Until this week, I had no idea why I wanted to take an acting class.

Maria and I went to the Oldcastle Theater in Bennington, Vt. a month ago to see a play and Christine Decker and accomplished actor, was the director. After the play, she announced that she was going to be teaching an acting class, and I remember feeling this strong pull on my heart.

I turned to Maria and  said “I think I need to take that class.”

She thought it was a great idea, and so did Christine, who once performed in a short piece I wrote for Hubbard Hall about the hard life of a dairy farmer. The piece was more prescient that I realized at the time, Christine was amazing as the farmer’s wife.

At one point during rehearsal, she cried when reading the troubled woman’s lines, and Red came rushing over her to comfort her.

I love the acting class, I felt from the first there was something powerful there for me.

I was asked to join in some improvisation each week, and also to look for a monologue to read to the class, and if I wished, to perform in the theater at the end of the class. I want to say I have no desire to act or be in a play, I felt there was something there that could help me in my writing, perhaps to open up, or go deeper into myself.

As some of you know, I chose The Love Story of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot, written in the early 1900’s and long considered one of the great dramatic monologues of all time. I first read this work in high school and often cried when reading it, it has always touched me deeply as a cautionary tale about fear and timidity, and the poem asked the question I often ask of myself: do I dare to live a meaningful life?

That, as so many of you know, can be frightening.

I have dealt with fear and anxiety for all of my life. “Pruflock” is a variation of the dramatic monologue, a type of poem popular in Eliot’s time, but rarely heard today. The poem has always been relevant to me, sometimes painfully so. I feel great emotion when I read it, but not when I read it aloud, there is some kind of emotional disconnection.

I’ve worked hard on the monologue, it is difficult for me, as are so many things worth doing. The piece is an examination of the troubled psyche of  the prototypical modern man, eloquent, timid and emotionally stilted.

Reading it for the umpteenth time the other day, and sorting through the sought advice from many readers of my blog, I had a revelation: the work was hitting too close to home.  I might not be showing emotion, but I was sure feeling some.

It spoke to me. I have been struggling with the changes in publishing in recent years, and I have sorely missed the support and guidance of a very talented agent I left in a panic during the Great  Recession. It was an awful mistake and I have paid for it, writers without strong protection are sitting ducks.

I realized that I am not ready to be timid about my work, I am not willing to be set aside or pushed aside.

I wish to keep writing books along with my blog and photographs. I contacted the agent I left and asked him to take me back. He agreed. He has been very successful,  and the strong chemistry we once had together came  rushing back. I was very happy to speak to him, and to be working with him again.

I know we all make mistakes in life, but I think it is very rare to get to take them back.

I needed this internal shove, and it was the Eliot poem that gave it to me.

I think that was why I was in the class, I was looking to find my creative spark and to dare to pursue it with all of my heart again. I felt written off, discarded.

But that is not me, that is not who I wish to be.

Christine told me I must have been looking for something when I decided to take an acting class.

This week, I think I found it. I think I chose this monologue for a reason. I think I now know what it is.

Audio: Reading four verses from “The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock