Last time I talked to you, we were on the road to high summer, solstice right around the corner, and I told you about the totality of a production, how it depended on so many things, how its “reality” was a product of so many ingredients, including a particular night’s audience.
Now, the leaves are down, those that remain shudder in their final brown before they disappear under that cold, but cleansing cloak of winter. We are moving toward another solstice, but this time, it’s at the other end of the year.
But I do have good news.
Instead of conversing with you concerning interesting but abstract considerations of a playwright’s craft, I have new of real collaboration.
Lydia and I spent time last week in our studio, talking through Act I, and it blew me away.
Yes, I have a collaborator, creative, incredibly talented, multi-faceted, and brave. The first pieces she’s played for me from One Way In made me shiver, not just with appreciation, but with anticipation of treasures to come.
You’re in for a treat.
I have a new appreciation of the wonders of a partnership, the intersection of two stars that alight separately then align in the joy of mutual discovery, experimentation, and trust.
How lucky am I?
I kept looking around, wondering how it all came to this. If I’m hazy, you might be even hazier, but if so, go back to the beginning of the blog and read all this through again.
Of course, I have to loan her out, to her family, to Revels, her touring schedule, and to her muse, or at least the muse that is not bound up with One Way In.
We will be meeting over the next few months to flesh out the current bones of structure so that we can test what we have to make sure it doesn’t break.
Then what happens?
At that point, we call you in, and you show that you care about what we’re doing, and you create along with us, you support us, you collaborate with us on One Way In.
At that point, it will belong to us.
Lars lost his battle with