Episode XXI: Martini, anyone?

Hello, you wild and zany friends of mine!

It is time, once again, for another inspiring installment of The Adventures of SuperMaren (feel free to yell, shout for glee, whoop, take your clothing off, throw small children into the air, or do whatever tickles your...um...fancy). Believe me, it'll take a lot more than a couple of paltry terrorist attacks to keep ME down!

To be perfectly honest, the first couple of weeks after September 11 were very difficult for me, just as they were for everyone in this country, but especially those of us in New York. We were the ones who had to smell that horrible burnt metal/ash/death smell wherever we went, reminding us (as if that empty skyline didn't) that we were victims. We had to pass by hundreds of makeshift memorials and "missing" posters pasted on the walls in the subways, giving us new reasons to grieve each time we passed by. Even today, the smell has not left the downtown area, but life goes on, and so must we.

In the meantime, my superpowers (as well as my patience) have been tested sorely with this new threat of anthrax. I suppose it's just an occupational hazard: one of the main duties of a secretary is to open the mail. It's not very comforting when the girl who delivers the mail to me is only holding it by the corners and tells me to wash my hands when I'm done sorting.

So here I am, living in New York like a James Bond martini: shaken, but not stirred. Despite frequent trips to my "safehouse" (i.e., Ray's place in New Jersey), I've been keeping up with auditions and performances, as well as holding onto my part-time secretarial position at Danziger & Danziger, the law firm. I am now a member of the John Link Vocal Quintet, and have performed three times with them so far. I'm having so much fun with this group, and I get to work on some wonderful music; I know that this group can go far. They are currently looking for a tenor and a baritone to complete the Quintet, so if you are interested, please let me know and I'll hook you up with John.

I have also been cast in a staged reading of "Last Legs," the musical I mentioned in my last installation. Earlier this summer, I had been involved in a project to record a demo CD of this new musical, for which I would sing the part of the lead, Sonia. Much to my surprise, my friends Pete Couchman and Sarah Nadeau (from NEC) were involved in the recording project, too. I went to four or five rehearsals, with the impression that we would eventually record the CD at Sony (Carl, the musical director, apparently had "connections").

Carl recorded all the rehearsals, and took put rough cuts on a tape which he supposedly sent to Sony so that they could pick what they wanted to record. He also sent a tape of the rough cuts to each of us and promised to call us when it was time to record in the studio.

A month went by, and I got a call from Carl asking me to be in a reading of the musical sometime at the end of September. He gave me a script and told me that Robin, the author/director, wanted to meet with me an hour before the reading to go over monologues. I read through the script a couple of times, and kind of put it out of my mind, thinking, "It's a reading, so I don't really have to memorize it or anything." Carl called me a couple more times to confirm the time with me, and told me that the reading would be in the same place as our previous rehearsals: his friend's living room.

This is where I know I should have asked questions. That living room was just big enough to fit 11 people for a rehearsal, but there was no room for an audience. But I figured that Carl had something ingenious tucked up his sleeve, so I went on my merry way to my appointment with Robin.

When I got there, Robin had a friend with him who was his "Assistant Director." He introduced me, and then asked me, "So, what play is your monologue from?" Now, I had assumed he wanted to go over monologues from the musical, so I squeaked out, "uh...'Last Legs?'" No, apparently, I had signed up for an AUDITION APPOINTMENT, and I was supposed to have a monologue prepared. Frankly, I hadn't done an audition for a straight play in years, so I didn't have one readily available. Instead, I stumbled through one of the monologues from the musical, knowing full well that I had completely biffed my audition (it would have been nice to know I was going into an audition to begin with, though). To top it all off, the "reading" actually ended up being a "read-THRU," since there was no audience, and we all just read through the script and sang the songs.

Well, I just got a call from Carl last week that from that crash-and-burn audition I actually landed the role of Chorus Girl #2 (instead of the lead, Sonia, for which, by the way, I never thought I suited. The character description calls for a 40-ish washed-up dance hall teacher). And because I'm Equity, I actually get paid for my transportation to and from the rehearsals. So, all in all, it seemed to work out nicely. The trouble is that it's a really bad play, with no plot to speak of. The music's not terrible, but the style of the music is sort of a cross between "A Chorus Line" and "Pippin." Which makes sense because the big dance celebrity in the show is Bob Glossy (guess who that's supposed to be), but doesn't say very much about Carl's originality. Although I was sort of bitter for not getting the part I had originally sung (which is perfectly natural), I decided to get through this and put another show on my resume.

A couple of days before the first rehearsal, Carl called me to tell me that the woman playing Sonia, although she looked and acted the part wonderfully, couldn't learn/sing the songs, so he wanted me to be Sonia's singing voice ("Singin' In The Rain," anyone?). Somewhat disgruntled, but not wanting to make any enemies, I told him that I would do it, and I went to the first
rehearsal a few days ago. Now, this is supposed to be an Equity staged reading, which means that they have to follow certain Equity guidelines regarding breaks during rehearsal, etc. I was quite surprised when we went for three hours without one break, and then after the fourth hour of rehearsal, we were allowed a half hour for dinner (only because I declared that I was starving). The people running this show are incredibly disorganized, so out of the seven hours that I was there, I actually rehearsed for about one hour. Suffice to say that I'm hopping mad and am waiting to hear from Equity to find out what I should do.

So, those are the adventures in my life at the moment, but be certain that I am having more and more adventures daily. In the meantime, I hope that you are all well, and that you are getting through these difficult times with as much spirit as I know you have.

Love,
Maren

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“Adventure can be an end in itself. Self-discovery is the secret ingredient that fuels daring.” --Grace Lichtenstein