What a week. Our five-day run of my new play Satanic Panic came to an end two days ago and my head is still spinning. Thank you so much to everyone that supported us.
From an idea of writing a play about anarchy in London, to spending five painful months writing, re-writing, doubting myself, hating myself, loathing myself, finally finishing the play and thinking ‘This aint actually bad’, putting a cast together, finding a director (Daniel Bailey, what a talent), loosing three cast members with two weeks till the show run, having to write another draft as the cast point out that some of it just wasn’t making sense, sleeping less, loosing rehearsal space, loosing all my budget, considering canceling the production after listening to a song by Big Sean (All Figured Out), having to borrow money from friends, relatives and my girlfriend, realising that every acting and literary agent can’t attend my play because they’re in Edinburgh for some festival that happens now (no wonder the theatre was available all month), being two days away from showtime and having not done a full run of the play, sleeping even less, seeing a full run and thinking to myself “Daniel, you’ve written a terrible piece of pretentious, preachy crap.”, seeing our first day had only sold two of the fifty available tickets was actually bought by my parents. I can’t sleep. This is gonna fail. I’m gonna fail.
But then our first day goes well. Great feedback, good turn out. I get pats on my back and high fives. Reacting looks genuine. People are discussing the themes with me, challenging and agreeing with my points. Quoting jokes. As every night arrives so to does more guests. People laugh harder, we perform better. High energy. Couple good reviews. Some people even attend for the second time. By the end of the run I feel so connected with my fellow cast members and director. They are beyond talent. Beyond passion. They are art. The play lives because of them. I go home and see the desk where this whole journey started, the endless papers of research and old drafts, shocked that we made it to this point. I cry. So happy I could die. I sleep for twelve hours.