(Cue dramatic
organ music and announcer’s deep voice)
ANNOUNCER: Thank you for that word from our sponsor,
Presto Pressure Cookers. And now, for another exciting episode in the ongoing
saga of the Femfest eight-hour playwriting competition. When we last left our
heroine, she was heard to say:
TERRIE: Will the
audience like my little play? Or will they boo it right out of the theatre? The
pressure may kill me!
ANNOUNCER: Let’s tune in as Terrie is escorted by
her longsuffering husband, her cheerleader mother, four supportive friends, her
artsy son, and his beautiful girlfriend to the Asper Centre for Theatre and
Film to see all five mini-plays presented on September 15.
TERRIE: Actually, let’s just fast-forward and forget
the radio drama. (organ music out)
We did indeed enjoy all five short pieces. Mine was
entitled Irony. It fell third in the
line-up and I’ll admit that, judging from the laughter and applause, hope began
to grow in my heart that the audience might actually pick mine. I mentally
prepared an acceptance speech just in case.
But then the last piece stole the show and won the
most votes.
The winner, Frances Koncan, was presented with
flowers by last year’s winner. Frances will now develop her piece, “The
Dance-Off of Conscious Uncoupling,” into a one-hour play to be presented at the
2015 festival next September.
 |
| Page 95 of this book... |
Thank heavens I’m far too mature to go eat worms
just because nobody loves me, everybody hates me, and I didn’t win some dumb
contest. Instead, I decided to go ahead and pre-arrange the headstone for my
grave. Under my name, it will say, “Also ran,” since that appears to be the
theme of my contest-entering history. Plus, it’s an appropriately depressing idea
to embrace while throwing one’s self a pity party.
God and I discussed it. Well, okay. I did all the talking,
reminding him he was the one who got me into this contest. Therefore, he surely
didn’t mean for it to end here, did he? And surely he had heard my family and
friends and even some of the actors say mine was their favourite, hadn’t he?
And surely he realizes I’m not getting any younger, while the winning
playwright is in her twenties, doesn’t he? Tick tock, God.
 |
| ...and page 75 of this book. Too uncanny for coincidence. |
Though I’ve been trying his patience since 1959, he
hasn’t lost it yet. So the next morning, he used two completely unrelated authors
in two completely unrelated books in two completely unrelated rooms of my house
(yet only moments apart) to penetrate my thick skull and help me understand the
difference between “invitation” and “expectation.” He had opened the door for
me to participate in that event and I had accepted his invitation. But instead
of relaxing and loving the journey for what it was, I set myself up for
emotional sabotage by adding my own expectations.
Do you do this, too? It was a good lesson and I wish
I could say with confidence I won’t do it again. I’m not the speediest of
learners.
Then I got a surprise. An email arrived from the
artistic director of the festival. She told me the vote had been “very, very
close” and that she liked my piece a lot. She encouraged me to finish it and
submit it for possible production in next year’s festival! Apparently, the fat
lady has not yet sung.
So if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have an invitation to say yes to.
(cue organ
music)
ANNOUNCER:
Will Terrie learn her lesson? Which of her readers will apply it to
their own situation? Will her play be selected for Femfest 2015? For answers to
these and other monumental questions, tune in same time next year, when we’ll
bring you another exciting episode of Oh the Pressure. And now, a word from our
sponsor, Fresher Pressure Washers—say that five times fast. (organ music out)
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