When the Show Can’t Go On
Allison Sheff, Features Writer
Niki Hatzidis, Features Editor
Several years ago, I was working in an interim marketing position at a theater company in Boston. My grandfather had been ill for quite some time and passed away a couple of weeks into my time there. I scheduled a trip to fly back to California for his funeral and I promised my boss that I would make the trip brief so that I could be back in time to meet some deadlines for a new show we were opening. In her infinite wisdom, she said “Please don’t. When you look back on this time in your life, I want you to have memories of the time you spent with your family, not that you missed participating in a major life event because you had to meet some marketing deadline. The work will always be there, the time with your family will not.”
A couple of years later, I was directing a two-hander play in summer stock. Two days before we opened one of our actors pulled me aside and informed me that they had had a death in their immediate family that morning. They wanted me to know in case they seemed distracted and not in the moment. To which I replied “Why are you here?? You need to be with your family right now.” We ended up doing that afternoons run-thru and then I sent everyone home. We canceled the evening run through and the dress rehearsal the following night. Opening Night ended up being the first time we ran the entire show with all it’s moving parts. Was it the opening night performance I was hoping for? No. Did it matter? No. What mattered was that the actor was able to grieve and be with their family. Within a couple of performances the show was where it needed to be and our audience was none the wiser.
Being in theater we have a hustle mentality. We’ve all missed birthdays, holidays and weddings in the name of “the show must go on.” We know that if we don’t hustle, we don’t work. It’s the nature of the beast, and so, we sacrifice our own well-being, our memories, our time. However, we forget that what makes us empathetic and interesting artists are our experiences. When we deny ourselves those experiences, we deny the artist in us a chance to grow, learn and become fuller human beings.
When we were all told that we would likely be self-isolating for the next couple of weeks, my first thought was “Finally, I have time for all those creative projects that have been on the back burner!” I should be working on my podcast. I should be working on that outline for the new show I’m working on. I should update my website. I should update my resume. I should look over the edits for another show I’m collaborating on! I’m sure it will come as no surprise to any of you that when I sat down to do all these projects, I stared blankly at my computer screen. I had very little motivation or inspiration to do any of these projects.
The reality was, I was mourning. I couldn’t create anything meaningful because I hadn’t acknowledged what I had lost. My husband and I returned to NYC in 2018, and after a year and a half back in the city, I was finally hitting my stride. I had directing jobs lined up through the fall. I was working on developing a new musical which just had a successful concert and was moving forward. I had a part-time day job that was supportive and encouraging of all my creative endeavors. It was all finally falling into place. Then, within a matter of days, it was all gone. I needed to acknowledge this loss, mourn it before I tried to do anything creative.
So, I made a list of everything I wanted to accomplish during this time period, and then I set it aside. I sat by my front window and watched our neighbors jump in puddles with their two little kids. I took our dog for exceptionally long walks and delighted in how overjoyed he was with all this newfound attention. I spent some much needed time with my husband doing absolutely nothing. I let go of the guilt of needing to be productive, to do busywork. I settled into the moment, I felt my feelings.
Can I suggest we all give ourselves permission to do the same? My social media feeds are currently streaming with people's content. There seems to be a desperation to create, to stay relevant, to not miss out on any possible opportunity. There is also the added anxiety of not having an income, and while those feelings are completely valid, that despair can pull you under. Give yourself permission to have downtime.
Connect with those you love without the pressure of discussing your accomplishments. Allow yourself to be sad for what was supposed to be that is no more. Allow yourself to be in the moment and feed your soul and your experience. Journal. Write your feelings and this experience down. Your future self will thank you. Take this time to examine what is truly important to you and what is worthy of your time. Take comfort in the fact that there are many others experiencing the same feelings of loss and frustration. We are all in this together, and we’re all going to get through this together.
Allison Sheff is a freelance director currently residing in New York City. She received her BA in Theater from UMass Amherst, a certificate in Stage Directing from the Yale School of Drama and is an Associate Member of the SDC. www.allisonsheff.com @mssheff (Insta)
Photo Credit- Ankush Chaudhary