There was something just so tragic about Williams. He was famous, wealthy, well liked and esteemed but yet one of the most miserable people to walk the earth. Before having ever seen a photograph of him, when I thought of the writer I'd picture Charlie Brown. In a sharp suit. What I know of Tennesse Williams is he was an alcoholic and druggie. He was gay. He'd rather undergo eye surgery than socialize. He was troubled. He was brilliant.
This semester, when studying stageplays I was told to use the colorful characters from Williams' 'Streetcar Named Desire' and choose a scene from the play to rewrite however I'd like. I chose a scene in which Blanche and Mitch were standing outside of the building talking, just back from a date. In my own scene I up-played Blanche's decietfulness and Mitch's nack for being gullible. It was a fun exercise and I enjoyed doing it.
For the college's spring production they were retelling 'A Streetcar Named Desire' in their own playful way. Their project was aptly named 'Chasing That Streetcar Named Desire'. And to my surprise they added my very scene to their play. I was so excited! To have my own work on a stage in front of people? I never thought! I never cared for writing stage plays. But this was an honor for sure.
The last time anything I had written recieved public recognition was in 2007 at a Houghton Mifflin conference in Florida. It was the highest I've ever felt in my life and I knew that this would be finally another high. It's been so long and I felt like I was back on my writing horse. I could not wait to see this play. The anticipation consumed me for weeks.
On the evening of my 24th birthday I went to the college theater alone. Friends and family expressed interest in seeing it with me but I thought it to be kind of intimate. The last time a script of mine was performed (just in a classroom amongst a small group of people) I felt naked and exposed, embarressed yet proud. It was exhilerating. But I definitley wanted to cover my face with a pillow. I knew this experience would give me the same sensation and for at least my first sit-through, wanted to see it alone.
I flipped through the play bill and saw my name printed amongst the "Written by...". My excitement and anxiety reached it's peak just as the play began. It was a great turnout. The crowd laughed and gasped and made all the right reactions at all the right parts. Then my scene. Executed perfectly by a hispanic actress and a black actor with a strong jaw. I leaned forward in my seat. Those were my words being recited. In every movement I saw my own stage directions. I listened and watched and it felt like going to prom.
(((I waited my whole life to go to prom. To wear a gown. Have a handsome date on my arm. Feel like a princess. Have the time of my life. 16-17 years waiting for one night. Then prom night comes and the shoes hurt my feet, the crosage is falling apart, I'm bored,& I don't feel like entertaining the handsome prince on my arm so I pass him off to a dateless girl in my class. They hit it off. I'm free to be a hermit. And at the end of the night not only am I still in high school but I've spent a ton of money on shit I'll never wear again.)))
Going to prom. Everything was perfect. The actors were great. The set, props, costumes, lighting, all great. And yet, no high. No climax. No feeling naked. Nothing. I couldn't tell you why. Maybe because it wasn't really my story. They wern't my characters.That's my excuse. But when the play was over & the lights came on I felt nothing. But older. And completely upset for not getting the high I swore I would. The high I thought I deserved. The high I waited for.
I went straight home, avoiding all conversation, companionship and any attempt at birthday cheer. Until I got home and found in my room a bottle of Merlot with a blue bow on it. I popped it open and thought, 'I promise I won't go killing myself.'
