We're back on.
After being postponed for a year waiting for the venue. Scheduled, cast, rehearsed and then postponed for over a year due to a pandemic. A pandemic. Production of my one act play has recommenced.
Auditions have happened. The play is almost cast. Rehearsals start in August with the premier to be in September.
My poster in the lobby of the theater has been up for a year.
It is a strange situation to experience. A unique and odd community to have joined. Artists whose projects matured just as Covid 19 hit.
There's an article on npr today about a writer whose novel published the same day they shut down the country. Book Published During Pandemic
I've seen numerous articles in the New York Times about Broadway playwrights whose shows closed over night. Artists who first shows in New York art galleries didn't open. A lot of creative expression that suddenly had no place to go.
Of course, the human cost of the pandemic supersedes any artist angst. People died. Often alone. Families lost loved ones unexpectedly. The economy stuttered and staggered along. Heartless politicians fear-mongered distrust and hate between us. But, finally, thank goodness and all those who worked to make it happen, we're coming out of this disaster.
Hopefully, we can all regroup and forge ahead.
I do wonder, though, what first night will feel like after all this time and trauma.