This Circus Life...

Okay, so there's your life, your significant other, your friends, drinking, talking, movies, the stuff of an actual life that you lead, the real stuff that matters to you...

...And there's work, Day-job-Land, boring but time-consuming, the complicated dance of doing well enough that you don't get fired, but not caring too much that you lose focus of the salient point: you do this for the money...

...And there's the work of this life, the plays to check out, the readings to go to, parties to schmooze and connect, keeping a finger on the pulse, who works where now, who's getting produced, who's looking for what scripts, the constant hustle...

...And, eventually, there's the art stuff, the actual writing, and re-writing, constructing plots, looking for inspiriation, building your own perfect little house to live in for a while, trying to find the time to go back into the half-finished stuff and polish it off, all of the work that should really matter...

...And there's this, writing this blog, trying to make changes, trying to do more for the field, thinking about what's going on, looking at the big picture...

...And the circus music starts up, you can smell the sawdust and popcorn, and you juggle, you toss it all up in the air and keep it moving, only spending a second or two with each one before up it goes and something else is in its place. They toss you new things, set things on fire, rev up the engine on the chainsaw. You go up a ladder, across a tightrope, dive into a pool, all the while, juggling and juggling, hoping you don't drop something fragile, something that can't be brushed off and tossed back up, hoping, when it's done, you have all of your appendages. Maybe a few new scars, but nothing too bad.

Sooner or later, though, you do drop something. It's going to happen.

So, this is a long way of saying, I kinda dropped the ball there. It got a little hectic and I had to go and live my life for a bit. It's still hectic, but I missed this conversation. I'm going to try to keep up my end.

Mentors needed...

This is totally my fault and my psychological issues: I was never good with being mentored. For an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person, I'm suprisingly private and a bit stubborn and contrary. (Trust me, virtually no one who knows me would ever think that's true, but it is.) And because of that, I've never been one to be mentored. Blame my deeply flawed parents, their crappy divorce, you name it, but I've always had a deep distrust of authority figures. I was never one to act up, or act out (I left that to my older brother), I'm definitely a pleaser, but I'm also always ready for them to split, flake out, do all of the bad things I'm used to. So there's a distance.

But right now, I'll be honest: I could use a good mentor. Someone a bit older, a bit more experienced, but of a similar style, experience, temperment. In grad school, one of my professors always stressed how solitary the life of a playwright could be and how much you need colleagues. I think you also need mentors. This life is a lot about lessons and about advice. It's a craft, the whole theatre life, and crafts require apprenticeships and stewardships and mentors.

I'm finding myself at a bit of a crossroads, a sticking point on the path from "promising" writer to "emerging", and not sure how to navigate it. It's one of those times that you need advice from someone who really knows ya. This isn't a bleg or anything. Just...an unburdening. I'm out of the theatre lifestyle right now, working a straight job, dating someone not in the field at all, living a slightly remote area, away from the whole "demimonde". It's hard to feel connected in any meaningful way. Just sharing that...