I just attended the last performance of the second play I wrote to be performed this summer. This play was only supposed to run for three shows, but since it was part of a competition, making it to the final round meant that we got a four-show extension.

Other than the performances of these two plays, I spent my summer acting in a play and a film. I've been considering for a few months now where my true theatrical passions lie, and having four projects going on at once--two as an actor, and two as a playwright--provided me with an interesting juxtaposition. I knew throughout it all that I didn't have to choose just yet, but the thought lingered in the back of my mind that perhaps this would give me some kind of answer. Something, even if it wasn't definite or everlasting.

I've spent a lot of years commiserating with A Chorus Line's Diana Morales in my acting classes. Despite the intensity everyone else seemed to feel, I was feeling "nothing," at least not how my teachers said I was supposed to. And was it weird that somehow I never got nervous before going onstage? Did that mean I didn't care?

But the feeling before watching a performance of a play I wrote was anticipation. Anxiety and nausea mixed with excitement and pride. Nervousness like nothing acting brought on for me. And I didn't have to ask anyone for an answer about what I felt as a playwright--it didn't feel wonderful in the moment, but I knew it meant I was invested all the way down to my soul. The vast difference in my anxiety levels was what made me start to wonder.

Maybe I'm not supposed to be an actor.

Maybe that's just not how it was meant to happen.

I'd been telling myself for a long time that I just hadn't had a show I'd been happy in, and that the perfect show was bound to come along soon. I met lots of people along the way, some fantastic and some awful, but even when I adored my cast mates, something always felt slightly off. It seemed impossible that the dream I'd carried with me for so many years could be wrong, but maybe my first love wasn't my forever love. Just because I'd been an actor first didn't mean I always had to be one.

But by the same token, my discovery of a new love that might take precedence didn't mean that I had to give up what impassioned me first. Maybe it means I'll take a break from performing onstage--focus on film, focus on writing, maybe even try my hand at directing or stage managing.

Maybe getting on a stage lost its spark for me because I wanted to explore my whole self, not just the characters I played. Maybe acting started to feel off because I was never supposed to be just an actor. Maybe someday, maybe even soon, I'll find the same joy again in both facets of theatre that have made up my life. Or maybe I won't--I'm not even sure yet. And maybe I'm okay with that.

The incredible range of ways that a person can be involved in the theatre has shown me that I don't have to choose now, or really, ever. I might not have the same acting process that my future cast mates will, but there will be some play, musical, or movie for which my personal process (however short or long it is) is exactly right. And with no uncertainty about it, I know I can't be just an actor, not when I have stories pushing at the edges of my brain to be written.

To quote If/Then, "Love wherever and whenever and however you feel." If that means pursuing five different interests in one field, or one interest in each of five different fields, then that's what you were meant to do. And the dream you had when you started your journey might not be the same as the dream you have at the end.