Journey Into Terror

Well, I’m in the Minnesota Fringe Festival again, and I’ve barely got any time left to get my show together.

This is not a new situation. Everything I’ve ever done has come together late. My method, if we can be generous enough to call it that, is to fret and stew and worry and panic for weeks, and then throw everything together in a mad rush. Somehow it works. Or rather, it has worked so far. We could be way overdue for a fall here.

I’d like to think that what’s happening is this: my subconscious is doing all the writing. The stewing and brooding is the part of the writing that doesn’t involve typing. I’d like to think that. What is probably going on is just blind terror, spewing everything out in blind terror because there’s no time left to over-think things. Lord knows over-thinking has been a major problem in my life.

Right now, I’m deep in the woods of Whatthehellamidoing. I can’t see the forest for the trees. I’m too in the middle of everything. I don’t know if the funny bits are funny. I don’t know if my character is sympathetic. I don’t know if there’s actually a plot. What if people think it’s more autobiographical than it is? What if people think it isn’t autobiographical enough? But everyone doing some bit of creative work goes through this phase in the creative process, I tell myself. And I should know. But what if I’m wrong?

Last year, I was in the Fringe Festival with a show called Death Perception. I was big sweaty mass of fear throughout the whole writing process. I put it off and I put it off. I wanted to do the show. I didn’t want to do the show. Finally, there was no time left, and I threw what felt like the biggest Hail Mary pass of my life, writing most of the script in a blaze. I didn’t have an ending for the show until 4:30 in the morning, the night before I had tech rehearsal. I sighed. What was done was done. But once the run was over, I was astonished how many people told me the ending was their favorite part. Chalk one up for fear.

So odds are good I’ll stagger into tech right after an all-nighter, bleary-eyed, mainlining coffee, and bumble through a run, script in hand. And it’ll be fine. Unless it isn’t. We can’t predict the future. That’s life, isn’t it?

So that aside, please come to my show! Someone Is Wrong On The Internet, presented as a part of the Minnesota Fringe Festival, at HUGE Theater, 3037 Lyndale Ave. S., Minneapolis, MN. Show times:

Saturday, August 4, 8:30 PM

Sunday, August 5, 2:30 PM

Tuesday, August 7, 10:00 PM

Wednesday, August 8, 10:00 PM

Saturday, August 11, 10:00 PM

Now to write the son of a bitch.


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