Out In The World
Every time I do a show, I write a script. Some people call it a play, and in certain ways it is. I play with real-life episodes and condense the experience and wisdom I gathered from them into a story I can share with my audiences. Not every episode lends to this sort of play, and not two scripts are the same. The work and method I use for developing these depends on the end goal of each story I want to share. There is, however, one common point they all have in common: when I get to share for the first time, I am always a bit nervous about the outcome.
Many times I ask myself, “Why?” Only recently, I found an answer to this question. I believe (and yes, it’s just a belief) that these stories I am sharing are a sort of secret I have been carrying. My close friends and family know about them, but I tend not to share them with many people until I fully understand their meaning. Usually, when I do, I think of them as worthy of being in a show that one day I will do. These stories become a vehicle to talk about things that matter to me or that I believe need to be said.
Deeply personal, I try to make justice with each I share, discovering the right tone, finding the perfect setting, and crafting the environments for people to receive the intended message. Not all projects are received with the same response, and people always have their favorites. It’s part of the journey; nobody should be locked down in one creative lane because of its success. Exploring options, committing mistakes, and reinventing yourself is part of this magnificent journey called life.
I recently shared the first draft of The Hope Theory (still in an embryonic phase) with a trusted collaborator and friend. As usual, I was nervous. This time, even more, because this story is deeply personal and greatly impacts who I am today. On top of it, it deals with a topic that is key to many people worldwide: immigration. As an immigrant, I wanted to tell my story. But every story you share is never only that story. A story is a door opened for different interpretations, for other people to see themselves represented, or the beginning of a dialogue to create change. Everyone will see what they want to see in another person’s work, and that’s the beauty of art.
I don’t think about all these possible outcomes when writing a story, but I know they exist. I treat each topic with the most utter respect for the people who will see themselves represented in it. I can’t tell you writing The Hope Theory has been easy, but I believe the outcome so far is very satisfying. There is a lot of work to be done, and most of that work starts with questions I need to ask myself. What is essential to tell this story? What characters need more or less relevance? What are the critical points of the narrative I am sharing? These and many more are a big part of the conversations that will follow with Frank Marshall and Amy Levinson, the director and the dramaturg of The Hope Theory.
The beauty of putting this first very rough draft out in the world is what I love most about my processes: collaboration. It ceases to be a monologue to become a dialogue. With different perspectives comes a different depth in the work. Different lenses examine my choices, and when I don’t have a good answer to a specific question, I know more work needs to be done. As I am starting the second life of The Hope Theory script, I am happy with the work done so far, knowing that there is much more to be done. Let’s continue working.