Sunday, July 01, 2007

And The Winner is...

Fifteen years ago, shortly after arriving in New Orleans, I submitted a couple short monologues to a local professional theatre company, in hopes of getting into their Southern New Plays Festival.

This was at a time in my life (I was only 23) when I didn't think that I couldn't win, that my work wasn't good enough, that I wasn't part of the "in" crowd of New Orleans writers. Turned out it didn't matter, because they picked one of my pieces. It was produced as part of an evening of monologues and short plays - repeated over several weekends.

Soccer Mom came to one of my nights - I have the most wonderful picture taken by the future Mr. Soccer Mom, of SM and me - beaming after the performance. It's one of my favorite photos, and one of the first I stripped from its elegant gilt frame the morning of my belated evacuation from New Orleans.

That night seems so long ago.

I had more hair on my head than on my chest.

Soccer Mom wasn't Soccer Mom yet, and the world knew nothing of Blogging. (Is that really possible??)

Now, don't get me wrong. Soccer Mom was already saving the world, one kid at a time. I had notebooks full of short notes and long essays that have started to find their ways into my posts in the last few months.

I guess we were laying the groundwork for what we'd become.

Has it all turned out the way we imagined back then?

Erm, not really.

Is it better than we knew it might be?

Hell, yes!

Today, I will be heading out the door to church, but on my way, I will be stopping by Le Chat Noir, a sensational Cabaret Theatre that has done a remarkable job of carving out a lovely corner of creativity in the city's theatre scene. There, I will be dropping off my submission for their Fall New Plays Festival Competition. They will be picking only 3 of the first 20 one act play scripts they receive.

I've written something of which I am very proud. Neither Soccer Mom nor I are characters in the story, but part of what I know from her (and the other strong women in my life) has found its way into this piece. Hopefully, I captured how much I adore and respect them all - and I really hope I've allowed these women to come across as real, vibrant beings of passion and joy and pain and daring and love.

It would be almost more than I could stand if they pick my play.

Truth is, seeing this play up on the stage would be exhilirating.

But, if you ask me, I've already won.

I have Soccer Mom in my life.

5 comment(s):

Jenn in Holland

I have come three times now to read this, and still can't come up with anything to add in the comment section. I kinda have to keep wiping tears.... It's just wonderful Ken. This friendship and bond you and SMID hold is just an exceptional thing. And inspirational. I love this tribute to her. She is really something, and maybe someday I get to meet her in the real world too.

I will be holding fists for you about the play contest. That would be more than cool if your piece gets picked.
You'll keep us informed, yes?

Ah, love this post. I am raising a glass to your friendship. And to the fact that I found you and Allison too! Glad the world discovered blogging and that I discovered the blogging world!

Cheers!

soccer mom in denial

Well now, if this gets picked seems I need to see another Ambassador piece. Especially after you wrote such lovely things.

I'm lucky too. Who else laughs so loudly at my bad jokes?

Hug.

Mr. SMID

Thanks for the comment on my photo skills. Since that time they have weakened tremendously. In fact my constant zooming on the videocamera is known to cause seizures. Anyway, I can see that picture in my head from your first performance.

I am counting my pennies for SMID's trip to NOLA to see this next performance, because I know they will pick you.

And thanks for sticking it out in NOLA, a place I physically gave up on long ago and definitely would have after Katrina. My heart is still there but very broken.

Cheers,
Mr. SMID

Gunfighter

Nicely said, Ken!

and good luck!

GF

Jenn

I love how much you and SMID love each other.

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