What Have You Done Lately?

Great rehearsal tonight, for Three Kinds Of Me. There's been something of a gear change, and it's to do with moving into a different space. Whereas before, we were rehearsing in a flat, we're now in the building of the theatre itself, and that puts a whole different mentality on the process. It's like we're here to actually work. Rather than, you know, drink tea and eat HobNobs (it's just occurred to me that those biscuits could easily be the punch line to an obscure gag about Quatermass, but since Quatermass itself is reasonably obscure, it's probably left well alone).

Acting, and directing, and certainly writing, are amongst the most labour intensive duties for the least demonstrable booty as an end result. I imagine most artistic endeavours are. I suppose that's why the producers of Hollywood films get such a bad reputation. They just don't get it. They have to make sure nobody's wasting the studio's money, make sure no-one's going off in some weird, unpredictable manner. But that's just the point. Rehearsing, and creating a show, can absolutely be weird and unpredictable. And there's not really a great deal of value in putting the brakes on that. Having said all that, however, I'm glad I don't have a gang if Hollywood producers breathing down my neck*, because I know that the work Sarah and I did tonight was productive, constructive, and effective, but if I was compelled to put into a chart exactly how much ground we've covered, script wise, tonight: it would be a single half page. Perhaps not even that much.

But that's part of the process. Digging a little here, scratching at a bit of paint there, applying a bit of pressure to see what bends, and what simply snaps. It's a genuine pleasure when a rehearsal goes well, it means you're discovering the play again anew with each new re-read. Two lines of dialogue that seem confusing are actually the solution to each other.

Actually, the thing about lines of dialogue is intriguing. As a director on this show, I'm directing the writer, who's appearing in her own show. As such, then, conversations about meaning and nuance surface often. After all, it's not often you, as director, get a chance to speak with the person who created your script. I worry, though, because as director, needing to tell the story, I'll sometimes want to shift a line to the middle of a sequence rather than at the start, or cut a word altogether. Sarah's very accommodating, and takes on all my suggestions with good grace and positivity, but I have to repeatedly reassure myself that I've got my directors head on, not my writers. There are few things more egotistical than a writer-director. I should know; I am one. I suspect I'd make a very poor copy/proof reader: rather than checking what my client had written, I'd probably be trying to change the ending.

Talking of endings, in the end, I recall what Harold Pinter said about directing his own work. Like a lot of stories associated with Pinter, it's possibly made up, but that doesn't necessarily stop it being true. Apparently, Pinter was saying that there was a difference between what he, Pinter (the director) needed to achieve with a script, and what he, Pinter (the playwright) had originally intended. The two don't always match up, or at the very least they don't quite hold hands. The trick is to deliver the truth of the script while not feeling a slave to it.

With that in mind, I should really get back to my own writing. I haven't written anything for two days. Partially it's because I'm back at work, but that's a poor excuse: and if it isn't, then it will end up being an excuse for at least the next seven weeks, and that's bad. I'm hoping to get back on track with a thousand words. A thousand words a day - even between work and rehearsals - isn't a bad average to aim for. On those days that I do manage a thousand, I'm working well enough to produce at least five hundred more. I'm not saying that those 1,500 will necessarily be any good, but at the early stages, that's not really the point. And anyway, those days that I manage to hit above the target should make up for the days that I struggle to produce even 400. Or, judging by yesterday, none whatsoever.

Hopefully not tonight, though. It's a bit too late to reasonably think I'll actually manage a full thousand words, but as we hit midnight, I'll settle for half that in cash.

Wish me luck ..


*I'm afraid I don't know at this time what the collective term for a group of Hollywood producers is. A purse of producers? A sequel? A despondency ?