Like stones dropped in water

Last fall I auditioned for grad school to get an MFA in Theatre Directing. I applied to University of Washington -- number 4 in the country, slow trees, cloistered windows, vaulted 40-foot-high rooms, and a revitalized faculty who had combined forces to team-teach. I also applied to Yale -- number 1 in the country, smaller, grimier, built on a city street with no trees at all, but containing a white-hot ethical engine which made theatre in three great circles.

Although my heart yearned for the trees, Yale felt more like me.

Without having to write the Statement of Purpose and Directorial Analysis for those auditions, I would not now be writing this blog. Something happened to my voice when I had to explain why I do theatre. It kept getting plainer. The first draft was 13 pages. The final draft was 4. I worked on it every morning for months, and mourned when it was done.

That led to writing this blog, which I suspect is the bridge to my books and plays -- which is how I've always assumed I'll support my theatre, old age, and desired lifestyle.

But I'm still nervous around you. I'll know I'm ready when these posts become like stones dropped in water, as thoughtless as my morning pages. Right now, I imagine you are all actors. When that time comes, I won't be imagining you at all.