Stage management is an art. While some see it as more of an administrative job or disregard the profession due to lack of understanding, it is the stage manager's timing that is as vital as, if not more so, the timing of the performers. We have to call every cue at the exact right time in order to maintain pace and stunning imagery that puts the icing on the cake of the live action. Of course, this is after ensuring actors make it to rehearsal, communicating between designers, taking notes for the cast and director(s), and keeping any other notes or necessities organized. Stage management is an art because of, and despite all of this work, because it is how a stage manager works that is artistic.
Stage managers must know a show forwards and back. They need to know every actor's twitch, movement, inflection, timing, and spacing in order to run their ship in front of hundreds, or even thousands, of people. Through notes in a script, color coding, and pure memorization is this possible. The lights, flies, set, and sound must all align with a beat of music or actor's word. If a mic goes out or a costume breaks, they must be able to fix it immediately and with ease, maintaining a calm face for nervous actors. I've seen bones break, mics go out, actor's costumes fall off, and house lights refuse to go out. It is with grace that these things must get fixed so that the show can go on.
It is hopefully clear by now what a stage manager does, but I hope it is even clearer how mush I love what I do despite the inevitable mistakes I still make. I am always learning about my craft, even after three years and nearly two dozen shows with numerous companies. How I manage to stay calm, however, is what usually confuses and shocks people. Stage management can be very stressful and I certainly have my panic moments, but the craziest part of everything is that I have some pretty serious anxiety.
A team of medical superstars diagnosed this when I was 13, and I have been treated since. My medicine is strong, but my determination to move past is stronger. From the moment I step out of my car at the back parking lot for rehearsal or a show, until the time I leave, I seem to take on a new character, much like the performers, I aim to assist. My anxiety disappears for a few hours. Poof! Gone! It's an inexplicable feeling and perhaps only relatable to those who deal with anxiety, but it is the best feeling one can experience; to have a total freedom to work and be without worry of a panic attack is one of the few times I live for.
Most people I see have panicked when stage managing, or when something bad happens, however, I become excited (though some of the people on headset may disagree!) I do often sound panicked or nervous, but in truth, I feel nothing even close to anxiety. I think it comes from the responsibility of being the calm in chaos, but I don't need a concrete answer. I know that should someone punch a wall and break his hand (again), or a girl fling her arm through a window whilst simply leaning and cut an artery being rushed to the ER so that a stagehand has to go on (again), I will be able to handle it. However, I also know that should anxiety ever arise or I go into one of my breakdowns of needing silence, a corner, and a cry for reasons unknown, that there will be plenty of people there to switch roles and help me because theatre is a family. I sleep in the aisles, eat around the green room with the cast, hunt for ghosts after the show with the crew, and bake, happily, for the hard working team that it takes to put on a show. In theatre, everyone acts as one- no matter if you're the star or ensemble, volunteer crew, or stage manager, director or producer, usher or house manager; we know that it takes everyone to succeed. No matter the chaos, we will always band together and I, myself, will remain calm, free of anxiety that threatens to strike.
