And Then There Were None.

Well, we're done.

This crazy little ride that has been The Mark  is officially over. Complete. It's pretty weird.

Yesterday, my parents finally came and saw the show. I was especially excited to see how my father-- an English major-- responded. Well, as fate would have it, we sold out (again again), so my seat and another director's were given-up for them. Instead of sitting among the audience we sat in the catwalk and watched all the action below. It's almost surreal sitting above everyone and watching from a birds-eye view. You feel removed, completely separated. About half way through The Mark's closing performance (one of their very best, I might add) it hit me this was the last time I was ever going to witness this one-act's performance (at least in this setting). I took a moment to really be present and soak-up the happenings below. Looking at all we accomplished, the full house below, and my parents laughing together gave me a sort of closure on this project. We'd accomplished our jobs. And it was time to let go.

Strike was quick and, before I knew it, we were done. After a lovely meeting with my parents I was home alone, left to really contemplate the last few months. So what did I learn? The answer to that is a lengthy one-- one that I'm honestly still trying to figure out as of yet. So, far, what I do know is:

I learned how to create not one, but an entire cast of characters, and bring them into existence onto a tangible piece of paper completely by myself.

I learned how to let go of each character and give each one individually to an actor.

I learned to hold my tongue when my director was making a choice I just didn't agree with.

I learned the value of a fresh set of eyes and how many wonderful discoveries are made when a director interprets your text in new, creative ways.

I learned how much work goes into a play before a script even reaches an actor's hands.

I learned just how incredible it is to sit back every night and watch the actors work their butts off in a performance while you do nothing.

I hated this process sometimes, but I usually loved it.

Ultimately, I don't know what comes next. I loved serving a dramatist, but still prefer acting in the end, I think. But I don't want to stop writing altogether either. I can't, really. I have a 10 minute play I'm pretty proud of that I'm considering sending to a few festivals after some edits and I'm currently preparing to begin writing a full-length play on my former neighbor, Dr. Ambrose Shields, for my Honors College thesis (more on that later). I'd love to see another one of my productions staged someday. But The Mark will always be special. It'll always be my first. Anna, Reilly, Burke, Max, and Mason will always hold a special place in my heart for bringing this wacky little play to life, and for that I couldn't be more thankful.

Thanks for sharing in this journey,
Elise