Wonderful rehearsal during the
week for The Snow Queen. We introduced a
couple of the songs to the cast, all of whom seemed be on board with it from
the get-go (there was even a bit of foot tapping, which is a pretty good sign).
At the start of this year, I didn’t know that I was going to be writing a play,
much less a Christmas play, much (even more) less one with songs in it. I have
no sense of tune or rhythm, so this was a pretty hubristic move on my part. But
I seem to have managed to write a decent batch of songs with most of my dignity
intact – or at the very least, I’ve managed to surround myself with enough
people who are able to spot the tautological errors in my lyrics and nip them
in the bud before less forgiving eyes see them.
I imagine this is the same for
anyone who writes a song, but there is something very humbling and actually
disconcerting about listening to a group of people sing something that
previously was just a collection of words on a page, wrestled from my
sleep-deprived imagination. Of course, I have previously already had people perform
words that I’ve written, but that’s always been prose, and –as far as I can
remember – always directed by myself. There might have been an occasion that
someone else has directed one of my plays, but if there is, I have managed to
forget it. Whatever way you read that, it doesn’t say a great deal for my
relationship with my own ego.
I guess another reason why I was
so fascinated and discombulated by hearing the songs was that I hadn’t had any
involvement whatsoever with the music. As I’ve indicated, with absolutely no
degree of self-deprecation, but a decent dollop of actually telling the truth,
I don’t have any real musical talent whatsoever. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not
saying that the songs I’ve written are terrible (PLEASE COME TO OUR SHOW), but
I can’t write a single note of music. It’s lucky then that I find myself
working with two fantastic women who have been creating original music for the
songs. They give my songs credit, if that makes any sense.
I suddenly realised (if I hadn’t
already realised it at some other point in time, and then promptly forgotten
it) that I seem to always take on projects that will frankly terrify me. I
don’t say this as some kind of humble brag (well, maybe I do a bit), but more
as a slightly confused observation of wonder. The fact that I’m adapting The
Snow Queen, attempting to do something vaguely unique with it (of which more
another time), and sticking some songs in it is ridiculous, to say the least.
Good ridiculous, I hasten to add, but still. One of the (many) things that was
breaking me out in cold night-sweats was the songs. Since I (and I know I’ve
banged on a lot about this, but there’s a point, honest) have very little
previously measured talent in that department, it was certainly a thing that,
if it all stuttered and coughed up blood, could be well levelled at me as fair
criticism – reaching beyond my natural limitations. But I’m not entirely sure
that there’s anything wrong with that. Why play safe?
We have yet to go through all the
scenes, but once we do, it’s a bit of a rollercoaster. Not that I’m trying to
have a scene with a rollercoaster in it (but now that you mention it ..) I’m
asking for quite a bit in the way of special effects and props (the snow alone
is giving people pause), and we’re very soon going to be starting a crowd
funding campaign (yeah, it had to happen eventually), and there’s an atmosphere
of something very special around the corner.
Frankly, I can’t wait.
