do what I wrote. I want to flesh these ideas into a good narrative, and work on my ‘new’ outline for a comedy.
If they all think I’m too controlling, I’ll step back.