Miss Nancy Sun on opening night of "An Infinite Ache."
Don’t let the curtsey fool you.
She left her soul on the stage.
I can’t say much about the play — it’s an incredibly raw and nimble tale that rewards a ‘clean slate,’ so to speak — so how ‘bout I talk about Nancy instead, while you go buy tickets (I’ll wait).
Nancy and I met the old-fashioned way: through Tumblr. She had recently left a lucrative finance career to pursue writing and acting (not to mention long surfing vacations — residencies may be a better word — in the Costa Rican jungle). I remember reading about her plans on her blog and, I’ll admit, feeling skeptical (I mean, isn’t skeptical the default Tumblr-reading mode?). But then we had dinner at Prune (I had a whole branzino and, of course, the picture to prove it) and we clicked in this wonderful Sept. 24th/Sept. 25th Libra-Virgo cusp kind of way.
In the years since then she’s folded seamlessly into our friend group — in fact, there were three of us Tulane girls (plus our fellas) sitting front row last night, which rocks my world ‘cause there’s nothing I love more than my friends becoming friends — and … here’s the moment where my heart wells up with pride …she has worked her motherfucking ass off to do what she set out to do. Create art. (She’s even written a short story based very loosely on me and M.!!)
So, “An Infinite Ache.” She read the script. She knew it had to come to New York (it’s never been performed here before, amazingly). She knew she was the one to do it (and now that I’ve seen it I understand why — holy hell, what a part). And with nothing more than her intelligence, artistry, charm, and hard work, she did just that.
I am going to hold that thought in my mind the next time I sit down to write and stop after three sentences ‘cause I suddenly think I hate my own words.
I am going to hold that thought in my mind real tight.
So thank you for that, Nancy. Thank you for a million other things — watching our pets and holding down the fort during Sandy and taking me to that blow-out dinner at Bond Street and and and — but more than anything else, thank you for that.