Blood on the Page . . .

A reading last night of my new play: “SEX or Ode to the Hypocrisy of the Rainbow Nation.”  A quiet esteemed group of actors, directors, theatre makers all gathered at my house to read, eat, and discuss.

Lots of people that came loved it – they hadn’t seen a process like this, where a writer opens up the work so early to dialogue.  People were brilliant in their insight: they know me and let me have it.

I walk away bruised and battered (as usual) although heartened by the sense of community.  The biggest critique being that I am now a technically excellent writer – “very clever” people said, but they miss me in my writing – Where am I? What am I risking? Where is my heart?

“Where’s the blood on the page” a friend says to me the morning after.  And I’m kind of shocked – in many ways I feel like I live so openly and honesty, although from this reading I realize, maybe I am open to others, but maybe I risk less now of showing myself. Hurt, burned, perhaps I’ve retreated.  Another friend says “yes, it’s like the shutters go up, you do that very quickly.”  I didn’t realize.

I’m challenged  to open back up – to put myself out there again in my work.  Damn, this writer life is something else.  I never knew it would challenge my personal issues so directly.  Blood on the page . . . .

One Response to Blood on the Page . . .

  1. Jeff Holzgrefe says:

    It’s very brave of you to open yourself to (constructive???) criticism at such an early stage in the writing process. You should give yourself very great credit for that. Best ones, Jeff

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