From the desk of Allegra Lingo

A new year. A new blog. A new homepage.

I learned the phrase “a beer and a bump” last night at a New Year’s Eve Party. Simply but, it’s a beer followed by a shot of something. I’ve always referred to a bump as a chaser, but then again, I’m normally a Straight, No Chaser kind of gal (and a Thelonius Monk fan) Straight, No Chaser by Thelonious Monk . The beer is smooth, pleasant, and it’s not until you hit the bump when you really start to feel things.

2009 was a bit of a beer and a bump kind of year. First 11.25 months? Awesome. Life progressed at a steady and satisfying rate. And then, out of no where, the bump hit. It wasn’t a nice bump, either, like Jameson or Baileys. It was more…Goldschlager mixed with Jaegermeister.

The Dingo home is riding this bump as best we can in the best way we know how–together and ready for the next curveball (good thing we’ve been practicing baseball on the Wii). I can’t honestly say I know what I’ll be doing when the clock hits midnight on January 1st, 2011. I’ve never been one to make resolutions, mainly because I have a hard time staying on top of them, and then spiral into self-loathing when I don’t put my clothes away one day, or drink a second can of Coke. But I do know that I’ve got the following on the schedule, and am looking forward to over the following few months.

1. I’m beginning to teach writing classes online. In fact, the first one is starting January 10th and registration is open right now. I’ve always gotten more joy out of teaching than creating myself. My goal, after all, is to make at least one person’s day just a little better each day. I’m hoping I can make a few people’s days better by guiding them through the writing process and assisting them in finding their own voice. So, if you’re interested in finding out more, click here.

2. People have approached me about being on their advisor teams for creating their Fringe shows. Since I have announced (and am sticking to it) that I’m not creating any more solo shows for the Minnesota Fringe, being able to do this is really exciting.

3. I applied to a juried festival for the first time. With any luck, at the beginning of May I’ll be performing Crescendo at the Dublin International Gay Theatre Festival. And even if I don’t get selected, I’ll know that I tried it, and it wasn’t so scary.

4. I plan to podcast more often. There will be a free feed that you can download from iTunes (currently, search for allegralingo. I hope to learn how to change it to get it a little bit more searchable). Along with learning the software and editing, I’ve got a 49-key midi keyboard attached to my iMac, and it’s cool to begin looking at composing again.

5. The tools are falling into place to start making part of my living freelance writing.

6. My interest in politics and public policy continues to grow. I’m beginning to have original thoughts on the subjects, and now that I don’t have the pressure to continually write for the stage, I’ve found that my intellectual / essay writing brain is taking over. I couldn’t be more excited.

7. Finally, after so long, I’ve finally found the confidence in my writing and my talent to make a go of it. I can’t resolve to have a book out because that relies on so many different factors, but Lord knows, I’m going to try.

So, readers, pour yourself a good bump. Turn on some Thelonious Monk, and relax. The new day is here.

I am starting to feel limited as a writer by my gender.  I figured I should probably start this [what is sure to be a long and rambling] essay with that blanket statement.  I honestly am not sure that I can achieve success in the type of writing that interests me with my name and gender proceeding me.

This is not a hypothetical situation, or an excuse to stop chasing success and succumb to the fear and self-doubt that exists within me.  Every time I’ve performed a show in the Fringe, I have at least one person say to me something like “it’s so nice to come see your shows and not another one-woman show,” or, conversely, ask why I don’t talk about “women’s stuff.”   I asked someone one time what they meant, because obviously what I do is a “one-woman show” simply because I perform by myself and I am, you know, a woman.  Their answer was “well, you know, body issues, bad relationships, or bad childhoods.  You talk about things everyone cares about.”

Their answer troubled me, mainly because I knew exactly what they were going to say.  If you look at my work, I have talked about body issues (my surgeries and my struggles with Graves Disease).  I talk about dating and my relationships, although mainly in passing or cloaked in metaphor because I am, after all, an introverted prude and feel that there are things that are very private.   I can’t talk about a bad childhood, because frankly I didn’t have one.  And, again, anything that could be construed as an issue from my past would once again be cloaked in theory or in metaphor.  Because there are things that are private.

It’s the same in music.  When I meet new people and conversation gets around to me telling stories about being on the road with a band for a few years, more often than not their reaction is, “oh, are you a singer?”

Good lord, no.

And when I tell them, “no, I’m a sax player,” the usual response is either “oh, it’s an all-girl band?” or “oh, really?”

The on the road experience was no different.  I can’t count the number of times audience members told me, “wow, you’re Lisa Simpson!” or “a female sax player.  Never seen that before,” or “you’re pretty good for a woman.”
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