1. Direct a Play

Ladies and gentlemen, I am officially a professional theatre director.

Of course, I've directed things before. Scenes and showcases and readings. One acts and 10-minute plays-- usually starring kids and teens or written by kids and teens. But this was my first experience directing a full-length, two-act, grown-up play. And I have never been prouder of an artistic accomplishment in my life.

The weeks and months I spent planning, rehearsing, eating, sleeping, and living Riding The Bull with my friends and collaborators at TheatreLAB were some of the most challenging, fun, exciting, and overwhelming times of my life. And the end result ended up being sorta brilliant, if I do say so myself.

Now,  that could come off as arrogant. And I suppose it would be if it were only my work I was talking about. But I was just one piece of the puzzle. Yes, I chose the script and made decisions regarding casting and design and did all the other director-y things that a director does, and I'm certainly proud of my decisions and thoughts and how they ultimately showed up in the final product. But the wonderful thing about this particular theatrical endeavor was how every single person involved put so much of themselves into telling the story with me. From the production manager who pulled branches out of her back yard and basically packed an entire tree on top of her SUV and brought it to the theatre when one of our set elements disappeared in the second week of performance, to the managing director who baked pies to sell at intermission, to the lead actor who basically furnished the set with items from her parents' farm-- the blood, sweat, tears and family heirlooms of our entire cast and crew went into this show. I'm proud of the work we all did and ecstatic that the final product made that hard work pay off.

Truth be told, I am a little nervous that my next foray into directing will only shy in comparison to this one. I could go on for pages about every step of the process and how fantastic it all felt. And I know from so many of my past experiences with theatre, that though this sort of kismet experience is what we always strive for, in practice, it's a rarity. I especially know that I can't expect every future endeavor to feel as rewarding as this one, but I'll be damned if I don't shoot for the stars with the next one.

And when I get frustrated (because I will get frustrated, even this near-perfect process was far from frustration free), I'll close my eyes, take a deep breath, and go back to Godsburg, Texas, where, in the dirt and dust of a rodeo and a cattle ranch, I first set down my roots as a director.