Dear Muse

Dear Muse,
 
Look, I know how it goes. There are bills to pay and laundry to fold and children to taxi about; you don’t always have the time or the energy to get to the important stuff that’s just for you.

We’re all busy with life, and I understand that I can’t expect you to be available all the time.
 
The thing is, I thought we had a deal – I slog through the work every day, and you reward my perseverance with an appearance or two every once in awhile. It’s been a few months now (4 actually), and I still haven’t seen you once. Last week I was sure you were coming. I bought your favorite tea and some wonderful chocolates, but I was disappointed again. I missed you so much that I must have imagined your scent of honey and sweat.

I’d love to sit and chat for hours, but even just a few minutes of your sweet company would do wonders for my mood. Please come for a visit soon.

Beginning. Again.

In my very first post here I mentioned a workshop being given by Alexandra Franzen that I wanted to go to but was sure I would never attend. Because spending that kind of money means I'm truly taking myself seriously, and we all know I can't do that. Then I might be expected to actually do something besides complain about how much I want to do. Complaining is more in my talent arena.

Well a year later it was a whole new story.

Mostly one filled with less writing and less crafting and less of everything I say I want.

But! A new story filled with new hope as well! Because I am nothing if not a glutton for that kind of punishment.

Alexandra was offering a new class, something smaller, less threatening to my sense of inevitable failure. The Who Am I, Again? workshop was just a few hours in a single afternoon, and since I'm practically the poster child for "Shiny Object Syndrome," it seemed like a perfect fit. Plus a friend offered to go with me so there would be no weasling out of this at the last minute.

And?

It was perfect.

The fact that I'm publishing again here should be proof enough that Ms. Franzen is a miracle worker.

The Upside of Fear

I remember an audition I had when I was 11 or 12 years old. I'd taken some Parks and Rec drama classes and auditioned for school plays, but this was community theater.

Go ahead and laugh. It's hilarious now. But an audience composed of more than the parents of the actors? Pretty damn scary at the time.

The part was also a huge deal - Helen Keller. OK, so there's only one actual line to memorize, but it's a part that requires some real acting chops from a child.

About 50 girls auditioned for the part - equivalent to approximately 48 more people than I'd ever auditioned against before - and I was a nervous wreck. When it was my turn I almost froze, but this tiny voice inside me said, "Let go." And I did.

I didn't get the part. 

What? You wanted this story to have a happy shiny ending?

Fine. Whatever.

The truth is I was ecstatic with how things ended up. At my first big audition I managed to be 1 of only 3 girls who made the call-back audition, and the girl who got the part had way more experience than I did. I also got cast as 1 of the blind girls at the school Annie Sullivan leaves at the beginning of the play, which gave me more than I imagined. I got invaluable experience in watching a large production unfold, and I got to make some friends who all loved acting as much as I did.

I learned that fear would only stand in the way of me getting to the good stuff.

And thankfully I took that lesson to heart and never let fear stop me again.

Or...I promptly forgot the lesson and have been forced to relearn it more times than I can count. Yeah, that one sounds about right.