Archive for December, 2009

My Blog-o-logical* Clock: To blog, or not to blog, that is the question…

 
*blog-o-logical: (ADJ) 2009 term coined by Ann Sachs; often paired with ‘clock’ (N). Refers to psychological stress due to time-lapse between Theatrical Intelligence blogposts.

On Mothers Day this year I birthed my blog. My blog-o-logical clock had been ticking for months, and I thought that after publishing the first couple of posts, the tick-tick-tocking would go away. Ha! That is the equivalent of saying that a mother’s work is complete after childbirth.

I have an idea for a book called Theatrical Intelligence. It’s a concept that uses the theatre production model to impact business performance. My blog is also called Theatrical Intelligence; its purpose is to send my ideas about this new concept out into the world to see what comes back to me. It isn’t working.

Aye, there’s the rub.

Nothing is coming back. Why?

FIRST: I don’t blog enough. Responsibilities to my company get top priority. Make no mistake: this is my choice. I co-own the business with my husband and no one is tying me to my desk.

SECOND: I have been uncharacteristically shy about “sending my ideas out into the world.” I’ve hinted. I’ve joined Twitter, and tweeted as @TheatreSmart. I’ve asked my kids what they think. But I haven’t launched, in the sense of sending my own theatrical rocket into space. 

THIRD: Twitter has an irresistible little feature called a Posterous Page. It is, essentially, a mini blog that is as easy to use as picking up the phone. I gave in to this preposterous temptation and have posted 28 little pieces since November, on what I call my (Pre)Posterous Page.

That puts me exactly 3 distractions away from writing the book. Or are they distractions? My partner Roger Morgan believes that so-called-distractions are part of the gestation period of creativity; natural and inevitable, given that the muse does not descend on demand. (I have encouraged Roger to write a book on innovative procrastination techniques. He informs me that the idea is in the gestation phase.)

Writing the book is the goal, I remind myself. Yet my blog-o-logical clock keeps ticking, an incessant reminder that I am committing blog-abuse.  My blog is hungry and wants to be fleshed out, to grow, to become the catalyst for getting the book out in the world.  Every day my inner critic (the 8th role of Theatrical Intelligence, by the way) prevents me from posting deeply shallow articles.

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.

HOWEVER… cowardice doesn’t seem to fit comfortably. Therefore, I proclaim that in 2010 I will:

FIRST:  L-A-U-N-C-H the blog, such as it is, into the world.

SECOND:  Work on T-H-E  B-O-O-K

‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be wish’d.

Please join me as a conversation partner in this quest, and subscribe to my blog. Pass it along to friends and colleagues. And most important: share your feedback; one of the 6 Principles of Theatrical Intelligence is that “Failure is the quickest way to learn.” If I’m off the mark in your opinion, please let me know. That’s the way this dream will take flight.

Thank you. And may the new decade see your dreams come true.

A “Twipping Point”?

Twitter-Theatre Alliance

Theatre people hug. We get kidded about it a lot.

Recently, I ran into a stage manager I hadn’t seen for years.  Our hello hug was a prolonged, emotional, jumping-up-and-down-squeeze, sort of like Hillary and Tipper at the 1992 Democratic convention. Our shared history returned in an instant as we laughed, cried and reminisced about toiling “in the trenches” on a new play that died too young, and a theatre family that disbanded too soon. We made a date for lunch. Anyone who witnessed our greeting on the street might have concluded that we were long lost sisters.

Last week I had an Ah-Ha moment at a Tweet-Up* here in NYC.  (*Tweet-Up: A gathering of people who follow each other on Twitter, meeting in person, often for the first time.) It is the third such event I’ve attended in as many months, and I simply love them. One Twitter pal after another shared their discovery that “…there is a person at the end of each tweet”, and with childlike wonder described their in-person meetings: “We hugged each other!”  The virtual had become a reality; the theoretical had become personal. The “hug culture” was so new and exciting for them, and we take it for granted in the theatre; it’s an everyday occurrence for us.

Many of the early adopters of Twitter are self-described geeks; brainy kids, inevitably the last ones to be chosen for sports teams. Their thrill has always been using technology to communicate, not sports or academia.  Likewise, those of us in the theatre were not usually the captains of soccer or basketball teams. We discovered a primal form of communication through our school plays.

Twitter and other forms of social media provide a natural alliance between technology and art. My mind reels at all the ways we can help each other navigate this new terrain as we explore its possibilities.

The hug is just the beginning of what could be – please forgive me, Malcolm Gladwell  – a “Twipping Point”. I can’t wait! What about you?


Skip to toolbar