I will, said the Cat. I will, said the Pig.

Andsoshedid is the name of my newly-formed production company. And So She Did. As a young child, I loved the way my mother would repeat those words when she told me the story of the Little Red Hen. "Who will help me plant the wheat/harvest the wheat/bake the bread? Not I said the cat/pig/et al--Then I'll do it myself! said the Little Red Hen. And so she did." The Little Red Hen could do it all. That's how I wanted to think of myself.

I am blessed to know wonderful people who have specialities I don't begin to understand and who are generous in sharing their time and talents. My brother-in-law Mike Johnson is donating fancy "Bitch" graphics and setting up the Andsoshedid website; Tom L, a wonderful actor, has offered PR consultation; and a dear, dear openhearted friend gave me the Fringe registration fee ($550)in exchange for a programme mention of her production company! My former student Taylor has made himself available for brainstorming and errands and fundraising and --well, just about everything. A photographer friend has agreed to take photos of me in the Lady L "Bitch" bookcover pose. Several people have shared detailed info about their own Fringe experiences, and others have helped with fundraising info. Three angel actress friends have helped me get "incentives"--autographed stuff--for raising money. A former co-worker has offered to shoot a short video (if his bosses knew he'd be in big trouble) to put on kickstarter.com, and a fabulous friend (a former Geraldine Page acting classmate) has agreed to shoot a short film for youtube. Yet another friend, a phenomenal playwright, has given me so much help with the play itself I'm embarrassed, he's such a better writer than I'll ever be. Several friends have offered to write small checks, "Bitch" unseen. A couple of people have said to just tell them how they can help. Tonight my ex, Shane, brought me basic organizing materials from Staples. I am grateful, humbled, simply knocked out by the amazing people I know.

But as these stunning gifts move Bitch-on-the-Boards closer to reality---I'm freaking out. It needs a re-write, like yesterday, and I'm not sure I'm up to it. I need thousands of dollars to produce the show. (Getting money together has never been my forte.) I need a director and a stage manager and designers: lighting, costume, wig, set, and sound design. I need a company manager. A producer or two. I need a crew that will cheerfully work for almost nothing, and I need a young actor who is open and confident enough to workshop the piece, FAST!

Is it at all possible that the right people with the right talents and compatible temperaments may appear on time, willing and capable, as graciously, as gracefully, as all the lovely people who already have stepped up to help?

Apparently I'm not the Little Red Hen after all. A play can't be shared like bread, can it? I'm hoping it can be. I have wonderful friends who deserve all the credit --and all the bread--I can give them.