Solo Journey Prep

My plan for the next forty days is this:

Completely revamp my life

The problem is, I come up with this exact same plan every week. And I get excited because-- imagine how much I could accomplish, if, like my friend E-- I schedule every bit of my day and follow the schedule to the letter.
At least that's what I thought E did. She emailed me once, in advance of a visit to ask when and where and for how long. She apologized for being so structured, but said that was the only way she could function.
I wrote her today to ask for advice on exactly how to be like her.
She wondered if I had mixed her up with someone else.
"I constantly feel behind," she said.
It cracked her up that I thought she was someone who could teach me about organization.

The truth is, I know a ton about scheduling and organizing and I do it very well in my business life. But when it's me holding myself accountable to...me, I'm a slacker. 

Which is part of the reason I'm blogging.

What I'm going to try, starting tomorrow is to dedicate a minimum of 2.5 hours daily to the solo-pieces I'll be performing in July.  I'm not talking nose-to-the-grindstone all of the time. 30 minutes of that will be doing vocal exercises as I get ready for work, or do housework, or drive (avoiding the staccato exercises that can make me light-headed). I really like Ariella Vaccarino . Let me know if there are other downloadable Mp3s you'd recommend.

45 minutes will be combined with my daily walk/run where I'll also be listening to a current recording of the piece I'm working on (I record the entire piece in a monotonous voice so that when performing I don't fall into a groove and recite the script rather than feel it ((Ann Randolph's advice)). I carry a little recorder to note ideas that come to me while I work out. I'm sure I look completely nuts running and talking to myself, slowing down every-so-often to speak into a handheld device, but I live in the Santa Cruz Mountains next to a woman who posts signs warning people that the DEA is recording the license plate numbers on everyone who drives past her house, and an old man who lurks behind trees with a shotgun aimed at anyone who walks their dog off-leash, sooo I'm in good company).

That leaves an hour and fifteen minutes to write and move through the piece. This time, instead of writing until it's 'perfect' and then adding movement, I'm going to write on my feet. 

In addition, I'm going to go to take drop-in improv classes at The Fun Institute  which are terrifying and fun and will make me very brave.

AND

Rehearse with my troupe starting this Sunday.

AND

Work with a director in two weeks when I should be off-book.

Here's something else that helps:

In order to be a great artist you have to be willing to be a bad one -- Julie Cameron The Artist's Way

(Thanks, K!)

Tomorrow is day one. See you then.

xo

Solo Journey

So many cobwebs on this page it's hard to find a space to write!
It's been a while. I've been busy. I wrote and performed a 20 minute piece at The Marsh a couple of weeks ago. 

In the time leading up to the show I went all kinds of crazy.

There were a lot of reasons behind the craziness. I had to let my writing group go awhile. And my solo performing group has disbanded for now. And I worked with the very brilliant David Ford who is amazing and gifted and ...quiet and a little intimidating for me.

I realized I'm kind of a basket case without my core support family of artists. I realized I still need hand-holding and outside validation and reassurance. I realized I freak out more than I actually work on my "art" (in quotes, not because it's not really my art, but calling it "my art" sounds pretentious).

This time I didn't have a clear idea of the meaning of the piece--for me personally or for my audience. Because I was so stressed and insecure I circled around the meaning without really closing in on  it until the day before the show. The day after the show I closed in a little more.

The piece I ended up doing was serious without much comic relief. One of the characters I portrayed was very much like me and I had find to ways in which we were different, blow them up without making a caricature of her.

I kept editing and writing and editing and writing and didn't do as much rehearsing as I should have because editing and writing are much less creepy and terrifying than acting alone in my living room. Than filming myself acting alone in my living room. Than watching myself on film acting alone in my living room.

The performance went well. I got lots of good feedback from strangers and my family and  from my lovely group of supportive friends--many of whom are performers accompanying me on this journey.
And from David who accused me of being way too much of a perfectionist when I told him I hadn't nailed one of the characters.

The whole perfectionism thing has worn out its welcome. Seriously. This is what's at the root of my craziness and fear.
Here's what helped me:

This quote (passed along just yesterday by Xiaojuan Shu--an up-and-coming solo-artist whose work I love):
"Talent is a long patience and originality an effort of will and observation."--Flaubert

And this, by the fabulous Ira Glass
http://vimeo.com/24715531 

And this, from Eric Fischbien, a performer I've yet to meet or see in person. He posted this on FB in response  to a question about how people deal with pre-show jitters, butterflies:

"I really internalized that as a performer you must accept that you cannot deliver a great play if you are not willing to go out and deliver something less than perfect, less than it will eventually be. I thought of artists who I love, and some of the lesser things they have done and realized that if in the event it doesn't get quite the reception I was hoping for, that it's all part of a process. Really embrace that, and then step out on stage and have some fun!"

Some great stuff, right?

So here's the deal:

I have about six weeks to finish writing a new piece and to get it on its feet for the Santa Cruz Fringe Festival. 

I know I can I do it but I want to do it without the anguish. 

I know I can't eliminate all of the suffering. I also know that some of the chaos and craziness is actually good and part of how art is born. 

But I want madness in moderation. 

I have a plan I'll share with you tomorrow.

Sweet Dreams!