Over the past few weeks of work, I’ve noticed a strange phenomenon beginning to take hold. I described it to the person under whom I’m learning the ropes of the job from, and she knew right away what I was talking about: stage management bliss.
If you’re not in the field, stage management is one of those esoteric disciplines, the definition of which is cloudy at best. The stage manager basically is the eye of the storm during the course of a theatrical production, overseeing and coordinating the entire rehearsal process, and then maintaining the shape and definition of a show once it reaches opening night, after which point the director steps away. The stage manager organizes and schedules not only show staff, but also technical elements – the calling of cues and changes within the performance. And perhaps more importantly, the stage manager is the point of contact for a diverse group of people with unique demands, skills and responsibilities.
Thus, it pays to be able to achieve that eye of the storm type of calm. Everything around you is moving and swirling; dozens of people are moving in different directions; ten different conversations are going on at once, and somehow you’re able to listen to all of them with half an ear, prioritize their relative importance, evaluate their need for an immediate response, and then record any decisions which are made that will affect the outcome of the performance.
Recently, we had a slight snafu backstage during a show, wherein I had to run and find an individual as quickly as possible to make sure things kept going as normal. It was that point where I first noticed stage management bliss really kicking in. I went and found this person, and without saying a single word to them, communicated the immediacy of the need, and returned to my station to continue with the course of the show.
I know from experience that a year or two ago, given the same situation, my heart would have raced during this same sort of under-taking. My mind would have leapt forward, unbalancing not just me, but causing a contagious wave of nervousness to sweep through other staff. But this was not the case. I’ve learned something. Something I didn’t know I had been even working on: the ability to calmly focus within a critical time-based scenario and carry out to my fullest ability a task set before me.
Years ago, before I ever got into theatre, a friend of mine, a career sailor, correctly identified this streak in me. “You’re an adrenaline junkie, like me.” Turns out he’s right, and a career in stage management is an exceptionally rewarding one for people like us. There are days lately where I’m able to “tune in” to the vibe, where my brain empties except for this quiet pervasive buzzing. It’s like a state of nervousness, but except you want it to continue. You somehow thrive on it, even though afterwards, it can take a while to come down off of it. It’s a real high, its a chemical thing. Two or three beers and a meal afterwards can help you cycle back down from it, but I’ve had moments after where I could feel my body on the verge of shaking, teetering right on that edge. And I like it.
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