In anything you write, there's a piece of yourself in it, a glimpse into how you see the world, sometimes a peek into where you've come from or how you've struggled. One year we had a character named Hope whom everybody assumed was me. Busted. Another time I found myself unexpectedly in a little girl character. How weird it was to discover she was me on the last night of performances! How did I not see it until then? I suppose the anxiousness I feel as the show is about to open, is a fear of being exposed. If someone rejects what you've written, it feels personal, like they disapprove of you. I can hide behind the characters a little, but will someone see through them? What will they find and how will it affect their view of me?
We've been doing this long enough now that I'm letting it go for the most part, but this year in one scene there's a few lines that are actual words I have uttered. Every time we run through that scene, I'm stopped short, fighting the urge to look around to see if anyone notices me there.
"There's part of a scene that screams me," I told my husband.
Without hesitation, he rattled off the first line of the series. I was flabbergasted.
"How did you know exactly what it was?" I asked.
"I know you," he said proudly.
At first I wanted to smack him for his smugness, then I worried again that I'd be seen in the script, then I realized the gift. My husband gets me. Something about that makes me as soft and mushy as a marshmallow. This is why it's so easy to share a life with this man, to work closely together. This is why I never get tired of that guy.
He knows me.
And I am one blessed woman.
Just in case you're interested in the program . . .