For the last six months my life was about putting on a new play. This included fits of terror, visions of glory, long talks with myself during car rides to Malibu Sea Food where I do some of my best thinking.
The show opened, ran for 5 weeks, got great reviews, struggled to get audiences during the deadly month of August, made me feel strong and courageous, then closed.
So how do I feel now, and how do we all feel when a project as important as “eve2” was to me, comes and then – goes? Here are the steps I’ve been taking to make sure I finish up the final details and take care of my feelings:
I looked up Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s definition of the 5 Stages of Grief. No I didn’t die, and thankfully neither did anybody around me, and yet, ending a project is a creative death: A natural by-product of giving life to something. (I don’t do well with the cycle of life, I always want things to go on forever, and nothing ever does. So I admit that this is an area in which I need A LOT of work!)
Of her five stages (anger, denial, bargaining, depression, acceptance) which don’t happen in any particular order, and can weave in and out of you as you grieve – I realized first of all that NOTHING HAD DIED. It just lived its lifespan as a play, and then ended. Okay then. That’s better.
I wanted to make sure that anger didn’t become too prominent since the experience had been so wonderful. But sure, I had some anger at people who promised to come see the play and didn’t. Some anger at people who promised to help me with outreach and didn’t. Some anger at myself for shaking with fear before each show whether the house was full or not.
I decided that was enough anger! So I looked for denial. There is no denying that when a project like a play or a movie ends, there is a big change in your creative life: people who only yesterday had my back, cared as much as I did about the project, and would’ve done anything to help move on to other gigs. They have to. This one is over. There is no denying that I feel lonely for the sense of community that happens during the creation of work in the performing arts. Okay, so I’m not in denial. I either skipped that step or it will come later. Moving on.
Bargaining? No. I know the play is over. What can I bargain for? I can work hard to get another play produced sooner than later. Done. I am already in negotiations with a different theater to produce my next play. This salves the loss of the friends at the theater where the last play was presented. It salves it a great deal. The bargain is with me now. Can I enjoy what I already accomplished? Because I have a theory that if you don’t enjoy each step along the way to accomplishment, you will never enjoy it when you “get there”. Wherever “there” is.
Depression. I am not depressed. I am sad. I loved the play. I love all the actors, I love my director. He and I are already at work on the next play, although we are not in touch the way we were during this past production. No, I am not depressed.
Does this all mean that I have actually reached Acceptance? Woohoo!!! I think it does. I think the work is about acknowledging all the feelings that an ending brings with it, and then moving forward to the Next Thing I Am Going to Do.
After many years of being in theater I have finally grown to the point that I can auto-pilot myself through the feelings that come up when something is over. I have accepted that a show closing is NOT a death. It is an ending. And a beginning.
I will frame some photos of the show and enjoy the memories they give me. I will make DVD’s of the show and send them around to some theaters that have expressed interest in a production of the play. I will spend time with the actors and other collaborators who are, in real life, my friends. And then?
We’ll see what comes next!