The Phantom of Oz, Installment #29
Plus books, theatre, and snakes
Hello! As most of you know, I’m serializing The Phantom of Oz here in a bit of an experiment. Once a month, you’ll still receive the “regular” Slightly Silly News. If you missed earlier chapters of Phantom, you can find links to all of the earlier installments here.
Many non-theatre folk think that memorizing lines must be one of the hardest jobs of a theatre actor. It’s not, or at least it wasn’t for me. Getting into the reality of the characters, reacting in real-time to the others actors, being present in the world on stage—that’s what took the hard work. Memorizing lines and blocking? Almost embarrassingly easy.
That’s the first bit of background you might find interesting when reading this week’s chapter of The Phantom of Oz. The second bit? Though I still do some voice actor work on occasion and have participated in other theatrical-type events, it has been several decades since I’ve been on a stage as an actor in a typical role. And yet, at least once a month, I have an experience much similar to what Ivy goes through in this chapter. What is it? Read on…
But first (!), I have a few upcoming events I’d like to invite you to:
June 23rd, 6:30 p.m. - Free writing workshop with me and Jennie Bricker - “What Makes a PNW Book? Place as a Character in Storytelling.” Garden Home Community Library, Portland, OR
June 27th, 7:00 p.m. - Jennie and I in conversation at BOLD Coffee and Books, Portland, OR (also free!)
June 28th, 1:00 p.m. - Free writing workshop with me and Jennie Bricker - “What Makes a PNW Book? Place as a Character in Storytelling.” Couldn’t make the workshop at Garden Home Community Library? Come to Cedar Mill Community Library, Portland, OR!
And if you’d like to read my new book, Echoes of the Lost, you can …
And now, on to Phantom!
Chapter 21
Something Uncomfortable, Disquieting, Alarming
In the last installment, Ivy searches for her friend Candy. After a call with Arrestadt, Candy’s director and boyfriend, Ivy decides she’s overreacting to Candy’s absence. She and Arrestadt agree to check in with each other the next morning.
I stood in the stage left wing of the theater, heart pounding. I should have studied the script more. I should have known I couldn’t memorize lines that quickly. Especially Samuel Beckett’s dialogue. His absurdist conversations often didn’t make a lot of rational sense. Did I have time to find my script? Maybe if I could glance at it...
“You’re on.” Someone pushed me onstage. The lights shown bright in my eyes and hot on my face. I suddenly realized I had on only one shoe.Was that part of my costume? I couldn’t see the audience, but I could hear them breathing. It sounded like a big house. A huge house.
What was my opening line? I searched my brain. Nothing. No one onstage, either, no fellow actors who could help me out. I was onstage alone, with one shoe and nothing in my mind. I didn’t think things could get worse. Then the music started.
A song? I had a solo? In a Beckett play? The music wasn’t familiar, and no lyrics came to mind. Maybe a dance. That seemed more likely. The unseen audience was beginning to make impatient noises. I smiled at them and began a sort of soft-shoe dance. “Sort of,” because I only had one shoe. Still I soldiered on, grinning and making great big arm movements, waiting for the music to end or for someone to come onstage and rescue me. Someone in the audience said, “What the hell is she doing?”
Bong. Bong. Bong. The grandfather clock on set began to chime. Was it a cue?
Bong. Bong. Bong. A cue for someone else? Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone in the wings, about to make an entrance. Candy. It was Candy. Thank God.
Bong. Bong. Bong. She took one step onstage, then a white hand reached out from behind the black velvet curtain and grabbed her by the shoulder. She turned to see who it was, and the hand dropped to her neck and drew her in, whether in an embrace or a chokehold I couldn’t tell. “Candy!” I rushed toward her, but the grandfather clock glided downstage and blocked my view. Bong. Bong. Bong.
I opened my eyes, pulled my phone toward me, and turned off the alarm. I lay in bed a moment, heart still beating against my ribs.
They call it “The Actor’s Nightmare.” It’s obviously a stress dream, the theater version of the “I didn’t study for the test” dream combined with the “I’m naked in front of a crowd” dream tossed with the “I just sabotaged my entire career” dream. Okay, that last one may not be a popular phenomenon, but it has to be a thing.
I kicked off my covers, panting. Some dreams felt like movies, something I was observing, but the Actor’s Nightmare always felt so real. I sat up in bed. Oh no. I swung my feet out and stood up. Yes. Oh no. My head felt enormous, my throat scratchy, my nose—Achoo! Great. A head cold. The real Actor’s Nightmare.
A cold may not sound like a big deal, but think about it. We actors make our living with our bodies, especially our voices and faces. A cold can cost us an audition, get us a bad review, and make our fellow actors shun us (“Get away—I am not catching that”). Luckily, I was done with Twelfth Night and had no auditions lined up this week. I had an aerial dance gig on Saturday night, but this was Monday. I’d be fine by the weekend. I could even take some time off work at Uncle Bob’s if I started to feel really bad.
I padded to the kitchen for some coffee. Yes, I know you’re not supposed to drink coffee when you have a cold since it dehydrates you, but coffee is a necessary ingredient in any morning where I have to be upright. I filled the kettle, put it on the stove, and ground my coffee beans. Oh no. I couldn’t even smell freshly ground coffee.
I sat down at my kitchen table to think. The paperwork Uncle Bob needed me to do wasn’t urgent, and my show had wrapped up. I could stay home and take care of myself, and I probably should. I got up to pour myself some coffee. Ah, if I put it right up to my nose I could smell it a little bit. Achoo! Ow ow ow! Hot coffee down my naked body—that’d teach me to sleep in the nude. I lurched to the bathroom, ran cold water on a washcloth, and dabbed at my chest. No blisters, but awfully red. Yep, good day to stay home. Maybe Matt would bring me lunch. Some good pho from the Vietnamese place down the street always made me feel better. Plus there would be Matt. I’d call my uncle first, tell him I wasn’t coming in, then call Matt. I picked up my phone, but before I could dial, it rang. Arrestadt.
“Hello?” Wow. I sounded like a walrus.
“Ivy?”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“It’s Arrestadt. Sorry to call so early.”
“It’s okay. I was up.” I glanced at the time on my phone. Eight thirty. Didn’t we agree to talk at ten?
“You’re an actress and a PI, right?”
“Um...yeah.” I wasn’t at my best in the morning. Especially when I had a cold.
“Great. I want to hire you.”
“To...?”
“We need to find Candace.”
Watch next week for the next installment of The Phantom of Oz!
And if you haven’t read the first four books in the Agatha-nominated Ivy Meadows series:
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