I’ve spent the last month re-drafting Act II. I thought it would be simpler than Act I because everyone’s established, I know the arcs, etc. Wrong.

It was harder because while the elements were there, the rhythm was not nor a balance in our dénouement. We have a large cast (18) and a good many of them contribute to where this story ends. The last draft was windy, clunky and a bit forced.

The hardest part, though, was a scene at the heart of the story. The reason is it’s an important scene but probably a scene you’ve seen before. The challenge was to make it unique, realistic, and have some flow. The characters need to say certain things, but they can’t be set up or you’ll know what they’re going to say before the even start. The key was adding an existential edge.

Rehearsal last night was intense. Amongst some great ensemble pieces, we worked on an critical dramatic scene that’s essentially the impetus to change for one of our characters. If it doesn’t work or isn’t convincing, you won’t buy the rest of the show. I re-wrote this scene after the read-through because it was actually a little too harsh (and abrupt). Now that it’s a little smoothed it’s, ironically, more uncomfortable to watch. As always, our actors are doing fine work, finding things between the words.

Jokes! I forgot to mention jokes. This is a comedy, after all.

Okay, back to that blog about balancing all those disparate pieces into something tasty. I’ve written jokes or scenes that crack me up, but just don’t fit in a play. They wind up feeling staged or out of place.

The difficult trick is weaving humor seamlessly into an intriguing story with fleshy characters. As much as I like all-out absurdist comedies, that is not this play (though one scene from the “silly draft” is still in). Sean Patrick Hargadon, who directed me in Twelfth Night (2011, Janus Theatre) taught me that humor is at its best when rooted in reality.

Rehearsals have to be a main reason most of us do shows: a chance to meet new people, explore new characters and situations, create something unique together, and hopefully have some fun.

Last night’s rehearsal was a kick. The focus was the finale, blocking starting to take shape, actors trying out different choices, and steadily finding our rhythm. I can see glimpses of the show this will become. If you like farces (that say a little something), witty banter and physical humor, you’ve come to right place.

Our dear Producer, Katherine Conick, is playing SHANSNA. Katherine is bringing her production, costume, prop and acting skills to STN. She’s working hard to make sure production values are high and that people are having a good time.

My lovely wife, Tiffany Bibby, is playing MOM. Acting pushes Tiff outside her comfort zone, but she was kind enough to indulge me. She is also coordinating costumes and keeping things together at home while Daddy is at the theatre. She is my angel, the woman I didn’t know was in my future when I wrote about IAN.

The delightful Priya Mohanty is playing RETTA. STN is Priya’s first acting gig ever! But you wouldn’t know it from her audition. She did it and the callbacks like a pro, bringing spontaneity to a character that wrecks havoc in IAN’s life. I’m thrilled to have Priya on board for her first (but certainly not her last) production.

The talented Lori Nancarrow Rohr is playing ALICE. My first memory of Lori was her generosity at auditions for “The Man Who Came to Dinner” (Theatre Nebula, 2009; Dir. Jeff Greene). We didn’t know each other, but she let me carry her over my shoulder onto stage.

So, I redrafted yet again after listening to the first read through. Not too much this time, some refining, a little fleshing out of one character’s scenes so she has more depth and impact. There will be more in the week ahead.

As I look over the latest draft of STN, a mix of conflicting thoughts flood into my head. There are a lot of balancing acts:

1. The story. I want to tell a personal story, but one that isn’t too idiosyncratic as to be foreign to anyone except me. Hopefully, the adventure will speak to you.