Rosebud, a small Christian theatre guild school in east central Alberta, is where I went my first year out of high school. I was told, early on, that I had the makings of a very powerful actor, but I sabotaged my career there by being such an arsehole.
A few people, Royal and Doug in particular, tried to talk to me about my attitude, but I just kind of shrugged them off. What I really needed, I think, was to have some angry Christian dude grab my shirt and throw me against a wall and scream at me about what an idiot I was being. "Rosebud has thrived without you in the past and it will thrive without you in the future," they should have said.
Later, I'd be kicked out of Rosebud and enrol in the theatre studies department at Mount Royal College, where I continued to destroy any chance of success I might have had. I was unteachable and I refused to take direction. Not good qualities for an actor to have. I don't blame them for asking me to leave.
One of the best days of my life was Feb.22, 1995, when I wrote, directed, produced, and starred in a double-feature play called BARBECUED CHOCOLATE CHRISTMAS BALLS AND THE WRIGHT WAY TO LOOK AT LIFE. The play opened at the Calgary one-act play festival and absolutely bombed. We didn't even get polite applause. The adjudicator tried to be positive, told me that she admired my courage, but I knew that I had just lost the respect of everyone in the audience. I left the theatre and "ran away" for a bit. I didn't go home for three days.
I spent those days going to movies (which I saw with movie gift certificates I'd received for my birthday) and eating out of Petro Canada gas stations (I had a Petro Canada credit card.) I also spent a few hours wandering through Fish Creek Park in the freezing cold. During that walk, I looked at myself self-critically for the very first time. I realized (or, since I'm Christian, I guess I should say that God helped me realize) that it's dangerous to think of yourself as a genius. Not everything I write is going to be excellent simply because I wrote it. If you really want to create a magnificent piece of art, then, brother, you're going to have to work at it. And don't ignore other people's opinions because chances are, they can see something that you can't.
It was great. My attitude virtually changed overnight. The next year, I won the best original script award at the Calgary One-Act Play Festival for THREE SCENES FROM A BUS SHELTER. An actress from Mount Royal, who I'd always admired, even agreed to act in it, and this was one of the most flattering moments for me as a playwright. My sister and brother also took roles in that show. Interestingly enough, my sister is not an actress, though she's the only one who has acted in three of my plays.
I've never had a play professionally produced. It's a dream of mine, but not a big one. Still, the guys in Rosebud flattered me last winter by agreeing to do a reading of my fledgling script, MINIMUM WAGE, which was heavily influenced by David Mamet's play LAKEBOAT.
Sitting back in "the Bud", surrounded by all the new technology and seeing all the old faces, made me wonder what life would have been like if I'd had a winning attitude when I was 19. Maybe I'd still be in the Bud. Maybe I'd actually be able to sing (not likely.)
Well, we are our experiences, I suppose. I just felt it comforting to know that there is forgiveness.
My memories of Rosebud are good. The only bad ones are of the stupid things I did.
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I like to think that the failure of Barbecued Chocolate Christmas Balls was the single greatest thing that ever happened to me. If I could have gone back to the theatre with a post BCCB mindset, I might have developed into a decent actor.
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