I grew up in Northern California, and while some of my friends grew up on streets with boring names like Little Falls Drive or Quail Creek Circle, names that inspired next to no emotion in me, I grew up on a steep hill on a street called Echo Ridge Drive. The word itself, “echo”, has always sparked my imagination. As I stood in my front yard staring into the green oak filled hills of San Jose, I couldn’t help but feel as though the echoes of the past were sounding for me, that I was connected to everyone who had come before, and in my imagination, I could hear them speaking to me, inspiring me.
Of course that sounds like a bunch of pretentious writer-ly rubbish, but it is for the most part true. The street I grew up on, the idea of those echoes has been a huge influence on me, and has been a part of everything I’ve ever done.
We began working on our production of The Woman in Black in late December. We thought we knew where we were going to perform it. As things often do, things fell through. At the end of January we went on a search for a new venue, but one didn’t exist. Continue reading