Opening Night: by David West Read

As opening night of The Dream of the Burning Boy approached, I had absolutely nothing to worry about-aside from the fact that my family and girlfriend were coming in from another country, and my agent and manager would be there, and the teacher for whose class I had first written the play, and a last-minute critic from a major newspaper. And sure, there was also the issue of this being just the fifth production at the Roundabout Underground, and the first spring production, and yes, all of the other productions had been major successes, although the Roundabout crew repeatedly assured me that there was "no pressure." And I can't really say that opening night itself was making me tense, because I'm constantly tense, and this was just the most extreme version of the persisting, unremitting, overwhelming anxiety that I experience on a daily basis. As far as my irritable bowel was concerned, this was "business as usual."

That being said, any playwright will appreciate how difficult it is to sit, or stand, or spasm in the back of a theatre while your play is being performed, knowing that there is absolutely nothing you can do to alter or control the outcome. Your baby is in the hands of the actors, and the audience-passed around like a beach ball at a rock concert-and all you can do is wait in abject terror for it to be dropped on its fragile little head. (For more information on fragile heads, please read my previous entry.)

I know that some playwrights don't like to be in the theatre on opening night, or press nights, but this was my first play, and I wanted to see everything. I've been to the show some thirty times already, and I plan to keep going (if only to make sure the actors don't start changing my lines). I really do love the Underground space, and I love being there. It's such an intimate theatre, which I think serves my play incredibly well, and it's also some five floors beneath the surface of the Earth, which means that we don't have to worry about cell phones going off in the middle of the show, or alien attacks. I'm not positive about this, but I think the Underground was initially a bomb shelter, and the original mission statement of the Underground initiative was The Roundabout Underground… Where No One Can Hear You Scream. (Again, I haven't done any research at all for the writing of this blog, so you might have to check with Wikipedia or FoxNews on that one.)

But I digress. The point is that opening night was very nerve-wracking for me, but ultimately, very rewarding. Some very kind reviews, an extension for the play, and a lot of people "buying" me drinks from the open bar. My sister Robyn and my girlfriend Iris have stuck with me through thick and thin, and I was so grateful to be wedged between these two very special ladies as they watched my play for the first time. My mom and grandma flew down from Canada the week before, and a slew of friends will be crashing with me in the weeks to come. And then I have my new family-my director and cast and Team Roundabout-and while I definitely won't be inviting them to barbecues or even making eye contact with them once the play has closed, I feel so fortunate to have shared this experience with them.

Wow. I feel like I've just wrapped things up. I can't believe I have to write two more blog entries after this! What am I going to say? Maybe I'll start posting recipes. Or restaurant recommendations. That might actually be a good way to get some free stuff. With that in mind, thanks for reading, and EAT AT SUBWAY RESTAURANT.

You can see The Dream of the Burning Boy now through May 15 at the Black Box Theatre at the Harold and Miriam Steinberg Center for Theatre. All tickets just $20.