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Talk About What You Love

3/11/2016

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PictureCast members Teddy Crecelius, Melissa Bergstrom, Christa Brown, and Sumit Sharma at rehearsal. Photo by Kate Marple.
I started to write BIG WORK in part because I realized that many people I knew or met for the first time seemed to only want to ask me about how my day job was going, and rarely seemed interested in my creative work. I held onto each instance where this happened so tightly that these small moments eventually grew into good sized resentments that started to affect my relationships. Not good, for my own well being or for the people in my life. 

In the course of writing this play, I have changed. I no longer define myself by the job I have to pay my rent, but by what I consider my work in the world--in the theatre, in my personal relationships, and by my own sense of curiosity and imagination. There's still a lot to figure out, but this realization makes me feel a little freer as I continue exploring my own life.

This week, I have received the most amazing phone calls, texts, emails, snail mail, and social media shoutouts from so many people in my life. Family near and far, friends from high school, college, grad school, my various day jobs over the years, all across the globe...the outpouring has been heartwarming and humbling. Thank you to each one of you who has supported me with this project.

This support, sometimes from the most unexpected of people, has shed light on my past conversations with people in my life around the "How's work going?" question. Up until recently, I would see family or friends or exchange messages online, and people would still ask about my day jobs first. "How's work going?" was often the most frequent question I was faced with. And to own up to my own complicity in this conversational epidemic, I asked that question of the people in my life as well.

Over the holidays and in the New Year, I spent a lot of time with family and realized that the conversations had begun to change. After catching up about the weather and the latest political circus act, people began to ask me "How's the play going? Are you auditioning for anything these days?" I was amazed at this change. What happened? When did it happen? How did I suddenly find myself invited to talk about what it is I love to do?

The explanation is actually pretty simple. I started talking about what I love. In a way, it actually was that simple, and at the same time very challenging. You see, I always assumed people were not interested in hearing about my creative work, but the truth is, that I didn't often give them many chances to be interested. If they didn't bring it up the topic, I didn't talk about it. It wasn't like I brought up a play or project and was flat out rejected. I just didn't bring it up at all. Nobody is a mindreader. I wasn't completely fair to the people in my life in this way. These days, conversations have a different shape, and I too, am being more conscious to ask the people I love questions that show them I want to hear about what is happening in their lives that really matter to them. Instead of talking all about our 9-5's, I get to share news of my play or latest baking adventure, and learn about vacations,concerts, dance classes, sewing projects, and book recommendations. I feel so much more connected to myself and my community. 

You might say, "But I DO talk about what I love, and the people in my life still don't respond to it." This may be the case. You might be putting forth all the effort and feel like you're losing a one sided war. If you are in this situation at the moment, I understand how downright awful that can feel. I've been there, and with some people in my life, I'm still there. It's hard. I'm not saying that it's completely up to you to turn the conversational ship around, but what I am saying is that without effort from you, there's no chance of changing the conversation. Can you still be trying 100% and not be getting anywhere? Sure. But at least if you're trying, you are doing all you can do. And I have a hunch that if you talk about what you love enough, sooner or later it will attract the kind of people in your life that share your love for acting, reading, hiking, whatever it is that brings you joy. And once you find this community of people that are yours, it's much easier to deal with the nay-sayers. 

Start today. Do you have work you really love to do? A hobby that you are super into? Do you love your partner, your pet, your recent trip to California? Then talk about it. Don't wait for someone to ask. Speak up and don't apologize for it. Don't let the fear of sounding strange or different deter you. 

The evolution of conversation and connection may take awhile, but I know that it is possible. Conversations with family that used to start "How's work?" are now "How's your theatre stuff going?" or "What's new in your life lately?" I've been trying to shift this conversation for over a decade now, and the effort on all sides is paying off. 

Don't wait for someone to give you permission to talk about what you love. If you find yourself faced with one of those antiquated questions such as "How's work going?", look the person right in the eye and consider saying something like "It's fine, but what I'm really excited about? The new hip hop dance class I signed up for." Don't let your ship be steered into status quo waters. And who knows? Once you break the mold and start talking about what you really love, I can guarantee that you will inspire someone else to do to the same. 

The process might take awhile, but it's worth it. It may be cliche, but we've only got so long on this earth to explore and connect and experience--we might as well get right down to it. 

What do you love? What matters to you? Do you feel that you get to share that with the people in your life?

In case you missed it, hop over to Howlround and check out my guest blog with the Perpetual Visitors Theatre Company on the process of creating BIG WORK! "Interviewees, Actors, and Audiences: the Theatrical Balancing Act of Documentary Playmaking"

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A Big Question

3/8/2016

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There is so much to share about opening weekend of my play BIG WORK with the Perpetual Visitors Theatre Company, but to be honest, between three back-to-back shows and my day job, I'm pretty spent. I plan to recharge these next few days before our Saturday performance and will share some more musings and thoughts soon enough.  But in the meanwhile,  and keeping with the theme of BIG WORK, big feelings, and big questions, here's a question I have for you all:







This quote from BIG WORK, which happens to be my own, is kind of a neat question to ponder. I think I'm so used to asking myself what I would do  if I had a million dollars and didn't have to work, but this question feels a little different. It's interesting to ask myself what would I do, right now, with my life as it is, if I knew I wasn't going to get paid, recognized, or leave any traces behind.

I may be physically exhausted, mentally spent, and in need of some serious rest and relaxation, but I know that I would be willing to keep acting for the rest of my life. This is not to say I want to do it all the time, or let it push aside my relationships, health, or other things I love to do. It's not to say I don't want breaks from it or that it's without its stresses. It's not saying it's not going to be hard work and that some days are not going to be as fun as others. It's just to say that I love acting enough that I will always be willing to keep doing it, in some capacity. For the rest of my life. 

I'm looking forward to a free evening ahead of Netflix and leftovers, so now it's your turn to ponder this question:

"What kind of work would we do, if there was no guarantee of any recognition or remnants of our efforts? What would we be willing to do, to work towards, invisibly if necessary, every day?"

Feel free to leave your thoughts and comments below, and thanks as always for visiting this dear little space of mine!







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Big Work, Big Feelings, and Jumping the Creative Tracks

3/2/2016

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Happy Wednesday Everyone! It's finally here, the week of my brand new play BIG WORK, with the Perpetual Visitors Theatre Company. I often think about a play as shining light on the "big feelings" of life---joy, fear, excitement, weariness, curiosity, shame, sadness, and hope---and boy, have I felt ALL of these feelings during the course of the last eight weeks working on this play. And seriously, where did eight weeks go?

As an actor, I accept that all these feelings are necessary onstage. In my real life? I have a harder time making peace with all of them. Of course, the real kicker is that all these "big feelings" happen at once. I keep waiting for a time when I can savor the joy I feel during a production without my familiar friend fear intruding our our time together. I often convince myself that I could deal with shame if I didn't have to face it at the same time of feeling tired. But as we all know, we can't special order our emotions and we can't put a hold on certain feelings during the course of a creative journey. It's a big feelings free for all, whether we like it or not.

Another constant creative mirage that haunts me is the vision of having unlimited time to focus on my play. Wouldn't it be easier to deal with pre-show nerves if I didn't have my full time day job, or have to go to the dentist just days before opening? Again, most of us creatives cannot wipe their schedule clean just because we have a creative date approaching. This crossroads offers a hard choice. We can throw the baby out with the bathwater, and allow the flood of "other" responsibilities and stresses to drown out a creative event we have worked so hard for. That is an option--to let the dentist appointments, day job stress, exhaustion, and millions of other things wash away the joy. Or we can choose to let ourselves feel all the big feelings, including the joy and excitement of making something and getting to share it with the world. Will you still feel overwhelmed? Hell yes. Will fear and shame and anxiety still be with you? Of course. But don't shut the door in joy's face during times like these. You worked hard and made something worthy and at the very least, you deserve to take a moment (or many moments) to recognize and enjoy that. Otherwise, what is all the exhaustion and stress and fear for? Don't let those feelings be in vain. That's one of the reasons we work so hard at something--to enjoy the journey, yes. But we'd be lying if we didn't admit that we also like to see how it turns out in the end. 

The other "big feeling" I've been wrestling with this week is vulnerability. BIG WORK is a documentary play and based on other people's words, but woven into the narrative is my own story of struggling with work and my identity. It felt personal to write on the page, but now that I'm facing down opening weekend of the show and the prospect of saying these words aloud, it feels like a HUGE tidal wave threatening to take me under. 

I realized that this nebulous feeling that slowly crept into me this week, tightening its grip is actually what researcher/storyteller Dr. Brené Brown refers to as a vulnerability hangover. What is a vulnerability hangover you ask? She defines it as “the feeling that sweeps over us after we feel the need to connect… and we share something deeply meaningful. Minutes, hours, or days later, we begin to feel regret sweep over us like a warm wave of nausea.”

Sound familiar? I have felt this way for years before performances and presentations, get togethers with friends, and job interviews, but only had the words for it after I read the description by Brené Brown. Just being able to define what you feel is the first and often most powerful step in living with the feeling.  

Usually a vulnerability hangover happens after we share something deeply personal with others. I haven't shared this play yet, so what I'm feeling is technically not a hangover, but perhaps a vulnerability pre-hangover, if such a thing exists? Whatever it is called, it's powerful. All week, I cannot stop thinking about the fact that so many people in my life will be sitting in the audience, watching this play and hearing, among others', my story. Family and friends from near and far, high school and college, my arts community, my various day jobs, old teachers, and acquaintances alike will all be in that space. My palms are sweating and my heart is racing just thinking about it; it induces this feeling of want to run as far in the other direction as I can. At times like these I ask myself "Who convinced you to jump out of this airplane? What made you think you wanted to emotionally skydive?" And then I realize that it was me. I didn't get here by accident. I brought myself here. 

A small benefit of realizing that I did this to myself makes it feel a tiny bit less scary. After all, if I brought myself down this path, I could decide not to jump, right? It's helpful to realize that is a choice. And yet, when Saturday afternoon arrives, I will walk into that theatre and share what I've made. Why? Because the truth is, I want to share it. I want to be brave. I also know my own fear well enough to know that I'm going to experience such joy and exhilaration performing and being fully present in that space that I can't resist that chance. I guess that's why some people get the rush from skydiving. There's the excitement, then terror, and then exhilaration, a true one of a kind experience. A rush of living in the moment. 

Over the course of this play, I have really come to terms with what it means to have a day job and I must say, that I don't struggle with my job defining me nearly as much as I did. So much of that peace I feel now comes directly from the process of researching and writing this play. The idea of someone coming to the performance and hearing these stories and getting to walk away just a bit more at peace or with a few more questions about their job and themselves and the work they want to do in this world is one that also pushes me to do it. 

I'm going to continue to gear up for this perpetual leap of creative faith and wish you the courage to continue with whatever you may be working on or unveiling soon. So often this process feels like the scene in the movie where the hero tries to jump the car or train across the gap, across the missing tracks, over the cliff. It's tense for sure, but most of the times they make it. And the best part about a creative leap of faith? When you share something you've created, you're not risking life or limb, and aren't in danger of physically hurting someone else. In that way, the stakes are fairly low. Here we go. I'll certainly report to you from the other side of my creative tracks and can't wait to tell you what the big jump felt like. I have a hunch it will be worth it. 

If you are in Boston this weekend and next, I'd love to invite you to share this performance with us. There are still a few tickets left: BIG WORK tickets

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    Author

    My name is Melissa and I'm an actor, playwright, author, filmmaker, and teaching artist who wants to help you discover, cultivate, and care for your creativity. 
     
    What does being creative mean to you?

    How do you play every day?

    This is a space for taking a break, a breath,  and finding ways to flex our imagination and find the joy where we can. 

    ​No one is going to present us with a ready made creative life--we have  to step up and gift it to ourselves. I'm so glad you're here.

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