It’s a bit odd, isn’t it? [Backstage stress. Audience reactions. After-parties.] A [theatrical] life that will never end.
— Julie

It has been over a week since Heaven forfend! opened in Amsterdam. That first laugh, after months of stress, anticipation and rehearsing, turned out to be a golden moment, one I—and, I know for certain, the entire cast as well—will remember for the rest of my life.

After day three, the production had come to an end. We started out in February, last year, when Lenette Vlasman (who played the female lead) and I decided that we wanted to put on a play. Not knowing which play to perform, we picked a two-scene draft of a stage play I had started-and-stopped to write the year before, and, after I added a few extra scenes, presented it to the university for consideration. Well, I say we “presented it for consideration,” but in actually it was more a “this is the play we’re going to do, suck it up” kind of deal.

In May, we casted most of the roles, and when the summer arrived, the production had a full list of characters, the script was ready (though many more versions would follow), and the university had officially accepted the piece.

Let’s flash-forward a bit, to the actual day production began. The actors who didn’t yet know each other introduced themselves to each other, I quickly explained what we were going to do for the next couple of months, and we swiftly moved on to doing our first staged reading. I guess the very first laugh was emitted that day and not last week; and to be honest, I think that one may even have felt greater than the one on opening night. Up to that moment, only a select group of people (three at the most) had read the script, and though I found it funny, it is always somewhat nerve-wracking to anticipate someone else liking it. The months following, we found out that even after hearing the dialogues a million times, situations and people’s expressions stayed funny and hilarious, so I at least thought, why shouldn’t they be to a first-time audience?

Each and every one of us, in the week before opening night, must have thought at one point that the production was doomed to fail, that it could never turn out great, and what-did-we-get-ourselves-into. Though, odd enough, I must admit that I didn’t. When we had a lot of problems (people not showing up, having to be replaced, et cetera) in February of this year, that’s when I thought those things; but last week, I was determined to make it work.

Perhaps a little bit too determined. I lost fifteen pounds, was at one point running around looking for God-knows-what, and couldn’t focus on anything. I was more stressed out than nervous, though; I turned into a nervous wreck the moment the doors of the theatre opened, the people started pouring in, and I was sitting up above, all alone, in the technical booth, watching family and friends sitting down, awaiting the big show.

And then, all of a sudden, it was Sunday. Easter (ironically). After more than a year, the production had come to a full stop, and the life I had gotten used to was no longer there. But what did remain—what still remains are the friendships I gained by working with my awesome cast; the memories of all those late nights, rehearsing, laughing and stressing out; an unhealthy friendship and July trip to Ireland with Lenette, without whom I never would have convinced myself to do this production; photographs and audiovisual proof of last week’s great experience; and a willingness to continue working in the theatrical business, accompanied by a sick addiction to audience reactions.