Prelude to Bite of the Night, by Howard Barker

They brought a woman from the street
And made her sit in the stalls
By threats
By bribes
By flattery
Obliging her to share a little of her life with actors

But I don't understand art

Sit still, they said

But I don't want to see sad things

Sit still, they said

And she listened to everything
Understanding some things
But not others
Laughing rarely, and always without knowing why
Sometimes suffering disgust
Sometimes thoroughly amazed
And in the light again said

If that's art I think it is hard work
It was beyond me
So much of it beyond my actual life

But something troubled her
Something gnawed her peace
And she came a second time, armoured with friends

Sit still, she said

And again, she listened to everything
This time understanding different things
This time untroubled that some things
Could not be understood
Laughing rarely but now without shame
Sometimes suffering disgust
Sometimes thoroughly amazed
And in the light again said

That is art, it is hard work

And one friend said, too hard for me
And the other said if you will
I will come again

Because I found it hard I felt honoured

Lost in the woods

It's been a long time since I've written, and a lot has happened.

Today, I'm drawn to write because I'm terrified. We're several weeks away from the opening of my second Fringe show, and all afternoon I've been feeling something akin to panic. Like I'm not prepared, like I don't know the way, like the golden thread is eluding me and I'm lost, lost, lost.

The irony is: we're taking Red Riding Hood as our point of departure, so the feeling of being "lost" is laughably appropriate. But standing in the thick of it with no path in sight, it feels like no laughing matter.

There's so much inspiration, is the thing, that the problem more than anything at this particular moment may be that I have too much information, and it's obscuring the story that needs to be told. I have this gnawing feeling that I'm overcomplicating matters by falling in love with so many stories, so many themes (Demeter/Persephone, La Loba, Skin walkers), and trying to shoe-horn them all into one. But I don't know what to strip away when they all seem to speak to me so strongly.

I know that I just have to suck it up and make a choice. I know that I need to swallow the paralyzing terror of being lost in the woods and just strike out into the wilderness, move forward, choose a path. I know that is the next step.

So... Take it. Take a breath. Take a step. Start to tell a story and see where it takes you. Right foot, left foot, breathe breathe breathe...