Imagine yourself backstage, listening to the audience entering the theater. You’re 10 years old, nervous energy twisting through your body.

 

It’s your first lead role: John in Peter Pan - though in costume you look more like an adolescent Ebenezer Scrooge with eye liner. Everyone you know is there to see you. Even your best friend, Sam. 

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Do you know your lines? I hope so, because the curtain is rising. 

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You perform the shit out of it. Captain Hook has nothing on you. Take a bow. You were electric.

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After, you greet the adoring public in the lobby. Do they want autographs? You should have brought a sharpie. 

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Sam approaches to congratulate you on what will surely be a Tony nominated performance. You ask him what he thought of the show. Did he like it? 

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He confirms that his favorite part was “Intermission” and that you were “Not Good.” You accept this critique. After all, Sam is known for having sophisticated taste. Like an 11-year-old Jesse Green. 

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But later that night you wonder “Was I really so bad?” Maybe it was the writing…

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So instead of wallowing in self-hatred, you vow to never let another actor suffer the humiliation of having to perform bad dialogue. It’s up to you to save the theater. One show at a time.