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My Real Memoir
There’d been signs early on, but I was too young to know what they meant. In primary school I’d heard the phrase, “Step on a crack and break your mother’s back,” and started avoiding cracks. But I didn’t like how obsessive it felt, so I started stepping on cracks to prove I wasn’t obsessive. And then I felt guilty about breaking my mother’s back, so I returned to avoiding cracks.
That crack phobia continued into my first year of college. But I’d long forgotten why, and was as buoyant as a rubber duck. My ego took a hit, however, when Jonnie, a bruised reed of a beauty, refused to date me because I was “shallow.” “Oh, you’re fun to hang out with,” she said, “but you’re all laughs. You need to suffer a little, or you’ll never be deep.” She was hot for Darren, our theatre department’s broody Mr. Darcy, who told me at a cast party one night, “I really don’t care whether I live or die.” I thought, Catch 22: being depressed would get me Jonnie, but then I wouldn’t care.
The following summer, I found my inner Darren. I’d always been a desperately poor memorizer, even with a mere handful of lines in my first play. I managed to do better for a while (although I still have enough mental blocks to rebuild the Great Wall of China). But that summer during opening night of the musical Guys and Dolls, I went completely blank on stage — and everyone in the western hemisphere saw it happen.
Call it overreacting to my own underacting, but that night I tumbled into an emotional black hole. I became convinced I’d lost the ability to feel. My emotive deadness was only a blanket, however, something to throw over the sheer terror that haunted me after that on-stage melt-down.
During the months that followed, I drank whisky and typed acidic poems, and thought, How do you like me now, Jonnie? Deep enough for you? It wasn’t until I wrote and directed a hit show that I felt truly happy again.
Why had blanking on-stage affected me so profoundly? I wouldn’t understand until decades later that I’d built my entire sense of self-worth upon my ability to perform. I’d been the five-year-old hiding in the corner at a birthday party who didn’t know how to “be.” And then, at age seven, I’d found the answer: Be funny, be clever. Do this and people will accept you, maybe even love you.
But God forbid you should fail.
I was now in grad school, and fresh off two well-received plays. But as a master’s candidate I was expected to direct or act in a show every term. And so, because of my knack for accents (certainly not my ethnicity), I was cast as the Polynesian King Otoo.
The play A Supplement to Cook’s Voyage is set in 1774. Captain James Cook has just arrived in Tahiti, and is greeted by King Otoo. Cook has survived fierce Pacific storms. But they’re nothing compared to…
The tsunami I was about to face.
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
I enjoy your posts!
Thank you, Robin. I’m delighted to hear that.
Funny how those memories just keep coming back.
Some of the most iconic lines in movies were ad-libbed because lines were forgotten, so you’re in good company, Mitch. Your tsunami sounds dire! 🙂
Afraid so, Nancy.
This reminded me of the movie Rushmore and how Max several times says “I wrote a hit play” as a defense mechanism. Not saying that you’re like Max. It just reminded me.
I get that, Danny.
Another cliffhanger! 😵
I know the feeling – I once dated a guy who routinely expressed contempt for my carefree, happy attitude. (I know, so why was he dating me?) to the point where I actually felt guilty for having a good life. Getting to know the Lord helped me stop apologizing for His blessings and start living a life of gratitude.
Way to go, Annie.
What’s it like writing plays? Sounds very interesting!
It’s a different kind of challenge from writing lit. You have to think about how stage-able your scenes are. And unlike movies, which are visually-driven, or novels, which are narrative-driven, plays are driven by dialogue.
Great explanation! Thank you! 😊
I always wonder how actors memorize an entire script. I have such a short memory. Nice post!
Thanks, Iman!
Especially musicians, how are they able to remember an album? 😂
I don’t know how they do it. Suspicious! 😂
You grabbed my attention at the very beginning. Great story!
Thank you, Cari!
mental heath means autism where is cora she’s busy?
Love your stories. I tend to feel for you during some of your tales. Then I get to see the big picture. Thanks for sharing, Mitch.
My privilege, San.
Great post
Thank you, L.G.
Oh, I’ve got a bad feeling about this!
Regarding “Guys and Dolls, I went completely blank on stage” I had something simuilar happen to me but it was when I was supposed to play piano. I could not get started and did not hit a note. The other kids were screaming “start playing moron”, “why aren’t you playing”. It is funny how that happens. I think the fear that it may happen is what makes it happen. It was a terrible experience for you but I think you grew wiser.
In time, Thomas. A lot of time.
“…Catch 22: being depressed would get me Jonnie, but then I wouldn’t care.” Great stuff.
Thank you, Bob.
Another great story. Thank you, Mitch. 🙂
So glad you enjoyed it, Aline.
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