I was slated to work on a project this fall, and I was looking forward to it.
It was a new piece (which, of course, is exciting to me), and the writer/adapter was going to be involved in the process as well, (which, in theory, is also exciting). We spoke briefly over the phone once, months ago, but that was the extent of our interactions until he flew in from Los Angeles for the casting/call backs last week.
And we didn't hit it off.
Not only did we have unresolvable artistic differences, but we also approached the work in completely different ways.
And, frankly, I just didn't like him.
And he didn't like me.
Our conversations were pretty tense.
I thought I could get along with anyone.
Until this guy.
So I quit.
I called the people in charge the next morning, explained that I probably was not the ideal choice for the project, we quickly found a suitable (and I think excellent) replacement for me who was able and willing to jump in, I stayed to help with the remainder of the casting as best I could, we were civil and professional to each other thru out.
And then I left.
Rehearsals don't begin for another month, so there is plenty of time to adjust to this unforeseeable event (I probably would have stayed on otherwise).
I have never quit anything in my life.
I suppose I should feel disappointed, but I don't. Given the circumstances, I feel only happiness and relief.
I remember being young and so hungry for work that I would do absolutely ANYTHING and work with anyone, no matter what. Just being wanted was enough of a reason: how flattering, to be wanted! How wonderful to have an acting/writing/directing gig! To have anything AT ALL!
So this was a bit of an epiphany for me, I guess:
I'm just not that hungry anymore.
And I'm certainly not that young.