So... I was telling this story and then got sidetracked by a minor fiasco. Hmmm... where was I two months ago? Oh yeah, the production binder that I'd been promised by the outgoing V-Day producer -- the one that would be my saviour and tell me how the hell to put this show on -- never arrived. Nor did an explanation as to why it didn't. I think it may have been a deliberate attempt at sabotage, but we'll never know.
I don't know why I didn't panic. I should've panicked. A normal person would've but I've always been a tad off. Panic I didn't. I put together a small team to work with me and I dove in. I had absolutely no idea how to produce theatre shows, but I DID have a comfort zone. I was comfortable with music shows. I figured it couldn't be that different -- could it? The show had been at the St. Lawrence Centre for the last few years and had cost several thousands of dollars to rent. That made ticket prices pretty high, which was the opposite of what I wanted. I decided to do two shows instead of a one-nighter. One would be a community outreach show, for people in financial difficulty. I knew what it was like to not be able to afford to see theatre. It wasn't so much about making money as it was about sharing theatre and the message of V-Day -- ending violence against women globally -- with as many people as I could. And I wanted people who thought they knew what V-Day was to see it with fresh eyes. I reconceived the setting. If I didn't know what I was doing, then I was going to not know what I was doing MY way.
I was working at the Workman Theatre at the time and was able to get the space for a wonderful price. But along with the down-home community-minded show I also wanted to do more of a gala performance, one that WAS about raising money and that gave the show a hipper, more rock'n'roll vibe that would bring women AND men in and expose more than the "expected" audience to the piece. I wrote impassioned letters to the Mod Club and the Phoenix, and waited for them to laugh in my face. The Phoenix LOVED the idea, and said yes. They were going to let us do theatre -- at the Phoenix! And my heartfelt letter had gotten me the best rental fee imaginable -- $0. I was overjoyed! But the Phoenix had tiny dressing rooms for a cast that size, and the green room was going to be pretty rowdy. I wanted my girls to have a quiet space they could retreat to if they needed to during the insanely long and hectic days. I put on my impassioned letter hat again and wrote to the manager of the Isabella Hotel, a lovely boutique hotel just north of the club. I got a call back at the end of the conversation we had two huge beautiful suites for the entire weekend. For not one dime. It was amazing.
Alright -- auditions! Very exciting, but I'd never auditioned anyone before! An hour into audition day number one, I was feeling something that I can only describe as life-changing. I was more comfortable and sure of myself in that spot that I had ever been anywhere else. In my life. The only other setting that came close was singing my music onstage. There's no way to really describe it without sounding too weird, but discovering my relationship with casting was a defining moment for me. It remains the most mystical part of the process, and in many ways my favourite one. And then rehearsals. How to rehearse these people, some far more experienced than I, in a way that did justice to the show? I was studying acting at school and in that area I was now confident. But directing? All I had was my gut. My gut and my intelligence. And I so made it up as I went along. I went back to my core "inrefutables"... the fact that I'd been a writer since childhood, that I trusted my understanding of the written word and believed in my ability to mine the words for their every meaning, the fact that I had always had good intuition when it came to people and their own truths, the fact that I believed with all my heart that with compassion and passion I could bring out the best in people, and that if I made authenticity the goal I would not derail.
My internal conversation-with-self was going something like this: "I'm directing this show. Okay... breathe. I haven't even graduated yet. It's alright Tanisha... you KNOW this show. You wouldn't have taken this on if you couldn't do this. You've got this..."
I had a cast of 22.
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