by Clifford Mae Henderson | Sep 16, 2020 | Dear Reader, The writing life
I’m not sure if I have nothing to say—or too much to say. Either way, I’m on an informal hiatus from writing. The words just kind of stopped. Maybe it was the shock of how quickly Covid changed my life: robbing me of theater, my job, my rituals. Or maybe it’s the...
by Clifford Mae Henderson | Apr 17, 2019 | Musings
The first time I cried on stage was in college. It was a big deal for me. I was in an Acting Shakespeare class and was performing a monologue from Cymbeline. The character I’d chosen was Imogen, daughter of Cymbeline, the king. In the monologue, she is responding to...
by Clifford Mae Henderson | Mar 2, 2018 | Musings
There is a moment in an improv scene, or I should say many moments in an improv scene, when you and your scene partner are standing on the breathtaking precipice of the unknown. It’s a wonderful, terrifying feeling. It can happen like this. Top of the scene: the two...
by Clifford Mae Henderson | Dec 13, 2016 | Musings, Uncategorized
I once had someone say to me, “If I had a room like that, I could write a novel too.” It wasn’t someone I knew, a friend of a friend, I’m proud to say; I like to think none of my friends would say something so foolish. “Really?” I wanted to say, “you think the room’s...
by Clifford Mae Henderson | Dec 3, 2016 | Musings
I got a big compliment the other day. A friend, I’ll call her Mothra, had just handed back my latest manuscript—working title: Perfect Little Worlds—after marking it up with various punctuation and line edits. I like to think of her work as helping me sniff out what I...
