Hey, Y'all!

Still here!

OH, HEY!  Sorry for the lack of posting, y'all.  I've been stage managing a hum-dinger of a show.

 

That's a lie...it opened Sunday.

DRACULA!!!!!!!!  It's fun. And big. And there are explosions.  No one flies, but there's a ton of magic. I'm having a blast. It's also kind of nerve-wracking because there are multiple times when I could screw up and kill someone. Let's all hope that doesn't happen.  The audience for opening went insane every time something blew up.  It was so much fun.

Even Shakespeare got dressed up for the occasion:

 

He says he didn't write this play, but it's still pretty good.

Here's a sneak-peek at one of my favorite special effects:

 
That, friends, is what a vampire looks like after you stake it.  See the little round things by his head, hip and between his legs?  Those are pyro pots and contain enough flash powder to blow the sides off a coffin. (Told you the special effects were cool!).  This picture was taken looking down into one of our traps in the stage floor.  I kind of felt like this guy looked during tech week, but we made it through and have one of the best shows I've seen in a long time, so all the hard work was worth it!

To read more, check out our company's website:  www.asf.net, or like Alabama Shakespeare Festival on Facebook!

(Shameless plug over. But I have to admit...my job's pretty cool.)

This week at work

My job is very cool, y'all.  This week, I'm stage managing a workshop/staged reading of a brand new musical called DOUBLETIME with lyrics and music by this guy.  You know his songs, even if you don't know him.  And he's awesome. AND he's a blogger.  I am star-struck.  I hope he hasn't noticed.

If you're interested, you can read more about our Southern Writers' Project festival of new plays here.  This is one of my favorite things we do at the theatre, as it's a whole week dedicated to the process of making a play. All the frills--the costumes, lights, sound, props--are stripped away so we can focus on developing the story.  For  a theatre geek like me, it's great fun.  Add Nile Rodgers into the mix?  It's  downright heavenly.

 

Greetings from the tech table

Oh, friends. I've missed my blog.  I'm spending my days sitting in the dark running technical rehearsals for my show, which opens Sunday. After that? I go back into studio rehearsals for the other show in the afternoons (this current show will be playing morning matinees next week), then it's back into tech next weekend.  Things are actually going swimmingly well, but very busy.  My laptop is still broken, as I haven't had time to take it to the laptop doctor. Hopefully that will happen tomorrow.  Dean's doing much, much better and is spending the week at my mom and dad's house. I miss him SO much. I'll be collecting him on Monday for two straight days of baby lovin' before I go back to work.

Here's a photo that pretty much sums up the past couple of days:

Whatever gets you through, right?

Hope all's well in your corner of the world.

I Forgot We Could Do That

A few weeks ago, Dean saw THE LION KING for the first time.  I've been looking forward to showing it to him for a long time. It was my favorite Disney movie as a teenager and young adult and has always held a special place in my heart. My college roommate and I used to quote it word for word in our dorm room. I bought my dad a hat with Pumba and Timon on it at Disney World.  I think I owned the soundtrack at one point.

I remember seeing the movie in the theatre when I was about 17.  Those first strains of the overture gave me chills. The animation was like nothing I'd ever seen on a big screen and the story was fantastic.  I thought it was the greatest Disney creation ever.

Then I saw it on Broadway.

When I was 27, my friend Kitty and I were fairly new New Yorkers and decided to do a touristy thing one Friday night.  Neither of us had seen The Lion King on Broadway, so we decided to see if we could get some standing room tickets.  We stood in the "standby" line for about an hour. The box office manager came out and said that if anyone was willing to pay full price, she had a pair of house seats that had just been released.  Being professional stage mangaers, we knew house seats were the best in the house, usually reserved for VIPs and company members.  We quickly volunteered to pay full price and were ushered to our seats...on the FIFTH ROW.  We were right in the middle of the audience, close enough to see everything.  Theatre geeks that we are, we spent the time before the show began admiring the architecture of the space and trying to strain our eyes to figure out some special effects.

Then the lights dipped.  The house went dark.  After a brief moment, a beautiful, deep orange light appeared and the actress playing Rafiki hit that now-famous first note of "The Circle of Life."  The theatre came alive.  Actors dressed in elaborate costumes and handling gorgeous puppets that can only be described as absolute works of art came out of every nook and cranny in the theatre.  Their voices blended perfectly.  They moved gracefully toward the stage, taking our breath away with each movement.

And I wept.

It was the most beautiful moment I've ever had in the theatre because I was taken completely by surprise.  My senses were overloaded and my heart was about to burst.  These artists had just made magic.

As a theatre professional, I'm "in the  know" as far as a lot of theatre magic goes. I  know  how to make people fly,  where the trap doors open and how all the special effects work. To be taken by surprise is a treat  for me. Fortunately, I've been able to keep my  sense of wonder about me all these years to a certain extent. I always bring tissues to the theatre because,if I'm lucky, I'll get swept up in the magic and  it  will bring tears to my eyes. The day an overture doesn't bring me to tears is the day  I need to  stop doing theatre. The anticipation, the excitement, the escape from reality, the absolute magic...THAT is what makes all the  long hours worth it.

Did you know we could do that?

 

Pardon me while I refer to my favorite Monty Python quote*

SO! Since yesterday's post was sort of heavy, I thought I'd lighten things up a bit today.   I have to tell you of a sort of Twilight Zone-esque, freaky thing that happened. Our union  (Actors Equity) sends out a quarterly publication called "Equity News." I always look forward to getting mine so I can read about the  goings-on in theatres  around the country and look for people I know in the pictures. They do a lovely feature on the back page called "Final Curtain," a place to honor Equity  members who have recently passed away.  I always skim the list, but this month I made sure to look because I knew my dear friend Sonja's name would be there. I found her name (which was misspelled...grr...), then kept glancing down  the list. Imagine my surprise when I saw this:

 
That's my maiden name.  Here's the thing: In our union, your name has to be completely unique. When I was unmarried, I was Jen M. Nelson because this lady was already using  my "regular"  name.

I'd better go update my Facebook status so people will know I'm still around.

*I'm not dead yet!

Equal footing

I spent the weekend in Atlanta helping run some cattle-call-type auditions for the Southeastern Theatre Conference. It was great fun and the rest of the staff was fantastic.  The fall auditions are much less crazy than their springtime counterparts, so we were able to work at a fairly relaxed pace. We even got lunch breaks both days, which is often just not possible with 900 auditionees.

One of the highlights of this weekend for me was being able to spend some time with my mentor from college, the woman who informed the 20-year-old me that I was meant to be a stage manager, and who then spent the next two years teaching me how to become one.  Our relationship is so different now. I met Cherrie when I was a 17 year old high school junior.  I already had my eye on Louisiana Tech as THE PLACE for my college career and she was the director of theatre there. (still is)  To say she intimidated me at first is quite the understatement. The first time I met her, she was wearing her Phantom of the Opera show jacket, which donned the monogram "Cherrie:  Production Coordinator."  She was EXACTLY who I wanted to become:  a strong woman who had southern roots, who had worked her way to the top of her game, spent some time in the bright lights of Broadway, then returned to academia.  I told her in my scholarship interview that I wanted her job.

Cherrie and I had our ups and downs throughout my college years, mostly because we are both stubborn and because at 22, I was terrified of life, which I'm sure made me uber-annoying to be around a lot of the time.  Now, however, I've been where she's been.  I did the New York thing. I worked at the top of my game.  I have a career as a stage manager. (Turns out she was right--it's EXACTLY what I was meant to be.)  Cherrie and I? Are friends on a whole different level now.

We went to dinner on Saturday night, which was an adventure in and of itself.  At BlogHer this year, people kept telling me what a great sense of direction I have. No, dears.  I lived in NYC for several years and it's a numeric grid--that's the only reason I could find my way.  My sense of direction leaves MUCH to be desired.  Let's just say, that's something Cherrie and I have in common.  She declared that we were going to The Vortex, a well-known Atlanta eatery with fantastic burgers.  It was 13 miles from our hotel. I asked, "And are you going to be navigating?" She said yes, and off we went.  Before we'd even hit the interstate, Cherrie had stopped navigating, dropping the directions on the FLOOR, and launching into a story.  I managed to scoop up the directions and get us to our destination (more or less). 

Over dinner, we talked about mutual friends, family, and life in general.  We shared stage management stories and talked about or time in NYC and how it was both very different and very much the same.  We toasted a friend who has recently passed away.  We discussed things that only people who have been in our shoes understand.  I don't have anybody else who truly, 100% understands me in the ways she did.  It was so nice to have someone to talk to about things like the energy and discipline it takes to do our job in a big city and the heartbreak that comes when you know it's time to leave.  We talked about the joy our students bring and how we want to squeal and cry and hug people when they have a "light bulb" moment. (The moment in class when a light bulb practically appears over a student's head because FINALLY they get it!) I needed someone to talk to about these things and I could tell Cherrie did, too.  She treated me as an equal.  For the first time in our relationship, I wasn't going to her just for advice or guidance. We were two women, cut from the same cloth, relating to each other on a wonderfully deep level. I felt very grown-up and completely comfortable, which surprised and delighted me.  She told me I articulated some things she hadn't been able to figure out how to say for years and I knew that when she nodded her head at something I said, it was because she really and truly knew what I meant.  We filled a very specific need in each others' lives at that moment, and I hope this newfound facet of our relationship is one we'll be able to nuture for years to come.

It's something I wouldn't trade for the world. 

For Sonja

On Tuesday, the theatre world lost an amazing presence.  Sonja Lanzener passed away and left the world a little darker.  I loved Sonja before I even met her.  Her husband, Paul, was a guest artist in the first show I stage managed as a grad student at U of A.  Not only was he the perfect picture of professionalism, he was just a super-nice guy.  We talked a lot and he told me all about his wife, who was also an actress at the Alabama Shakespeare Festival, where he was a resident artist.  She sounded like fun and I couldn't wait to meet her.  Fast-forward to 6 months down the road, when I became a production assistant at ASF.  Sonja ran over and immediately introduced herself on my first day, saying Paul had told her all about me and how well he thought we'd get along.  A friendship was born.

My favorite memories of Sonja are from the time we were doing HOLIDAY MEMORIES, a play based on the childhood memories of Truman Capote, complete with Thanksgiving AND Christmas stories.  Sonja played "Miss Sook," Capote's cousin who raised him.  She brought a charm and warmth to the character that only she could.  Her humor as well as her heartbreaking sincerity were truly something to behold.  I remember an especially quick prop handoff she had to do between two scenes.  The first time she tried it, it didn't work, so I volunteered to help her. I also brought her a cup of water. You would have thought I'd presented her with a bottle of Dom Perignon the way she thanked me.  Sonja, like me, was a natural caretake, and if you looked out for her, you'd better believe she'd look out for you.  We got that prop handoff down so well by the end of the run that we eventually made it into a little dance to entertain ourselves.  There was also a part where I had to hand off an artificial Christmas tree to Sonja and another actor, who entered with it through an aisle in the audience.  They'd run offstage, around to the lobby, grab the tree and trot down the aisle.  Sonja was already muttering about that stupid tree by the time she came into my line of vision and didn't stop until she burst through the door, immediately snapping back into her jolly character.  I laughed my head off at her every night.

During that same production, Paul was leaving town for several weeks to work at a theatre up north.  Sonja did not have a drivers' license, so she had to get one in order to tote herself around town while Paul was gone.  I'll never forget the look of pride on her face the day she came into rehearsal jingling her keys and had us all go out to the parking lot to see the fuzzy dice Paul had bought for the rear-view mirror of her Subaru.

Over the years, Sonja and I talked about everything: healthy living, making it in NYC, teaching, being a good friend, being a woman in the arts, making a marriage work when you're in theatre (she could have taught a seminar--she and Paul worked together their entire marriage), food and so much more.  On every two-show day, she and I would go to Siagon Deli, where she introduced me to some of my favorite meals to date.

The last time I saw Sonja was in NYC in 2006.  I'd been talking to one of the women in the chorus of the show I was doing and it came up that I'd worked at Alabama Shakespeare Festival. She said, "Wait...then you must know Sonja and Paul!" I said, "Of course I do!" and she said, "I was the maid of honor in their wedding!" A reunion was set right that very minute. We called Sonja after the show and told her we were reserving her a ticket for the next week and to plan on staying for dinner afterward.  I was waiting for her at the stage door that afternoon, as she appeared with tears streaming down her face. I thought she was just emotional from the show (it was a tear-jerker), but she grabbed me, put me in one of her famous bear-hugs and said, "I'm just so proud of you!  Look at what you're doing!"  It was one of the most humbling moments of my life, having this woman I idolized tell me I'd "done good."  We all went out for a nice dinner and spent several hours laughing and sharing stories of the past and present.

Sonja and Paul went on to teach at Cornell University, where I used to work, for three years.  They were absolutely perfect for those jobs and I can only imagine how many lives they both touched during their time there.

Whenever I remember my grad school days, Sonja will always be one of the first people who springs to mind.  Her unabashed joy, her ferocious spirit, her thoughtfulness, her passion for her work, her deep love for her husband, her incredible performances in so many shows and her countless words of wisdom regarding the theatre and life in general will always stay with me. May she rest in peace, surrounded by the love and legacy she leaves here on Earth.

What I do

I arrive at the theatre approximately an hour before my cast.  I print out the day's sign-in sheet and post it on the callboard.  I check and respond to email.  I eat chocolate.  I chat with my friend Tanya about her show and she listens to me talk about mine.  I make sure my assistant and my crew are set up and ready to roll by half hour to showtime.  Once we're set, I go onto the stage, adjust a pillowcase on the bed, which is a part of my set, (this pillowcase drives me nutty--it's always a wrinkled mess) and check to be sure the most crucial prop in the show is pre-set in the drawer of our nighstand.  Once everything's set, I tell the house manager to open house, or let the audience come into the theatre.

Ladies and Gentlemen, good evening! This is your half hour call, half hour til the top of the show.  Please sign in on the callboard if you haven't already done so.  Half hour.

I make my way from the office, where I've just done the half hour call from our phone/intercom paging system, to the callboard. I make sure all of my actors have initialed next to their names to let me know they are present.  If I have general notes for the cast, I write them on the sign-in sheet so they can read them when they arrive.  If I have individual notes, I go to the dressing rooms to deliver them personally.  Sometimes I drop by the dressing rooms just to check-in and say hi.  One of my actresses is a total foodie like me, so she often has tasty treats to sample. Another gets so excited whenever I bring her herbs from my garden.  The guys always have questions about the last show--were they loud enough? Did the audience like the play?  Is there anything that needs improvement?  My ten-year-old cast member likes to show me what she's working on for school and sometimes has questions about theatre life in general.  The personal "mother hen" touch goes a long way in my job. 

I swing by the wardrobe room to say hi to the ladies and check out the quote of the day on their white board.  Sometimes I add one if they haven't already done so.  I also check their makeshift growth chart on a weekly basis to see whether or not I've grown since grad school when I marked my own height. (while wearing shoes)

I wander up to the green room where I check in with my assistant and make sure all the props are pre-set.  I tell my crew supervisor whether or not we're doing a post-show discussion between actors and audience and how many chairs we'll need for that.  I make sure our sound operator has checked the ten-year-old's microphone.  I sit for a bit and visit with the other stage managers or reminisce with the crew about zany things we did ten years ago.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your fifteen minute call.  Fifteen minutes til the top of the show.

This is when I SHOULD cut myself off from all liquids, but in reality, it's when I usually make myself another cup of coffee.  At ten minutes til showtime, I go to the bathroom. I usually go again at five minutes, just to be sure.

The actors slowly trickle into the greenroom in their costumes.  One is in a nightgown, another in a searsucker suit.  One is dressed like Edgar Allan Poe, his bushy mustache darkened with mascara.  I help the ten-year-old adjust her collar, which is always flipped up.  Hamlet is playing in the other theatre, so lots of folks in Elizabethan garb are intermingled with our present-day characters.  Sometimes someone's fake facial hair falls off and we all have a good laugh.  There are people in crowns, people in capes and people in ball gowns.  The crew wears all black.  I wear whatever I want.  It's good to be in charge sometimes.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your five minute call.  Five minutes til the top of the show.

Someone inevitably screams out "I can't pooooossibly be ready!"  I glare at them, wish everyone a good show and head up to the control booth.  The smell of the stairwell still transports me back ten years every day as I begin my climb.  I arrive in the booth, stand for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the dark, lest I bump into a wall, then make my way to the calling desk.  I greet the sound and light board operators, two lovely female interns who do an excellent job and are perfect boothmates.  I peek out my big window to see how many people have come to see our play.  I put on my headset, a lightweight beauty I bought for myself as an opening night gift for my first show of this run.  I check in with everyone to be sure they can hear me and wait for the house manager to call and say everyone is seated.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your call for places. Places please for the top of the show. Thanks and have a good one!

Once the actors are in place, I warn the light and sound board operators for their top of show cues and get my stopwatch ready.  Once the announcement to turn off your cell phones and buy season tickets has concluded, we begin.

Lights 1 and Sound 10...GO.

I call every light and sound cue in the show and cue most of the actors' entrances with cue lights. (On means standby, off means go!)  At intermission, I get a quick bathroom break and refill my water bottle (who am I kidding? I get more coffee!), then head back up to call the second act.

I love what I do.  I'm good at it--better than I ever thought I'd be at anything.  I am so, so thankful to be able to do what I love.  These past 8 weeks have been a whirlwind, but I have enjoyed them so much. 

I call my last show today at 2pm.  Then it's back to the only thing I love more than this:

 

I'd say this is a win-win situation.

One up!

The first of my 2 shows opened yesterday afternoon.  The technical rehearsals for this one were a booger, mostly because it's a new play and we continued to make changes (some minute, some drastic) up until the last possible second.  Most nights last week were very long and I didn't get to bed before about 2am on average all week.  Add the extra kick-in-the-pants of daylight savings to that and you've got one exhausted Jen.  Needless to say, I have loved my day off this week. 

Here's an article about my show, which also includes a video montage with some rehearsal footage.

http://www.montgomeryadvertiser.com/article/20100313/LIFESTYLE/3130352/Nobody-takes-the-stage-at-ASF

We have the daytime hours off tomorrow, so I get more precious hours with Dean and Marcus before heading in for our first rehearsal for the NEXT show at 6pm. (No rest for the weary!)  Marcus and Dean are on spring break this week, so they'll be coming down to stay with me for the weekend.  I can't wait to show them off.

I miss my time at home, but MAN it feels good to be doing my "thing" again.

The first week

My first week back at work went quite well.  I commuted each day from home, which was good for all of us. It eased us into the transition and made sure I got a good amount of Dean time each day.  He's adjusting beautifully to our new schedule and loves having BJ around more. 

I fell right back into the rhythm of my job, as I hoped I would.  Once I spent a day remembering the nuts and bolts of this particular theatre, I was able to dive in and work on prepping for my show.  It felt good to use those parts of my brain again. I was especially proud to be able to do my job and still be a mom.  I made Dean's lunch every day and put him to bed every night.  This week will be a little different, as I'll be spending a few nights away from home, but I've already made his lunches for the week and a few dinners to keep him and Marcus from eating hot dogs every night  give the guys some variety. 

Instead of the apartments the theatre usually uses for housing, I'm staying in an extended-stay hotel for the duration of my contract. At first, that seemed like a drag, but then I realized something:  SOMEONE ELSE WILL CLEAN THE ROOM!  They will make the bed, bring me fresh towels, even run the little dishwasher in my kitchenette.  That?  Sounds heavenly.  I'm going to be very spoiled.  Fortunately, this means I can save my energy for Mondays when I'm sure I'll have plenty to clean up around my house.

 When we are in the rehearsal hall (where we rehearse before moving to the theatre), we put down spike tape on the floor to show where the set will be.  I needed to tape the floor out on Saturday, but didn't really have much other work to do, so Dean came with me.  He had a blast playing with my friend Tanya and running around the big empty room.  He even found a yoga ball in a corner, which entertained him for MINUTES! 

Dean has started showing a real interest in music. He's always been drawn to music, but his interest is maturing a bit, if you will.  Ever since he was a tiny baby, he'd stop whatever he was doing if some music came on, and he'd usually dance or sing along.  The other night, he went up to the theatre with Marcus and walked up to the piano onstage. Instead of running up and banging on it, he climbed up onto the bench and carefully plucked out several notes with his index finger.  Our friend Laurie, who's our music director for the department, said, "You need to encourage that! Most babies that age just bang on it. He's got a respect for the instrument."  He did the same thing with the piano in the rehearsal hall on Saturday--climbed up and started gingerly playing single notes.  I started playing piano by ear when I was 4, then took lessons for 10 years before dropping out to devote more time to dance.  What I'm saying is it's in his blood.  We're not going to push, but we are going to encourage his interest.  Inside I'm squeeing because OMG, how cool would it be to have a little musical prodigy?

On Friday, Marcus cancelled his rehearsal so he and Dean could go to the Expo at the Bassmaster Classic. (For those of you who are clueless as to such things like I am, it's a fishing thing.)  They came home with a giant bag full of fish-related swag, including a set of Mardi Gras beads with wooden bass on them.  Dean makes me wear them around the house. 

Dean had to wear credentials while they were at the Expo.  How hilarious is THAT?

That's about it for us this week.  Next week is going to be insane.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to it.

Have you entered my giveaway?  Don't miss your chance to win a super-cute bib from the great folks at Jaq Jaq Bird!  Giveaway ends 2/28.