Last night, Nick and I had dinner with our director, Adrienne Willams, of our upcoming reading of Imaginary. As we ate and talked shop, we went off on a tangent about why we are still doing theater and why does it drive us. Imaginary was a play that Nick talked to me about 5 years ago and then mentioned to me a year and a half ago. I know a good play when I read it. I know when I want to be fully involved in a potentially amazing piece of art. And with that, we decided to make it happen. So without further ado, I give you my guest blogger, Nick Radu:
When does one “make it” in this crazy business we call entertainment? Is it when we publish one of our favorite poems? Is it when we get cast as a singer/dancer in the ensemble in a Broadway musical? Is it when we sign for a $20 million contract to star in the next superhero movie? Or is it when our words, our direction or our performance make just one person in the community theater audience feel something that they didn’t know they were going to feel before they stepped into that church basement?
I know I moved to New York to “make it” as an actor. I ended up falling in love with all aspects of the business, specifically rekindling my love for writing.
Imaginary came to me one day and I was blessed to watch it come alive in front of me like watching one’s favorite movie or TV show. Soon I was sharing it with professors, friends, colleagues, and family members. I was even more blessed to lay it in the hands of a like-minded, highly-motivated and inspiring friend: Malini Singh McDonald.
Together we have already put up a reading and spread the word on this piece that is so very dear to my heart. We are currently pushing it to the next level, which I know excites us both, while scaring us like crazy at the same time.
I knew this play was going somewhere after what I learned at that reading. I’m not talking about those who praised it afterwards or those who patted me on the back and told me, “I didn’t know you could write, too!” No, I’m talking about those who roared with laughter at the jokes, listened so intently you could hear a pin drop at the dramatic moments, and those who allowed the tears to flow when they were moved to do so. That’s when I knew I had something special. That’s when I knew Imaginary was on it’s way. That’s when I knew I had “made it.”