Sartre said, “Hell is other people.” I won’t go there right now, or there’ll be a rant. (In fact, I just deleted five huge sentences.) Suffice it to say that some people think they’re funny as it, and it makes me wonder if there’s a special place reserved there for them. You know the kind I’m talking about.
More on that another day, fo sho. But back to production week.
As I type this, my stomach gets all ooky. And the heck of it is, the anxiety usually centers around stuff I can’t change.
Production week for me entails thoughts and worries about:
- what’s still wrong and how it can be fixed
- things I have to let go of because they can’t be fixed in time for the opening
- how many details I need to tie up, and feeling that there is at least one gargantuan “thing” I’ve forgotten to address
- cuts in the score about which I may have failed to inform the players in the pit
- in this case (since I’m playing), getting my own part right
- most importantly, giving our audiences the quality they’ve come to expect (this is the biggy)
But, like heaven and earth, this too shall pass away. Thirteen days. Thirteen days.