Most of my play rehearsals this week have ended with me writhing on the ground, but I guess that’s to be expected when the written word comes to life.  When I saw the photos of me acting today, I cringed a little—does my face really look like that when I’m acting? Worse, does my face look like that all the time? Let’s just say, I wasn’t entirely pleased with the outside perspective on my work.   Of course, everyone else seems to enjoy watching me languish on the floor in faux misery, and quite frankly, I have a dang good time doing it, too.

Hearing a work read out loud with just the right rhythm and emotion brings an entirely new aspect to any piece of work.  Rehearsing takes the raw emotion of a cold read and refines it, sometimes changes it, until it becomes something greater than its original self. It’s collaborative and personal at the same time, for the performer must reach within themselves to find what makes a piece work, but also relies on the director and/or fellow actors to complete the picture created.  A written work may be beautiful on paper, but when uttered lifelessly in a monotone voice, it instantly loses its splendor.

For me, rehearsing has been about discovering the characters within myself.  When I read my own work, I get to project the vison I have of my world—the sounds and emotions that only I can hear and feel suddenly are released for all to experience.  Acting in plays written by other people is an even more complex processes, as it involves understanding what they wanted out of the piece and adding a personal interpretation.  Rehearsing essentially creates an intimate relationship with a piece of work, and then breaks the intimacy down when the performance is shared.

Sometimes you’ve got to writhe on the ground to make it work, but that’s what rehearsing is all about.