Jayme Mester is Kay Swift

I didn't mean to be away so long...but most of you know I have been in Thesis land the last couple of months. Last night, I had my big defense. I had to stage my entire show: acting, singing, dancing, costumes in front of the Thesis Committee and advisors to prove that I am ready to perform it in a month on October 29 and 30. The last time I did this, a year and a half ago, it failed and I was told to re-write my script and the production was arbitrarily pushed back to Fall of 2010. It was devastating in so many ways, there were months I thought the project was completely insurmountable, with no one serving as support or liason who could say, have you tried this or that? Months I thought for sure we were going to pack our bags and leave Boston and no one would have blamed me....except myself.

But last November, when Scott and I were blessed to spend an entire month on Chebeague Island, off the coast of Portland, Maine, it was there that I faced my demons and wrote an entirely new script, out in God's country or the last place on earth, with only 300 residents on the five mile long island. And Scott worked on a cabin, fortifying its 200 year old foundation. We had Thanksgiving for two, welcomed the first winterwonderland, and ushered in the Christmas season by painting wooden nutcrackers while listening to timeless Christmas music on the radio non-stop...and even that script was just a skeleton of what it has become.

The first thing the head of the program said when I finished, with a dreamy look on her face (which is never described as such) was, "This is a good script, in so many ways." After about 45 minutes of feedback and minor adjustments, I got all green lights to perform at the end of October!!! This is the first time in my life that I feel like an artist. Before I just sang other people's songs. But, now I have written a play! Now I understand the fear of the critics, the opinion of family members, the desire to resound with others. It feels exactly like serving your very heart up on a platter, and subjecting it to people's tastes, understandings, perspectives, education and bias, with no protection or recourse. Because not only did I pour myself into this piece, I love it like a parent loves a child. So if others don't love it as I do, all is lost! (not really, I'll still have my MFA!) Please come, one and all. It is for you that we write (yes, I am one of them now!) And let me tell you, this is only the beginning...