Listen To Your Mother 2013
Are you familiar with Listen To Your Mother?
Well, I wasn’t until a a few years ago. Then one of my most favorite bloggers ever began writing about it and talking about it on Facebook. Intrigued, I kinda paid attention. The performances are on Youtube – check them out. It is a really cool celebration of motherhood, and women, and writing.
This year, I was thrilled to learn that there would be a local production of Listen To Your Mother. So I pulled one of my pieces from my blog, edited it a bit, and submitted it for the show.
Then I freaked the fuck out.
What was I doing? ACK. WHAT WAS I DOING?
Let’s get it out in the open, friends – this little blog is nothing more than my public diary. I am not a writer, much less someone who enjoys speaking in front of large groups of people.
I was invited to audition.
I tried to practice by reading in front of my husband, but for reasons I can’t explain this made me very, very nervous. I tried reading to myself while I was driving to the audition. I parked on the street 20 minutes early and read to myself while trying not to look like a stalker.
When I read during the audition, I don’t know what happened other than I felt like I left my nerves in the car. I felt okay. I reminded myself how often I read in front of people (I read to K-2 classes on a daily basis). I kept in mind why I wrote what I did, what I was trying to express in that piece, and hoped to emphasize the right words. It was good, especially when the women producing the show laughed in the right places and one reached for a tissue to blot her tears.
I was accepted into the show.
I am not a big “joiner.” I feel really uncomfortable with commitment. But this…wow…I couldn’t be prouder or more excited and terrified at the same time.
I am doing something that scares me – and I love myself for it.