by Cameryn Moore
I’ve been here for a month, and most of that has been inside, partly because of the weather, namely, a record snowfall that buried my trusty car to the top of the windshield, and partly because of my phone work. I venture out for an hour or two in the afternoons, to find the post office or pick up some groceries, but mostly I just stay indoors.
I’m the newbie, I’m the carpetbagger, I have nothing to offer but my ego.
Waiting for now, in fact, waiting for winter. Winter = work. Under this layer of pajamas for days on end and “no I can’t come out tonight” and plates of buttered pasta because I haven’t gone to the store recently and can’t afford anything else, underneath all this is writing and poking and obsessing, laying out calendars and scribbling down script notes and hitting up sponsors and trying to figure out how to transfer my newest fundraising video over to YouTube. Let’s just stick with farming metaphor: the field looks still, but underneath there are these gophers, making a megalopolis of tunnels and birthing squirmy little gopher pups and come spring, when I plow it open and take the top layer off, that field is gonna ERUPT.
And now here I am, snow be damned. Holy shit, is there work to do. My normal process for growing a show got disrupted this year, because of moving and working with a new director and car troubles and the unavoidable loneliness of relocating to a new city. The show hasn’t been coming, and when the first draft came out, it had to be scrapped. It was a joint decision between me and my director. He pointed out the flaws, the areas for further exploration; I agreed. And I felt fear.
I’ve also added to the mix getting out and seeing other people’s creative efforts. Whether I have a comp ticket, or volunteer, or perform in a showcase, I have so many options for that here. One interesting side effect of seeing things for free: since I didn’t pay for it, it doesn’t matter if it sucks or not. I am seeing a show that I wouldn’t have seen otherwise, and that is all grist for the mill, fertilizer for the field.