It’s been a while.
It’s not as if I haven’t had anything to comment on, it’s just that not everything that happens in life is meant for public consumption; no matter what some of your ‘friends’ on social media might think.
So, what’s new? More stage management opportunities have presented themselves so I’m keeping busy and making a modicum of money. The search for the elusive day-job continues. I’m doing some IT work for a friend’s dad.
And I’m writing a play. In theory. I kinda feel like maybe it’s writing me, but it’s early days. Working through that, and dealing with recent life events, has made me ponder closer on the power of hope.
Hope keeps us going. Hope that things will change. It helps us learn so that things can improve. Hope helps us wake up ‘to a new day’ and gets us out of bed in the morning. Hope walks us to school, holds our hand during a job interview, coaches use through a promotion, holds us up when we decide to quit. It’s hope that keeps me here and guides me to indeed.com every day.
Then hope left. I lived a week without it and it was a week of emptiness, isolation, disconnect and longing. I didn’t like it. I got insomnia for the first time ever. I’ve never know frustration like it. Thank goodness something changed and hope returned.
As a fledgling writer you turn to those who have already flown into, and navigated, the published world. There’s hope again; if someone else can do it, so can I. I realized a while ago that in order to be able to construct a story you need to know how it ends. As David Ives states in Buzz McLaughlin’s Book The Playwright’s Process…
…if I just set out on the road with no destination in mind, I quickly return home with nothing.
The same can be said for life. I think the hardest thing for me being out here is not knowing where I’m going. Yes, I’m working hard to make it work for me and, in many respects that’s happening, but I’m not really here for me. We moved here for Jon to go to school. I have no ties here. The work I am doing is fluid and episodic. I don’t know what will happen when he finishes school and that’s scary. I think that’s why I want a day job so badly…not just for the financial stability, but emotionally too. Something that will bring both hope for a better future, and a destination to aim for, at least for a bit of a rest stop and a lie down. Somewhere to settle a while, build a nest and fluff up our feathers.
Then I think about my play and what I’m trying to say with that. It’s inspired by true events so it’s hard to really peel myself away from the emotional trauma and really get deep into the dramatic premise of the piece. Everything about my idea has been so negative; fueled by my own clouded unfinished business. Why, though, would it need to finish in a dire way? I remembered today that there is always hope. I want my characters to have hope, even after life-changing revelations. For them to realise that people change, that poor decisions can be made but they’re not necessarily permanent. It’s hard, and it’s a bit scary, because I know that in real life I’ll never get that kind of positive resolution. Maybe, though, there is hope that through this process I can find some form of forgiveness and move on.