I’ve been trying to write something about how deeply satisfying and enriching and life-affirming it is to work in theatre. I’ve been trying to write about how three shows I worked on opened yesterday and each one of them was joyful and wonderful and made me excited and elated to watch. I’ve been trying to write about how proud and privileged I am to do what I do. About how it earns me almost nothing but feeds me so very much.
But I can’t write anything about that without sounding sappy. Without sounding too content. Without pulling the curtain well and truly back on the cynicism I project into the world.
So instead, I’ll just tell you that today my voice is hoarse. Today my voice is scratchy and faint from cheering. Today my voice is tired because last night I was so proud and so privileged and so excited and so elated that I cheered and screamed until my throat hurt. Until I’d shouted the house down. Until I’d shouted out all my love.
A version of this post was sent by email on the 23rd September 2018 as part of Internet Care Package.
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