Hi-I'm a writer and thought I'd use this site to share my recent writings with you all.

The Saga of Backstage
Current mood: amused

I wrote this whilst sitting backstage for the musical I'm involved in, Cats. This is a true story-all characters are real, no ficticious people here!

The story of The Stage Dressing Room Saga
Prologue: Includes lots of yelling, hand flailing, screaming and a wee bit of bitching on the side.
Chapter 1: The story commences. It was just another boring night at the ever-so exciting (not) show of the musical Cats, when the ineffable happened. A door opened with incredible force by she who shall remain nameless. Dressing room number 3 was filled with anger and contempt. 'I just don't understand why-the stage manager could just get one cue right-I mean houselights up halfway through my song?!!!' Innocent vocal trouper, 'half way through your song?' 'Well, towards the end, but still. I mean-what about the non-existent wind cue? Am I just meant to look like an idiot standing on the stage blankly?!' Layers of silk, satin and sequins flowed freely onto the frightened floor as the anonymous person stamped out of the room in a huff. The next ten minutes entailed a rather opinionated make-up/dresser lady talking all about how great the stage manager is. THEN the stage manager came in and bitched (see my book review for The Press in a couple of weeks to discover the meaning of bitching hehe) about actors and how they never listen to her. 'I mean, now that the director's away, I am the one in charge! Why won't they just listen to me?'. What a great story. The End.




I wrote this while I was very bored working at Paper Plus for the day. Yet again, it is another theatre story-this time fiction-not true life, but look out for more short stories about anything but theatre soon!

The stage fight
Vivian stepped behind the dusty wings of the empty theatre. She watched her husband Max with contempt. 'Hey Vivian', Max said, bemused. Vivian looked at him unimpressed. 'What on earth are you doing?', she sighed. 'I'm just warming up'. 'What does that mean?'
'Do not tell me you don't know that, Vivian!' Max sneered. 'Surely an actress of your 'calibre' warms up before entering the realms of the acting world'.
'Don't turn your nose up at me, Mr Smythe'. Vivian knew calling Max by his character's name always drove him insane. Max ignored her and continued shaking his arms and jumping up and down like a madman. 'Anyway.' Vivian spoke with anguish. 'I don't care for 'warming up' anymore than you care for 6 month wedding anniversaries.' Max gave a long look at Vivian, filled with regret and sorrow. 'Look, you know the story. It's not my fault the opening of Hamlet was on that night-'
'But you promised me, Max. I trusted you-I really believed with all my heart and soul you had changed. And now.......'
'It was in the past. Can we just move on, please?'
'No, Max. I will play your wife in this God damn play, but after that, we're finished. I never want to clap eyes on you again.'