I did it.
I wanted to write, stage, and debut a new one-woman show and against all odds I made it happen.
I wrote little by little in tiny windows of time while my baby slept in a wrap on my chest.
I found a tiny little gallery in Chicago that would have me.
I constructed a DIY stage with lights and media from Craigslist and Ace Hardware and what I could find at my in-laws for a budget of $200.
I bought a ukulele and learned how to play it (sort of).
I revised and cut and revised and added until my script felt right and landed at about 7300 words.
I rehearsed nightly in my in-laws’ kitchen. I would put the baby to bed, then move the kitchen table, unfurl my area rug, haul in my lights and set-pieces and start working.
I found the strength and resolution to stop feeling silly and speak my lines out loud even though everyone at home could hear me. I dug deep and pushed myself to create something personal, even though there was nowhere to do it in private.
I memorized until I was full.
I rented chairs.
I invited my family and friends and a few friends of friends.
And on January 8, 2016 The Interior opened at Cynamon Shop to a full house of 20 people. I looked into the eyes of a captivated audience as I did what I do best. I felt in my element and out of my body at the same time.
The big question–Will I still make art without graduate school? Will I still make art as a mother?–has been answered by a clear and definite YES.