I took a playwriting class during my junior year of college. For our final project, we had to write and present a one-act play.
We didn’t have to worry about a set or stage directions. We just had to recruit some people to sit on the stage and read our play.
So I convinced a quartet of friends – one of whom is now a well-known weatherman in Pittsburgh – to read the parts in my play. I just had to sit in the back of the room and watch.
Nothing has scared me more in my entire life.
The class took place in the first trimester of the school year, which meant the final readings took place in mid-November in the northwest corner of the state. It was cold.
I distinctly remember wearing a t-shirt underneath a sweater. Normally, that kind of detail would escape my memory, but I sweat so much from nerves during the reading, I could have probably wrung out the shirt when it was finished. You don’t forget things like that.
I really had no reason to worry. The people in my class reacted well to my play, an off-beat comedy. Since that day, I have worked hard to deal better with sharing my art in public.
Which brings us to the predicament I find myself in these days. The fall play at Hanover High School needed some elementary students to fill out the cast of “Miracle on 34th Street.” Bridget wanted to take part and director George Matthew asked my wife and I if we wanted to be in some crowd scenes.
Sure, we said. Anything for Mr. George. We always like to help out community events like this.
But somehow this has evolved into me filling a speaking role. I don’t really know how it happened. George said he needed a few male actors. I said I might be able to fill in after I got back from a business trip. But before I even hit the road, I found myself cast as Mr. Macy in the school’s performance later this month.
I guess, in a way, I knew I would end up filling a role once George announced that some cast members had to drop out. I had already made a small commitment and wouldn’t let the performance struggle just because I suddenly got shy.
Besides, we have started to enjoy going to performances by local schools and community groups. I envy those teenagers up there on the stage doing something I never could have done at their age.
A night at the theater doesn’t have to involve a trip to a larger city, expensive tickets and a well-known lead. Trust me when I say that you can go see outstanding plays right here in town at a reasonable price.
Plus, you might get to see me make a fool out of myself. Don’t count on it though. I have come a long way since sweating through my shirt while people listened to my play 20 years ago. Luckily the suit I will wear in the play is black so you’ll never know how much I’m sweating underneath.
You sounded great the other day when I was there…
You have nothing to worry about! Break a leg!
-Rene
You go, Brian!
I had a small part (well, three small parts with costume changes) in out church production of Fiddler on the Roof a few years ago and had a blast—once I got past the flop sweat.
So enjoy your spot in the footlights, the roar of the grease paint, and the smell of the crowd.