Middle Berth, completed
So, the play's officially complete. I put the finishing touches on it yesterday morning at my trust internet cafe. I actually cried a little, if you can believe it. I know... Sarah Lee, emotional? What is this business? It was an amazing feeling, actually. I hadn't realized how much of myself I'd put into this project until I finished it. It took up a lot of my time here, sure, but it took a piece of my heart to work on it as well. As I wrote in my introduction, the moment that I decided to interview women to write a play in India, I made the commitment to enter into others' lives. I start to believe in characters in novels that I'm reading, and they aren't even real. Well, debate's still out about Harry Potter, but I'm guessing you see what I'm saying.
Writing this was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I sat for hours in our little ACM library, holed up with the door shut and the tape player on. When I'd been conducting my interviews, I figured that I was getting the hardest part out of the way. I asked the difficult questions, I tried to push through the language barrier, and I tried to capture each woman's story the best I could. But sitting in that room, listening to the disembodied voices pouring out their life stories, I almost couldn't do it. Some of my interviews had been surface-level and provided me with a comfortable distance. But others were honest, and they cut deeply.
One of my most intriguing interviews happened at the start of my project. I'd written a bit about my first weekend in Mumbai (I believe it was a "Part I" that I never added a "Part II" to), but I haven't really mentioned this interview. I'd gone to a flat in the city to interview a serial (soap opera) actress, and I'd met her mother during the process. Her mother, Anjalai, asked if I would like to speak with her as well. I had another hour or so left in my time there, so I put a fresh tape into the recorder and sat back to listen. She spoke a bit of English, a rare thing for a woman over seventy. I asked her to tell me a bit about her life, explaining that if she spoke in Hindi or Marathi I could get the tapes translated later. To me, the most important thing was that the women could feel comfortable expressing themselves.
With that cue, she began to speak. She started out in English, telling me about her work for the Indian government and her marriage to her late husband. After about five minutes, her eyes took on a faraway look as she slipped into Hindi. For the next hour and a half, I sat mesmerized as she told me her life story. She'd laugh and then become suddenly serious, at one point furiously wiping away tears. The entire interview (not that I asked questions, really) was in Hindi, but I was spellbound. Afterwards, she hugged me and thanked me, telling me that she had never told anyone what she'd just revealed to me. I had met her less than an hour earlier.
It was moments like that that instilled a fire within me. Sure, this was a fun project, but it become something so important that I was terrified of messing up, of not doing justice to the women who took the time and the faith to tell me about themselves. What I ended up writing could never be perfect, but it feels right. As I mentioned before, the process isn't over. I'll be returning to India whenever I can scrap the money together, because I have so much more to learn and write.
But so far, it's off to a good start. Since my interviews were with mostly middle- and upper-middle-class women, I chose Middle Berth as the title for this play. Once I get the copyright straightened out, I'll put it on here. Until then...
Love,
Sarah!
Writing this was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. I sat for hours in our little ACM library, holed up with the door shut and the tape player on. When I'd been conducting my interviews, I figured that I was getting the hardest part out of the way. I asked the difficult questions, I tried to push through the language barrier, and I tried to capture each woman's story the best I could. But sitting in that room, listening to the disembodied voices pouring out their life stories, I almost couldn't do it. Some of my interviews had been surface-level and provided me with a comfortable distance. But others were honest, and they cut deeply.
One of my most intriguing interviews happened at the start of my project. I'd written a bit about my first weekend in Mumbai (I believe it was a "Part I" that I never added a "Part II" to), but I haven't really mentioned this interview. I'd gone to a flat in the city to interview a serial (soap opera) actress, and I'd met her mother during the process. Her mother, Anjalai, asked if I would like to speak with her as well. I had another hour or so left in my time there, so I put a fresh tape into the recorder and sat back to listen. She spoke a bit of English, a rare thing for a woman over seventy. I asked her to tell me a bit about her life, explaining that if she spoke in Hindi or Marathi I could get the tapes translated later. To me, the most important thing was that the women could feel comfortable expressing themselves.
With that cue, she began to speak. She started out in English, telling me about her work for the Indian government and her marriage to her late husband. After about five minutes, her eyes took on a faraway look as she slipped into Hindi. For the next hour and a half, I sat mesmerized as she told me her life story. She'd laugh and then become suddenly serious, at one point furiously wiping away tears. The entire interview (not that I asked questions, really) was in Hindi, but I was spellbound. Afterwards, she hugged me and thanked me, telling me that she had never told anyone what she'd just revealed to me. I had met her less than an hour earlier.
It was moments like that that instilled a fire within me. Sure, this was a fun project, but it become something so important that I was terrified of messing up, of not doing justice to the women who took the time and the faith to tell me about themselves. What I ended up writing could never be perfect, but it feels right. As I mentioned before, the process isn't over. I'll be returning to India whenever I can scrap the money together, because I have so much more to learn and write.
But so far, it's off to a good start. Since my interviews were with mostly middle- and upper-middle-class women, I chose Middle Berth as the title for this play. Once I get the copyright straightened out, I'll put it on here. Until then...
Love,
Sarah!
posted by Sarah! at 3:20 AM
3 Comments:
Allow me to take this moment to congratulate you. Now allow me another moment to be super jealous of you, since I'm lazy and haven't even written a good poem in months. :-D Congrats Ms. Lee, I hope to see a copy soon!
Wow, Sarah! Great blog info that I haven't read in a couple of days, AND your play!! Pretty moving , by the way... we'll talk later- can't wait to see you!
So,
we tend to feel great satisfaction in our abilities to talk things out and make them understandable. it is the whole journey versus the goal theory. not understanding but still trying and caring is pretty great. Good Luck.
Seth
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