Blogging is foreign to me. I'm embarrassed to be writing about mememe, mystuff, MINE, and I have to say I'm even embarrassed to read most blogs. A couple of friends, WONderful writers, really do raise the blog bar, but otherwise--it all seems pretty adolescent.
I mean, REALLY.
That being said: Everything I'm doing lately feels awkward, too young, and undignified. Great big clumsy leaps of faith.
I grew up wildly envious of anyone who moved with fluidity or grace across the dance floor or through life. I love observing confidence. It's mesmerizing--I admire it in others and wonder, voyeuristically, how it must feel. My days in ballet and tap class were excruciating--I preferred imagining myself as Eleanor Powell or Moira Shearer, gorgeous, fearless, and fierce, to watching myself in the mirror, stumbling. My own leaps have always seemed small and lopsided, apologetic.
This week I spent two days at the Book Expo, hanging out at the Branden Books booth with the gracious Adolfo and Maggie Caso, publishers of BITCH, The Autobiography of Lady Lawford, the book I fell in love with and adapted. I passed out flyers and schmoozed strangers--something I'd be terrified and embarrassed to do for money. Since I was promoting my baby, it seemed almost natural. After awhile. Almost.
Yesterday the darling, always graceful, Jenny Mudge donated a poster from Broadway's THE PHILANTHROPIST to use as an "incentive" for $$ pledges on kickstarter.com. I bought a cheap wig that soon will become poor Lady Lawford's head of hair. And today I'll get that cigarette holder, and a wonderful photographer, Ann Blackstock, will take the first photos for "Bitch!" (the play). I hate having my picture taken more than almost anything.
This week I'll re-write some more of my play, internally kicking and screaming. I'll chance a few more of my silly little leaps. And try to practice what I always preached to my students--Out of Your Comfort Zone--That's Where We Grow! . . .Ouch.
That being said: Everything I'm doing lately feels awkward, too young, and undignified. Great big clumsy leaps of faith.
I grew up wildly envious of anyone who moved with fluidity or grace across the dance floor or through life. I love observing confidence. It's mesmerizing--I admire it in others and wonder, voyeuristically, how it must feel. My days in ballet and tap class were excruciating--I preferred imagining myself as Eleanor Powell or Moira Shearer, gorgeous, fearless, and fierce, to watching myself in the mirror, stumbling. My own leaps have always seemed small and lopsided, apologetic.
This week I spent two days at the Book Expo, hanging out at the Branden Books booth with the gracious Adolfo and Maggie Caso, publishers of BITCH, The Autobiography of Lady Lawford, the book I fell in love with and adapted. I passed out flyers and schmoozed strangers--something I'd be terrified and embarrassed to do for money. Since I was promoting my baby, it seemed almost natural. After awhile. Almost.
Yesterday the darling, always graceful, Jenny Mudge donated a poster from Broadway's THE PHILANTHROPIST to use as an "incentive" for $$ pledges on kickstarter.com. I bought a cheap wig that soon will become poor Lady Lawford's head of hair. And today I'll get that cigarette holder, and a wonderful photographer, Ann Blackstock, will take the first photos for "Bitch!" (the play). I hate having my picture taken more than almost anything.
This week I'll re-write some more of my play, internally kicking and screaming. I'll chance a few more of my silly little leaps. And try to practice what I always preached to my students--Out of Your Comfort Zone--That's Where We Grow! . . .Ouch.
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