A different kind of torture.

Today was opening day (and in a bit, opening night) for my short play Daft in Death, one of nine shorts being performed in "BritBits 5" by the Mind the Gap Theatre Company here in Manhattan. It's an eclectic group of shorts performed, written and directed by an equally eclectic group of talented artists. While this wasn't the first time I've been in the audience for something I've written or co-written, it was the first time I've done so for a live performance. The experience was terrifying.

Thanks to the beautiful weather, the audience today was a cozy (and gracious) one, very supportive of everyone's hard work on this project. Still, in spite of laughs and applause, and despite both actors doing great work with the material, it felt like being on trial. Each joke that fell flat was an accusation against me, while each joke that succeeded was merely a mitigating circumstance which could reduce my sentence. Being my harshest critic, I'd like to think that I'm only going to get probation this time. People laughed. That's a good thing. Sometimes they laughed harder at things that were only intended to induce a mild guffaw, and sometimes they were silent when I thought to myself, "oh, come on...that shit's clever! Laugh!", but it seemed to be generally well received by those in attendance.

Tomorrow and Tuesday will be the hardest for me, however, as those are the nights when my friends and co-workers will most attend. The jury will almost triple in size. I'd plead temporary insanity, except everyone who knows me knows that my insanity is far from temporary.