In September 2012 I had the honor of performing in the hit play Expressing Motherhood in Los Angeles. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life, truly transformative. I’m not sure why I felt compelled to submit some of my blog pieces, but I did. I was stunned when I got the email that they’d accepted me into the cast. Then I broke out into tears of excitement and happiness, and I’m not a crier.
The last time I performed on stage was as a sixth grader. I’m pretty sure I did a dance number, solo, from Cats. I cannot even fathom why. Even though I had months to prepare for my ExMo stage debut I was literally paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t even read my piece out loud. I emailed my producer asking for help. She offered to run through it on the phone with me and told me when to call. I never called, I was that scared.
Days before opening night we had our first rehearsal and I met my fellow cast mates. I still had not read my piece, silently or out loud. As I sat parked outside the theater I blared the music I’d chosen to warm up to, “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Don’t ask, I don’t have a good answer. I had visions of being shunned by my fellow performers, undoubtedly more prepared and professional and qualified than I.
But everything changed once rehearsal started. To say that they were the most amazing, fantastic, funny, real and talented people I had ever been around would be an understatement. I felt a pretty much instant bond with this group of women from all walks and all over the city, chosen to tell their stories about motherhood to Los Angelenos. These are moms I’d have otherwise never met, ranging from total amateur non-professional writers (um, me) to professional actresses and real, credentialed writers.
At that rehearsal, the first time we met the producer and director, we heard the music chosen for each of us to walk out to, based on our personalities and pieces and how they thought each performance would go: funny, poignant, dramatic, and so on. The song introducing me was “I’ll Be There In A Minute” by Nataly Dawn:
After rehearsal, we all got an email with feedback and updated music selections if necessary. My producer said that after she’d seen me “rockin’ out” in my car (she didn’t know I was listening to a 90s boy band) she knew she had to change my music and I would now be walking out to “Hoochie Coochie Man” by Muddy Waters:
The day before the show and after the second rehearsal I got a third email with my final song selection. When I heard it I doubled over on the street, laughing, in horror. But it ended up being so perfect. The music the audience would hear as I walked on stage was “Doin’ It” by LL Cool J. Awwww, yeah. I’m sure there’s some kick ass metaphor about the progression of my life and the choice of music going from folksy to porn rap, but I’m not really sure I want to explore that.
By the time show time came the next night I was still moderately panicked. I sat in my car, parked outside the theater, for almost two hours reading my piece over and over. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t drink (the latter of which was particularly unfortunate as my fellow ExMo girls know how to do it right). My BFF had flown in from Texas, my mom was in the theater, and I had an amazing cross-section of friends from my life coming to see me over the next two weeks: mommy group friends, family, high school buddies, fellow writer and blog friends and more. The support was amazing and I’d been hyping the show of Facebook. I’d basically set myelf up for an epic failure.
Instead, the show started and when I came on stage I loved every second of it. Afterwards I posted on Facebook that it did not suck having an audience laugh and applaud. In front of the theater I had a group of women yell “we’re your fans!!” That was spectacular.
And so while everyone was super supportive, I haven’t had the nerve to post the video of that opening night. It might have been filmed from the most unflattering angle ever in the history of recordings, and I’m now down at least two sizes and two chins. I personally haven’t been able to watch this all the way through, as there’s always a huge discrepancy between how you think you look and sound and how you actually do. Plus I make at least one error that I caught before I quit watching.
So please keep in mind that I hadn’t been on stage for 28 years. And please accept my thanks, six months later, for your support for this amazing experience. Now, please, close your eyes and just listen to Phone Sex for Moms.
Leave a Reply