Happy April. This is my second blog in this space I call The Garden. I feel insecure writing it. As a storyteller, concept creator, stage director, casting director, and choreographer for three decades, I’ve used words to craft hundreds of pitches, communicate with collaborators, interact with the media, and write out the stories that would eventually find their way to stages. So why do I find it so challenging now?
It may be because I cultivated a habit of presuming that my honest, deep-down thoughts did not deserve a public space. Even with my name on the marquee as a story author, I trained myself to write, to pitch, to direct, and to choreograph according to what I think others wanted to hear. To impress. It worked – until it didn’t.
Please don’t get me wrong, I loved every moment of my stage career creating and telling exciting, emotional stories. But over time, I unconsciously separated my thinking into two piles: one pile was my private thoughts, free-flowing without judgement; and the other pile was my carefully articulated deliberations that were deemed either good or bad – based on commercial success.
It’s healthy I think to keep our private and professional lives separate.
But in a free-lance profession where ‘you’re only as good as your last job’, the second pile took precedence by far. I needed to hone in, quickly, on the wishes, needs and objectives of others to keep working, to pay for diapers, mortgage, and basketball camps. That’s noble, isn’t it? At least that’s what I convinced myself.
Here’s one way I would do this. Say, for example, I was asked to create a story for a big show about gardens. In my research, I would identify and borrow sayings about gardens by famous artists or philosophers. Sayings like:
“To plan a garden is to dream of tomorrow.” – Audrey Hepburn
“The April winds are magical, And thrill our tuneful frames; The garden-walks are passional To bachelors and dames.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
I would integrate these quotes into the formal pitch of an elaborate story concept. It gave the story idea greater weight, I thought, greater proof. “See”, I would justify to myself, “if Ralph Waldo Emerson or Audrey Hepburn said it, it must be good, it’s gotta help.” It wasn’t enough that I had spent months or even years cultivating an idea – it needed to be validated by someone more famous than me.
Another example: eight years ago, I was hired as author and director of a mega stage production in Berlin, Germany. Near the end of the rehearsal period, I was asked by the producer to provide a ‘message from the director’ that would be printed in the glossy program for a half a million spectators to see. It took me a couple of days to craft my message. In it, I included a quote from Shakespeare. I forget now which quote it was.
Before it went to print, my colleague read it over and respectfully said to me, “Krista, your message is strong. Can I ask why you include a quote from Shakespeare? He has nothing to do with the writing of this show. Consider taking it out. Your words can stand alone without it.”
I remember it taking cosmic courage for me to remove that quote. To trust my own words were worthy enough.
Needless to say, I’m working on this.
So why do I call this space The Garden?
Well, it’s not because of the “magical April winds” Ralph Waldo Emerson talks about, nor the “dream of tomorrow” Audrey Hepburn beautifully describes. It’s because, for me, a garden is mundane.
The tilling, the watering, the checking, and the loving when a tiny green tomato bud appears. No need to dress up, dress down or get dressed at all (I mean, out of my pajamas). I can just be – weeds and all. And I would be giddy sharing my latest garden ‘news’ with my husband Paul. I’d pay attention to time zones to call up my mom and dad to tell them my big news.
In today’s world, ‘special’ has come to imply ‘superlative’. I have come to refute that. My garden in our backyard is big enough for six plants and is in a raised wooden box, a rectangle of dirt from which half of the seeds fail to sprout (my excuse is that it’s due to the Las Vegas heat). I would not describe it as ‘amazing!’ or ‘remarkable!’. But it’s mine. It’s impressive to me. The masses won’t care, but my nearest and dearest do.
I want to live in a world where the mundane has a special place. I’ve created Sincerely Yours because I deeply, deeply believe our everyday stories are a source of pride, joy and uniqueness. This space is dedicated to bravely tilling our gardens.
After all, our ordinary moments provide the springboard from whence our grandest achievements spring.
Didn’t someone famous say that?
