“Once More to the Stage”
Mid-late October of the year 2008--my sophomore year of high school--a day like any other day, complete with running from class to class, sharing quick friendly “hellos” with my friends who I just so happen to pass by. Everyday was the same, from my first period class of Chorus, with Mrs. Howard, to my ninth period Spanish class with one of my closest of friends, as we would then race home as soon as the bell would ring. Everyday was basically the same to me, aside from maybe a few different faces I’d spot in the hallways. One day, it changed just a tiny bit and exploded into a completely new journey for myself. A new opportunity came to my ears as I was told about the chance to go spend a week at the Bay Street Theatre in Sag Harbor. Staying afterschool once, only because I had missed the bus home, and I had learned about the chance through a friend of mine, Angelina Modica, and as soon as the last word escaped from her lips, I calmly walked (though I would have much rather ran) to the Chorus room where Mrs. Howard quietly sat in her chair filling out a few papers. For one of the quickest moments, a word of advice I had received from my father rang out through my thoughts—“If you want something for yourself, you have to do it yourself and don’t let people take it away from you.” Maybe those weren’t exactly his words, but something along the lines of that.
The feeling of the pounding of my heart pulsed through my chest. Wanting would be an understatement of how much I longed to go to this place. My mind was filled to the limits and beyond of the thought of beginning my dreams of becoming an actress and playwright. So I followed my fathers’ words and I went through for myself and only myself, not telling a soul about the opportunity. It was there in that chorus room where I was put on the list of possible people to attend where people like Alec Baldwin and other actors began their careers.
A few days later, I received word from Mrs. Howard that I would be going on the trip during the first week of November. My feet would not stay still as the rest of my classes went by. By the end of the day, I was sitting in my chair so impatiently waiting to run home to scream at the top of my lungs of how excited I was to be going spend a week at the theatre.
I had heard stories about this place from past alumni. Of course, all were good comments so I only expected better and more, having never travelled there before. My travelling companions were to be Angelina Modica, Bret Tucker, James Fink, and former students John Laadt and Jack McKillop. Perhaps, if putting all their levels of excitement together wouldn’t equal the level of mine.
Finally, the day came were I would be leaving to journey out to Sag Harbor for this new experience. The bus ride was rather quiet, or so I recall. But we were the second school to arrive and as I opened the door and slowly trekked my way to the area where they call it the ‘Black Box.’ The floor was nothing fancy, just a black floor with miscellaneous pieces of tape scattered about the floor. But it was a stage to me, where anything could happen, even if it wasn’t an actual stage with the traditional red velvet curtains tied up with a gold rope like I would spot in a theatre in New York City. It was warm inside, very warm; sadly, my jacket sleeve refused to come off of my arm. A new set of people walked in and owner was introduced as everyone joined in a rather large circle to play some sort of name game while doing some little odd gesture. Saying my name, my hands rose up like the soul of one of those jazz singers back from the 1920s had taken control of my movements. The rest of the week was certainly a wonder that could only happen once to a few lucky few. Happily, I was one of them.
At the theatre, we were charged with one simple task—to write an original play, and have the chance for it to be produced within the theatre. Seemingly not a hard task at all, right? Please, rethink those words, especially when the writer’s block begins to settle in my mind and all I want to do is tear out my hair. But in the end, I knew it would be all worth it.
While writing my little two-person play, when no one would be around, acting it out myself would be the best source of my inspiration. The street was my stage. The moonlight was my light shining down during the last minutes. The falling autumn leaves were my red velvet curtains. The entirety of the play I had envisioned was coming to life right before my very eyes and I couldn’t have been more thrilled to be able to have this way of thinking.
Friday—the last day. The day where all the plays would be shared and read aloud. Two people were chosen to read for mine, Bret Tucker just so happened to be my leading male, while my new friend Mia was my supporting female. Overall, the way it was portrayed was very well done. Afterwards, it was time to go back home, our school-free week was over though it felt as if it had barely even begun. Again, the bus ride home was quiet. All we could do now was wait to see who would be the lucky one of us to have their show picked.
The last days of November and early days of December—word had begun to pull in; the winners were to be announced. The odds were against me, for all my companions had written such wonderful pieces, even Mrs. Howard was betting against my play. Strangely, there was something pushing in the back of my stubborn mind that was telling me to my hopes held high to be named victorious.
My heart was beating in the back of my throat day by day. “Any day now.” I told myself in the quietest of voices, repeating it every now and then. In the middle of eating my cold sandwich, I was called in to speech with Mrs. Hoard—there, right there, was a sudden felt of a sharp rock being stuck inside my throat, like the air was taken from me as she began to read.
“Congratulations.” It began to list the winners from the schools in alphabetical order. There again was the feeling of my heart, but this time it was in my stomach. ‘Tori Silverman and her play, “So Close.”’ Pinch me, I must be dreaming… I won. It must have been so that my heart stopped beating and threw itself from my chest and out the window into the freezing December weather. Mrs. Howard smiled up at me and I just had such the expression on my face. I couldn’t believe it. My body felt as if it were going to faint right on the spot! My play had won and I would be going back to the place where I would make all the magic happen, as the supporting female with Bret Tucker by my side as my lead.
Spending a week and a few days practicing within the band room, my excitement began boiling up again once more. I was going back. My mind could still not believe it. All of the hard work had paid off. All of the writer’s block and the acting in the street had paid off. I had won and I would be going back to be center stage once more.
The day came where I would be going back for the first time since I had left that one Friday a month ago. Walking into the Black Box, it felt just a little different. It was much cooler, the lights were slightly dim, and the faces were much more familiar. Every show ran through their shows, I stared with anxious eyes to know what was picked. Our turn came to finally practiced, and but of course, Bret and I ran through with precision, perhaps only needing to stop once to figure out where one little thing should be kept.
December 13, 2008—the day of the performance. My heart was racing like a racecar pulling around the last bend of the final lap. Time was running out and all that was on my mind was the thought of the famous actors who began their careers here. This would be where I begin mine.
We go out into the ‘Black Box,’ and all I can imagine is my excitement and thought of my future. Lights on, we begin. Continuing on, all goes well and no mistakes, gratefully. Bret and I say our final lines and exit off. The audience goes wild. As we walk out to take our final curtain call, I move towards center stage with such grace and poise as I modestly take my bows with the widest grin upon on my face. Right there, I knew that I wanted to be doing this forever. The sound of applause invaded my ears as grinned once more and backed towards Bret and my stage manager, Rachel Lucas. For a moment, the world seemed to stop as my eyes glanced around the audience. My stage is all around me, just waiting to be performed on.
This is an essay/story that I wrote for my AP English class to match the story, "Once More to the Lake," by E.B. White. I felt like sharing with you guys because I almost feel like this is the piece that broke my writer's block. I hope to be returning to you all will more stories. (: Oh and the names in here are real names, please don't stalk them down. XD;
