Harry and I (ON HOLD)

Chapter One: Like A Fish Out Of Water

When I was a little girl in North Carolina, my father brought me to a small theater company rendition of the play, Annie. I remember thinking it was magical—like how it took me back to another era or how it conveys the love between Annie and the multimillion dollar guy that adopted her, Daddy Warbucks. When the play came to a close and we stepped out of the theater, the first thing that entered my mind is that, that was it? To say the least, I didn’t like how it ended. I wanted to dive further into what happened after Annie wasn’t orphan anymore or how exactly Daddy Warbucks became a rich guy—was it old money or did he sold something really helpful—in short, I wanted more and I wanted my version of the ending. When I came home that night, I immediately worked on it, pulling out a notebook and a pen and started writing and haven’t stopped ever since. That was when I realized I wanted to become a playwright—of course, I didn’t know what a writer of a play was called then but I knew that it is what I wanted to be.

Now, 20 years after, I’m living in a tiny shoebox apartment in one of the more dangerous parts of New York. Almost broke—of course—and trying to stage a play. Sometimes, I just wish I was just back in North Carolina, eating my mother’s world famous beef casserole but when I check Facebook and see everyone’s been uploading photo albums of weddings they have been, weddings they participated in or the saddest thing, weddings they planned for themselves, that’s when the hesitation comes in—no, I am not going back there, not even when I’m homeless, poor or starving. Nuh-uh, not ever.

 Staging a play is difficult—staging a play in New York is even more difficult. Especially if no one wants to produce it. Maybe, I should just nip this in the bud and cancel everything. But shit, this is already in the ready to launch stage and it’s actually going live next weekend. What do I do? No one wants to see a low-budgeted play with mediocre theater actors and a half-painted set! Maybe I should really just call it off. It was barely there anyway. I could call myself a barely-there playwright. That sounds… pathetic.

“No, don’t call it off. Never call it off. We’re almost there, Charlie. We have to go through with this, okay?” Angela Wallace said from my kitchen—if you can call it that. This play is the first gig I ever had ever since she became my agent. She called a bunch of producers, casting directors, stage designers and the lots just for me to stage this play but never got a call back. Until an old man from the Upper West Side called and wanted to work with us. It was honestly creepy and a bit odd but it was his dying wish—and he had enough cash so who were we to say no?

“I’m just really nervous, Anj. It’s staging next weekend and my set isn’t even done yet! And my actors suck! All of them! I don’t think I’m going through with this, Angela. Not in this life time.” I said while I re-folded my skirt the third time. I do this when I’m nervous. I pull out the skirt in my hands and folded it again. I am really nervous.

Have I told you I’m nervous? Because yeah, I am.

“Quit it with the folding, Charlotte. It’s going to be fine. We’ve got 7 days left and everything’s going to be ironed out by then. Okay? Trust me.”

“Whenever you say ‘trust me’ though, it usually ends up failing so I should not probably trust you.” I grabbed another one of my laundries and folded it, placed it next to the four-times-folded skirt.

“Oh, pish-posh! It’s going to be fine. Don’t stress about it. Besides, my friend—who’s also an agent invited me to a dinner party in her apartment tonight. I’m going and so are you.”

That is how I ended up in a swanky loft in SoHo with my agent for a fancy dinner party. Of course, as I would have guessed, it was way out of my league. Every woman in this space was wearing a tight-fitted cocktail dress and story-high shoes while the male forms are in tailor-made suits. Here I am, a struggling writer in skinny jeans, a beige sweater and ugg boots—don’t ask. In other situations, like when I make my acceptance speech for my first Tony award, I would have loved all the attention but unfortunately it was not that situation.