i'm a white writer. in new york. original, no? i've been blogging since october 2002. this blog picks up in october 2008, when i moved from DC to NY...(and then I moved to Maine in 2012)

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Sleep is for pussies.

I have become one of those people who functions on four or five hours of sleep.

It is a very good thing that I no longer drive a car.

Took a LAByrinth two-day workshop this weekend and it was exactly what I needed. I used it to dive into a beginning for a piece that I plan on performing myself with a friend at DC Fringe '10.

Usually I know about 70% of what I'm doing when I sit down to start building a play.

This time I only knew about 20%--what she's saying and why she's saying it.

Anyway, I took a leap. I was on the verge of tears so many times during the class, because I felt so incredibly vulnerable. But I did it, and I shared my work, and I got what seemed to be a genuinely positive response, with a few people coming up to me afterwards to say how much it resonated with them. I half-expected people to be like wtf your piece is just too weird, which would have been fine, as negative opinions never really deter me from my goal, but encouragement is always a useful thing.

2 comments:

Jan said...

hi callie, i recognized your name on a facebook event and somehow got to your website and then blog...i was also in the lab class. i wrote the conversation piece b/w the mom and the daughter. i felt exactly the same way you did when sharing my work. i really enjoyed your piece and was actually thinking about it earlier on the subway today. good luck with the show!
-jan (rosenberg, for future reference :) )

derora noo said...

Hi Jan! I thought the class was so beautiful because everyone shared such personal work. I loved your piece. I didn't say this at the time, because I knew we were trying to keep comments to a minimum, but I loved how it seemed to me that the mother was the one who needed parenting, who needed reassurance. In her offering reassurance to her daughter, it was clear to me that the daughter had either moved on, or had compartmentalized her emotional response to the situation years before.

Keep writing!