Some of the contributors for Sucker for Love, The Book, were asked “If you were going to send a Valentine’s Day card to SpeakeasyDC, what would it say?”

Here are their responses:

Vijai Nathan:

“Take off your clothes & let’s make out”

Jessica Piscitelli Robinson

“Practice safe love.”

Anne Thomas

“Thank you for loving me as I am.  For encouraging me to share Read More

by Cindy Kane

“How’d rehearsal go?” I asked my husband as he walked through the door.

“Well…”

I looked up. “Well, what?”

“Well…it went fine. Except that since you weren’t able to go they had someone else read your story.”

“WHAT? Really? That’s so…awkward.”

He nodded. “It was really awkward. Poor Elizabeth…” Read More

by Cindy Kane

Once upon a time I had a fantastic idea. And I mean FAN-TAS-TIC. I’m an idea girl, but this one was particularly genius. While going through the after-school activities offered at my daughter’s elementary school, I thought it would be a lot of fun to offer a storytelling class; to get the kids up on stage telling stories while they were still so uninhibited. We’d spend several weeks working on the different aspects of storytelling and getting the kids comfortable on stage and using a mic. And then, at the end of the class we’d do a real Open Mic for the kids. Maybe at Town Danceboutique, the wonderful space where SpeakeasyDC hosts its monthly open mics. Read More

by Cindy Kane

“Mama?” ONE whispers. “Look over there!” I turn my head to see dozens of fireflies, strung like tea lights in a tree. She leans into me and sighs. “Will you tell me a story?”

“What kind of story?”

“One where you did something really bad and was embarrassed and wished you’d never done it but got in trouble anyway?” 

I laugh. Of course she wants that kind of story. But I don’t have stories like that…that she’s old enough to hear. That she’ll ever be old enough to hear.

“Pleeeeeeeease?” She squeezes my hand.

Truth is, she doesn’t need to beg. I’m already sifting through memories in hopes of locating one that’s age-appropriate. One we can laugh at together. Read More

by Cindy Kane

10.) The relief you were expecting to feel as you bowed to the applause of a sold out crowd doesn’t surface. Instead, the feeling spreading through your gut is more reminiscent of childhood ice-cream-in-the-dirt sadness. You trudge back to the dressing room s-l-o-w-l-y, taking comfort in the fact that your wonderful friend made you so many cookies that if six fall in the dirt, you’ll still have six more to binge on.

9.) You still automatically run lines the moment you step into the shower, or wander into a quiet part of the house. Read More

by Carol Scott

When I decided to tell a story to 130 of my closest coworkers at our annual all-staff retreat, I knew one of two options could happen.

One, my colleagues would alternate between hysterical laughter and heartfelt empathy as I shared a new side of myself. My boss would cry tears of joy. I’d get a raise, just for being awesome. Or two, I’d perform to deafening silence, my coworkers would flare their nostrils with disgust and I would be brought up at office happy hours for the rest of history as “The Weird Girl Who Rapped About Jack Kerouac At The Company Dinner.”

Okay, probably neither of these options were going to happen — but I was definitely risking major embarrassment. Still, this was a story I’d already polished earlier this year for SpeakeasyDC’s Sucker For Love show, I’d be performing one hour into the open bar, and this was at an open-mic “talent show” expressly for the purpose of getting to know one another. So, I went for it Read More

by Cindy Kane

“Mama? I had ANOTHER DREAM last night,” my 5YO tells me. She paces the bathroom where I’m applying my face and peeks up to take in my response. I nod my head, motioning for her to continue. “I don’t know if I should tell you because this time it was REALLY BAD…” She likes to prepare me for the worst. It’s one of the ways I know she hasn’t really been “dreaming.”

“Can’t scare me, Pea. I’m a product of the 90′s.”

“Okay, well, this time I was standing near our house, which was on fire. And I reached out to touch it. And then everyone else wanted to touch it too. And the fire kept getting bigger and bigger…”

She goes on, telling a very coherent tale, another indication that she hasn’t been dreaming; she’s been thinking. My daughter has a lot of “thoughts” like this. Big, dangerous productions. Being kidnapped. Fires. Losing all of her family or friends. And now that we’re facing the anxiety of preschool ending and Kindergarten beginning, she’s having lots and lots of “dreams.” Read More

by Dumb Mom

I am performing in a live show.

Go ahead and scream, I’ll wait.

I screamed when I found out too.

Because me?  In person, on a stage, speaking in front of other humans without public barfing or passing out cold is unlikely.

Highly unlikely.

I’m still trying to come up with plausible excuses to get out of humiliating myself in front of 50?  100?  Please-God-don’t-let-there-be-a-lot-of-people-there A room full of people.

When I was talked into auditioning for the show, I really didn’t give much thought to the possibility that I would actually be picked so I didn’t bother to come up with a thanks-but-no speech. Read More