Thank god there is no script for phone sex, ‘cuz memorizing is HARD.

The play has four seven-minute calls in it, interrupting the title character during an interview with a camera crew. The calls are composites, drawn from archetypes and standard openings and approaches that I’ve gotten pretty familiar with over the past 10 months. The audience hears the phone whore’s side of the calls only, so in theory I could say whatever I want and not be off. But my director likes the flow and the tone of the calls the way I wrote them, with all the pauses and plot points and imagery, and asked that I get as close to the script as possible. What has been challenging for me as a performer is getting as close to the feel of phone sex as possible, without actual input from the other side.

In my head I’m holding on to what I imagine the caller would be saying, to remember when I need to make those abrupt shifts from one track to another. That helps with the lines. But I have to dig deep to reproduce the “surprise” and the “excitement” that the caller would hear, when I already know what’s coming around the corner.

In a real call, I hesitate as a negotiating strategy for getting through the really sensitive stuff. I use non-vocal sounds, reflective responses, and very casual speech to play my part in the two-person improv piece that unfolds. Performative linguists would have a field day analyzing this shit. Scriptwriters, on the other hand, would go bonkers. I mean, I did.

And now I’m trying to put it out there in a way that keeps it fresh for audiences, but reproducibly authentic for myself. Mad props to my director for keeping me on that path. (Yes, Elizabeth, I’m getting back to my lines right now!) And mad props to my callers for staying so insanely unpredictable, so genuinely dedicated to their own turn-ons, that I can’t use a script in my daily work. In real life, I usually have no idea where we’re going. It’s an adventure. Thanks, guys.

At first I was like, holy shit, that is one feisty old foulmouthed PSO bitch. And then I looked at the credits, and it looked like Opal Dockery wrote the piece. So I looked her up in IMDB and Opal is even more amazing than that: she’s a former burlesque dancer/stripper, and she and her son have done a series of short films–both documentary and mockumentary, like this one–plus a book about her work. I am in AWE. I’m going to try to get her on my radio show to interview her sometime, but in the meantime, truly, bow down to Opal. I TOTALLY thought she was really doing those calls. There was some speculation on the PSO forum about what company she works for! Wow. If I can get even one-tenth of her authenticity when I “do the calls” in Phone Whore, I will be ecstatic.

***********

Speaking of the radio show, it’s not on this week, people! I’m going to be out of town until Friday, so y’all should be using this week as a chance to catch up on back episodes of Cameryn Moore, Phone Whore, and I’ll have another all-new episode out for you next Wednesday.

***********

So I sent in my $4,403.76 and application to the Fringe Tour Lottery today. That may be the most money that has ever passed through my hands at one time, all that on a shot to get my play, Phone Whore, into seven fringe festivals at once. Now, if I don’t win this lottery, all is not lost. I get my entry fees back, and each individual festival will be holding its own lottery, starting with Montreal in December and rolling west, so I apply individually and string together the fringe component of the tour that way as well. But DAMN, I want to get the whole Fringe package settled, all at once. I want it so bad, I can taste it! (It tastes like wind and butterflies and the loganberries they use on the Swedish crepes at IHOP, with a slight aftertaste of nervous bile.)

They’re holding the tour lottery in London, Ontario, on Thursday morning, 10/29, and they’ll let people know on Monday. Aw, man. Why we gotta wait? Believe me, if I win a spot from this lottery, I’m not letting anyone wait. No, I’ll make you wait for 15 minutes while I submerge my head in a bucket of champagne, and then I’m gonna drunk-facebook/dial/blog EVERY-FUCKIN-BODY.

Stay tuned.