I begin this blog after rehearsal four of my one-woman/one-person/solo show, Three Kinds Of Me. Whichever term is the more de rigueur, it all boils down to the same simple fact: I'm going to be up there ON MY TOD. Just me, my skinny little 5ft4 self and I. And to put it in no uncertain terms, I'm CACKING it. But, hey, this was MY idea - I wrote it, I decided I'd perform it and therefore I deserve zero sympathy. That's why I'm writing this blog - this way I can weep, curse, sweat, howl and hair-pull into the privacy of my laptop keys and nobody has to listen. Do you hear what I'm saying?

Thursday, 13 September 2012

WHAT IF...


      The first tickets (four to be precise) have been sold for the Saturday performance of 3Kinds – not that I’m checking ticket sales every 3 minutes or anything, that would be insane, um, if you’d just excuse me a second…– which means I can't get out of it now. At least not on the Saturday. Friday still holds promise. This realisation has released a tsunami of whatif's:

1. What if, like at this week's rehearsal, I have a cold on performance night? In more-than-one-person shows, if I’m under the weather I know I can use the moments I’m not on stage to have a quick nose-blow, Locket-suck or phlegm-spit (always into a tissue or toilet bowl, just incase health & safety are reading). When I’m on stage, I can use the times I’m not speaking to surreptitiously clear my throat, wipe my nose or get my breath back. But this time there’ll be no escape: no toilets to run to, no backs to hide behind, no moments to recharge. This time my snot and I are in this together, til curtains do us part.

2. What if I lose my voice during the performance? I’ve never had to speak solidly for an hour before and even if I manage to do it in rehearsals, what if, on the night, my ordinarily little voice succumbs to the pressure of solo-showdom and decides to leave the building?

3. What if I forget my lines - there’ll be nobody else to paddle me out of shit creek?

4. What if nobody laughs at the bits that are supposed to be funny?

5. What if people laugh during the bits that aren’t supposed to be funny?

6. What if people fall asleep?

7. What if people walk out?

8. What if I get an awful review?

9. What if I have a total meltdown on stage? 

10. What if I have a total meltdown before I go on stage?

11. What if I don’t sell many tickets and there’s hardly any audience?

12. What if I sell lots of tickets and get freaked out by the number of people I know in the audience?

13. What if it nothing goes terribly wrong, in fact what if it all goes rather smoothly and I actually enjoy doing it and the audience enjoys watching it and I even consider doing it all over again, and again, and again – then what, eh? Eh?

14. What if I’ve just gone and jinxed it all by ending on number 13? Sorted.

(note to self: all of these whatifs are in fact whatifs I have before any show I'm in, even if it's with a large cast. They just feel a lot iffier this time.)

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