by Cameryn Moore
It’s that time of year already. The 2013 Fringe season is still happening, in Vancouver and Halifax and Amsterdam, but applications are already coming due for 2014. I billeted in Manchester with a performance poet who had just come back from Edinburgh Fringe, and had to stay up until 5am in order to submit his application online for the NY Frigid Fringe when early-bird applications opened.
I didn’t eat enough haggis; next year I’m buying some and keeping it in the fridge.
I made the actual decision somewhere in the third week of Edinburgh, down in my venue’s stuffy keg room, with maybe 5 minutes to go before we were rushing into the venue for the next show, and I looked at my tech with bewilderment and said, “I think I’m doing this next year.” Something crystallized in that moment, my stubbornness and ambition and joy in reaching new people, and I knew it was going to be so.
Simple. Appropriate for a writer. And one of the best ways I know to really get my dreams out of my head and into the world. Because it’s not just any journaling. It’s specifically journaling what kind of life I want to lead. Sher recommends doing a day in the life approach, where you describe your ideal day, in all the glorious, mundane and glamorous details: what you eat, what you wear, who you are with, where you drink your morning coffee, what do you see when you look out the window. All of it. And then the point is, you find all of those touchpoints in there, all the things that make that future day really sing, and reverse-engineer it from there.
I rehearse with my director for three hours, and it is hard and frustrating because getting ready for a new show is always that way, but now I have enough under my belt that the frustration is just a sign that the rehearsal process is working. When I look out the window, I see whatever is there, it’s changing scenery, sometimes week to week, but I always take a moment to pin it to my memory, to remind myself, this is where I am. In the future I envision for myself, I have become at ease with my own migratory urges. It is no longer something to fight or regret or cry about late at night.