What goes up must come down.

Oh, theatre. This is a perfect statement for you. Yes, it applies to other things like the economy, airplanes and boobs, but never were it more appropriate and so consistently true then in the theatre. In every theatre around the world people spend the better part of a year (sometimes even a lifetime) in pre-production - The Going Up part. That means playwriting, development, connecting, work-shopping the script, fundraising, casting, designing, building, marketing, administering and rehearsing. Then if you're lucky you have a 4 week run. If you're even luckier you have full houses every night with the help of rave reviews and an awesome marketing plan. If you're a genius you get extended. And if you're Perfect Crime in NYC (the longest running show in America, opened in 1987 and still going) you're INSANE! More often than not you have to close - The Coming Down part. What took countless hours, supreme talent, commitment by audience members, human and mechanical energy, blood, sweat, tears, soul-spilling and creativity is over in an afternoon.  Done, kaput, vanished, evaporated, adios. The set is torn down, the costumes are washed and stored for future use, the sound is never heard again, the lights are struck, the actors move on to get other roles, the stage manager is most likely already in tech for another show, the director and playwright (both long gone by this point) are already on to new projects and the producers are praying they broke even. What a crazy path. Why would anyone ever take it? Because you like theatre? Wrong. Like is for 7th grade crushes. Because you're good at it? No, you're probably good at a lot of other things. Because your talented? Talent is relative. Because you don't know how to do anything else? Please. Go back to school, learn a trade, get it together. No. There is only one reason to put yourself through the torture that is live theatre. Because you HAVE to. You get off on the fact that only a small number of people will be witness to your work. You enjoy the intangible nature of an art that can't be held in your hand. You are fed by the immediacy and intimacy of the work. Because you firmly believe that story telling is the only way to save humanity. These plays, these little deaths, breathe life into your soul. Because if you weren't doing theatre you would DIE. So grieve the end of the play, take time to reflect on the good work that you've created, post-mortem all the wins and losses and then GET YOUR ASS BACK TO WORK! There are millions of stories to be told and it's your job to tell them. Stop crying about what you had or didn't have and start putting one foot in front of the other. You will find this bliss again. Because you HAVE to. This has been a pep talk for myself. Thank you.