When I was a teenager I often thought of becoming an actor. I wanted to be a theater actor, not so much a screen actor. Several theater schools rejected me, and after a few less pleasant experiences in the world of acting, I gave up on this dream. So I started working as a clerk at a small advertising agency.

Then last fall, a woman called me. She had twice directed plays I had written. She didn’t want me to write a play for her—she wanted me to act in a play by Thomas Bernhard. She was going to direct the performance in the southern part of the Netherlands. The play was called Am Ziel, which is not easy to translate from the German. A rough attempt would be The Destination. It’s about a mother and daughter who invite a young playwright to their summer house in a Dutch seaside resort. As is often the case in Bernhard’s world, the mother and daughter are engaged in a sadomasochistic drama, albeit one that is more psychological than physical. It’s quite clear that the writer in the story will be used as a toy by the mother or the daughter, or by both of them.

Bernard counts as a “writer’s writer.” Although I do like some of his work, I would not describe myself as his biggest fan. There is something awkward about an author who is cheered by the very bourgeoisie that he pummels over and over. This is not to say that I’m blind to Bernhard’s humor and dramatic qualities.

The main reason I said yes to the request was that it would give me the opportunity to describe the theater world from within. Since 2007, every summer I’ve set myself the task of taking a job and writing about the experience. I’ve worked as a chambermaid in Germany, as a masseur in Romania and as a steward in a Swiss train.

But I had not counted on the fact that as an actor you are not watching people. People are watching you.

Some journalists wanted to know whether I believed that I was good at acting.

That was not the point. I saw the irony that I was a writer who played a writer who is destroyed by the women who claim to admire him. If there is ever an opportunity to make of fun yourself, you should not let this opportunity pass.

The most pleasant surprise was the rehearsal process. It’s a cliché that a group of actors becomes a family during the rehearsals, but a sense of intimacy was undeniable. And strangely enough, this intimacy reminded me of the times when I was embedded with army units in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The reviews were rather good. Some of the reviewers even liked my acting.

But I won’t fool myself: if I ever act again, they’ll slaughter me.