Exactly one month ago, I visited the Manhattan Monologue Slam, an amazing evening of talent and energy and support and free wine! It takes place at Ed Bennett Studios, a space in the West Village that houses everything from Ed Bennett himself to Food Network cooking shows to Esquire Magazine photo shoots to the Manhattan Monologue Slam! I went knowing that there was an opportunity to go “balls to the walls” for 30 seconds, meaning there is a portion of the evening that is open to the audience to perform on stage. And oftentimes, high off of the inspiration of the earlier part of the show, consisting of 3-minute monologues delivered by very talented actors, one finds him/herself toying with the otherwise crazy idea!
And cut to me. There I sat, knowing that I wanted to do it, yet simultaneously terrified. I was the only one in my group seriously contemplating the idea…and so I was in this myself…no Bonnie to my Clyde. I knew that I should do it…every instinct in my body knew that I wanted it and needed it and could and should. So, down my name went, on that list of 30 second warriors! My name was called, I hopped onstage, I delivered my 30 seconds, and was received with silence. “That’s it,” I explained. “Ahhhh…” everyone seemed to say before they applauded me off with a nervous laugh. I was mortified. And then I didn’t care. And then people told me it really wasn’t that bad and admired me for even doing it to begin with. I left with a feeling of satisfaction. Thank you, I said to God, for that dose of courage/irreverence to get me up and the wherewithal to get me off.
Cut to two weeks later. I received an email from the host of the show, Phillip Galinsky. He is a hilarious host, first of all. He had everyone rolling on the floor with his jokes, his dances, his sequined purple button-down, and his glitter showers to the audience. I suddenly had an email from this guy asking for my participation in the first half of the show. What?! The first half? the 3-minute monologues in which actors delivered amazing pieces that drew the entire room in to their disposition of anger or comedy or drama in their world of a welfare office or Southern Baptist Church or NY prison…that’s what you think I can do?! I was floored. I had no idea why let alone how or what.
I opted for my first life line…”phone a friend,” and called my friend whom I consider to be an exceptional actor and whose presence at the monologue slam would enable him to commiserate with me on the gravity of the situation at hand. He was happy for me! He understood my anxiety, but he was happy for me. And so, I consented to being a part of their roster and soon found myself at the Drama Book Store searching for the perfect monologue. It was still surreal, I felt, even as I searched for monologues, rehearsed with my friend, rehearsed with the host, rehearsed for Actors InC, rehearsed for my roommates, studied Italian-accented movies, and just dedicated a large part of myself to this “first” for myself.
Last night, I did it. I had a packed schedule yesterday, thank God, protecting me from my own nervous energy. Before long, it was 5pm and time to get ready. I felt the minutes ticking much too quickly as every piece of jewelry and makeup and detail of my costume was so much more important than ever. And then it was time to arrive on set. Oh, and by the way, every spare moment that I had up until this point was spent rehearsing out loud and to myself…on the train platform, in the subway, on the bus, while walking, at the gym…every where, every time. I couldn’t do it enough. And so, when I found myself with 45 minutes to kill at the monologue slam, what do you think I did? It was almost comical as I sought out private spots to practice to myself until someone would inevitably give me a funny look or interrupt me or walk in on me. And I would usually try to act as if nothing unusual had been happening. I probably fooled no one. ha!
At 7:45, moments before the curtain was scheduled to rise, the Galinsky brothers, bless their heart, came down to hold hands with the 6 of us, calm our nerves, give us basic instructions, and love on us. It was such a beautiful moment. I love those guys for what they do. I think I’m going to write them a thank you note. I can’t wait to work with them again soon. But back to the dark moments before my name was called. I stood by the door, unsure even of how to navigate through the lighting cues! “Do I wait for the lights to go off before I start walking? Then how do I see where I’m walking? Do I walk off in the dark after I perform? Then when do I bow?” I probably asked the stage manager more questions about lights than she had answers for. I read her face and saved her, saying, “Nevermind, let me just pray.” And pray I did…for success, success, success, please!
“And put your hands together for our neeeeexxxttt theeeeespian!,” Phillips booming voice commanded the audience. And to a thunderous welcome, I hopped onstage, awaiting my light. On it went, and on I went. With my best Brooklyn accent, head shakes, and hand gestures, I delivered my monologue straight to the back of the room, eyes locked on the spot that I had designated “Angelo,” and with a control, confidence, and comprehension that won me 103 out of 120 points from the panel of judges! I was happy…so satisfied…and once again, I prayed. I said, “Thank you…for the friends that are out there supporting me, for this undue opportunity, for a sound performance, and for the graciousness of the judges…thank you.”
Then I opened my eyes, grabbed my cup of wine, and was off to sit with my friends and support everyone doing the 30-second monologues! The rest of the evening was fun magnified by the relief so welcome after closing the case on this darn monologue performance! I was happy to clap hard for my friends, [one of whom won!], chat with the judges, take pictures, eat, drink and be merry for the rest of the evening.
And to think it all began with a terrible 30-second monologue. All things are possible. Just do it. Just. Do. It.
