Stage actors create something new every night, an evanescent experience shared only by that audience and those colleagues that will only exist in that time. That is part of the fun in doing a play. Since March, I have been working with River Repertory, playing five characters in two plays with a dozen other actors.

In “The Neverending Story,” a fantasy tale set in the land of Fantastica, I entered an ensemble that had performed the same play for two seasons. Some of the cast members had already grown out of their costumes by the time I joined. Ranging in age from eight to 15, they are already seasoned actors. None of them missed an entrance, as I did in dress rehearsal, missing their pants.

In our first rehearsal on a small stage at The Arts Nest in Lake Huntington, NY, the young actress who played several roles, including the Childlike Empress, corrected my line reading of “Stop!” by bellowing with all the power of an elephant. She wanted to make sure I got the importance of that line.

The director, Chris Peditto, had once played one of the roles I was assigned, Morla the Ancient Turtle. In early rehearsals, he was happy to show me his interpretation of the creature’s movements. The role had once been played by another actor, much revered in local circles for being able to spin on the shell of their costume while flailing their arms and legs in the air. Quite a spectacle, but not one I could muster at my age. I was lucky to be able to get in and out of my costume and makeup in time for the next scene, every night.

Fitting oneself into an ensemble cast that has worked together can be daunting. It takes a healthy amount of self-confidence, with a dose of humility. Sharing a dressing room with a cast of young beauties can wither that confidence if you let it. But that is also where the joy of stage acting lies—in the acceptance and celebration of everyone’s unique talents and abilities. Remembering that each one of you has been chosen for your role by an able director can buoy one even in the face of missed entrances and missing pants.

I have never had trouble inhabiting a character once my lines are down. But now, the lines don’t come so easily, so it takes longer for me to fill out the dimensions of a character. It’s one of the things about stage acting that I love, the feeling of exploring everything about a character, from the way they move to the way they speak. When you can play a role for weeks or months, that experience develops every night. Some things work so well, you keep them for the run. Others, you discard. But in the theater we do in small towns, we only get a few performances before it’s over. That’s what makes a repertory company so valuable to actors. It gives us the ability to develop a role over time.

Another show I was able to fit in between River Rep shows this season was for a Women’s Theatre Project with Caroline Baillie and Teresa Tulipano. On the theme of “Unfinished Business,” a group of 10 women developed work based on their personal experience using techniques of psychodrama and Theatre of the Oppressed, which was developed by Augusto Boal. We met for six two-hour workshops over six weeks and wrote, directed and performed in 10 different scenes, collectively. There were two performances, one in Callicoon at the Depot and one at the Roscoe Collective, an arts space in Roscoe. It was a completely different kind of theatre, but just as compelling in the making.

Off the boards for the summer, I am back to making dinner and doing housework, like any actor who ever lived.