Most of this process has been head-down, one foot in front of the other, fight the fire and check it off the list. It's been emailing, calling, calling back, calling back again, annnnnnd again, chasing people, contracts, quotes, visas and permits down. Lately there's a lot of bumping up against deadlines that seemed so far away once, but are now crawling right up our butts.
Don't get me wrong: it's all amazing. After months and months of chipping away at things, gaining one inch here, one inch there, suddenly everything is moving at light-speed.
You get so wrapped in chasing up all the bits and pieces, you sometimes forget that they actually form a whole. So when, finally and miraculously, the pieces start connecting and the thing starts taking shape, it is no less than astounding.
Tickets are on sale (and they are selling). This seems so simple. If you only knew how much went into the the fact that I can now paste two links and you can buy tickets in London and in Edinburgh! IF YOU ONLY KNEW.
We have the most beautiful tour poster on Planet Earth. This, too, was months and months of chasing, herding, waiting, feedback-ing, hurrying, negotiating. And it was worth every single moment of it.
Julie's home looks, as she describes it, like an ENDURE retail store. It's filling up with boxes full of stickers, temporary tattoos, racebibs, logo-ed umbrellas, crew t-shirts. She has managed the bits and pieces that are all the print and promotional material we'll be using to sell and market the show.
The other day she posted the design for the racebib every audience member wears, which has the show's program printed on the back. For all the productions up until this point, we've done colour copies at Staples and hand-punched holes in them. But this time, we've gone with a real racebib printer who prints Tyvek bibs for real races. Seeing that image and the image of the nine-foot-tall START banner that will be towering above us in the UK, I had a moment of total convergence.
I remember so clearly, sitting with my notebook in 2009, scribbling ideas: how audience members would pick up race goody bags filled with swag, how they'd put on their racebibs and there'd be a Start line, a huge timing clock, Dixie cups of Gatorade. The theatre of race day. It's 2012 now and those Tyvek racebibs and that giant START banner have lifted me up from the head-down work of this production to see that my dream – the secret little "nothing" parts of my dream, the tiny details no one knew or cared about but me, the things I let go of last year because there was no time and no money – are coming true. And they are coming true not because I hammered away at getting those little things but because I have an amazing team of people who have inhabited the vision of this thing and are making it happen.
I am not so great on the details. I will have a crazy, gargantuan, impossible idea and I will dive in with all my being to make it happen. I'll crash around and work my ass off and trust my gut and rally the troops and drive them all crazy. And that gargantuan idea will happen, come hell or high water. But, at a certain point, I'll drop the plot. Especially when it comes to print deadlines and graphic design and promotional stuff and signage. But the beautiful kicker of it is, my team doesn't. They care about those details. They care a spectacular amount.
And now, Julie's lovely home is covered in the incredible logo my friend Russ designed and the unbelievable photo my friend Dan took and the designs Suchan and Jessica stayed up until 2 in the morning to perfect. All of that stuff is there because Julie made sure it got done. We're able to have all these incredibly beautiful things because this tour is fully funded thanks to the generosity of more than 100 people and agencies. People are buying tickets and magical things are happening like crazy award nominations and special VIP showings in London.
And I think about another moment years ago, scribbling in that journal again, thinking not about this show specifically but my life in general. I wrote down a dream that seemed so simple, so far-reaching, so impossible to fully imagine that I almost laughed when I wrote it down. But once I read it, I knew would change everything. Oh god, I remember thinking, wouldn't that be great?! And then years went by with a lot of crashing around, making crazy ideas happen, but now, suddenly I've lifted my head and to find that dream has come true.
My creative work is fully supported.
So this is what it feels like.