CHAPTER 59

There"s nothing like having professionals read—and sing—your script, especially if it"s the first time you"ve heard it out loud. The SoHo loft is chic and spacious by New York standards. It"s still cozy with eight of us sitting in a circle, chairs from the table and stools from the bar pulled around so we"re all facing each other. I"ve always loved the tradition of a reading. It"s like being on stage, nerve-wracking and thrilling at once. It"s not unlike reading my poem in front of Carla, though the stakes are much higher. It"s personal because my work is personal. I sit back, pull the pencil from behind my ear, and tap it lightly against my leg as the actors sight-read a song. The dark-haired woman singing the lead stumbles over a part of the chorus—partly because it"s tricky and partly because everyone"s flag