Thursday 10 April 2014

Last week, we had the first performance of our short play night at the DukeBox Theatre, Hove. It went pretty damn well - we ended up having to turn away about twenty people who had turned up on the off chance that they could buy a ticket on the door. For those who got in, it was a great night - eight brand new, short plays by new and local writers. I'm already ploughing my way through submissions for the next night, which will be sometime in late June. Actually, not 'some time' - I know the date; it's just that there's a very good chance that we'll make it a two night run rather than just one. 

What's been most pleasing about this process - and I mean this sincerely - is that people are writing for the first time in ages, or, in a couple of cases, the first time, full stop. I think a lot of us have this hankering to write a little something, and many of us - most of us, in fact - never do. Obviously for 99% of people, it's for the reasons (excuses) that annoy all the writers who actually do manage to write - excuses like 'I haven't got the time', or 'I can't come up with good ideas.' I think one of the major reasons, however, why would-be writers don't, is very simple: Nobody Cares. I'll say that again so we're all on the same page. Nobody Cares. 

Seriously, all those half-finished stories and ideas for novels and fillms and radio sitcoms that litter your bottom drawer? Nobody knows about them beyond you wittering on about this great idea you've got, and thus nobody is waiting for them. More importantly, then, nobody needs them. (and by the way, if you've assumed that it's me that has a bottom drawer full of unfinished and unworked ideas, then, well, shush.) 

And if it's true that nobody cares about or wants your great story (and, sorry, it is true), then it follows that a thing like the short play night becomes really important: at it's most base, at it's simplest: it's an excuse to write. And finally, a showcase for your writing. I think, essentially, that's what I've considered most important about this. Not that anyone actually needs an excuse to write (but, actually: people need an excuse to write). 

Last year, I decided pretty early on that I wasn't going to direct anything this season. I've been directing every year for the last three, and it's always meant that I never really got a chance to see anything in the Brighton Fringe, which was something that I wanted to rectify, since I was missing out on a lot of pretty good stuff. So, firm decision: no directing this year. However, that plan didn't go to - uh, well, plan, since I have found myself in a production of The Crucible. 

It's a two week production, which will be the longest run I've been personally involved with (and after being at work all day too - PITY ME), and it's a pretty big part. I'm just about beginning to feel the weight of pressure on me: the production opens in about three and a half weeks, and in many ways I'm still finding my feet. One of the challenges is that I'm playing John Proctor, which, if I'm honest, is not neccesacrily a role I would have thought of myself first for. Historically, I've always thought of Proctor as being somewhat alpha male - all tall and broad shouldered, which, with the best will in the world, is not ever going to be even your third description of me. So, there has to be another way in to the character, which I'm still working my way through. In fact, I had intended to essay how I was approaching the character in this blog, but - as might be expected - time in rehearsals, and learning lines, has robbed that time from me. 

There are other, exciting things planned for later this year (and, somehow, even next year) ... But I'll chat more about that another time ..  

Tuesday 31 December 2013

OK, we're up. 2013 is almost done, and it's a fair bet that you haven't achieved all the things that you intended this time last year. It's not all bad: new stuff will have come out of left field that makes life a bit better - you finally caught up with that boxset on Netflix that everyone else has been wittering on about for years, you found a place that still sells fizzy cola bottles (you know, the decent actually fizzy ones), that kiss was wonderful. The second one was even better. And it all happens again, starting tomorrow. 

And that's terrifying, isn't it? Obviously, 2013 had its good points (no, honestly, it did - look at the feed of pretty much anybody on your facebook right now: apparently there was a really funny meme from Buzzfeed sometime in March), but there were clearly some devastatingly upsetting moments over the last twelves months. Now, in real terms, that isn't going to change in any perceptible sense anytime soon. 2014 will be just as challenging as 2013. But with much less food banks. 

This isn't meant to sound depressing. Well, no more than how I usually sound. But it can be instructive to acknowledge the darkness, and find for yourself where the light may be found. So, the usual thing is to make the change starting with yourself (Ghandi had a very good bumper sticker about exactly that). This, in theory, is what New Year resolutions are all about. Give up this. Start doing that. Stop buying e-cigarettes from Poundland (you don't want to be the focus of the news story when the first e-cig rip-off blows up in someone's face). 

The problem, though, with New Year's is that it's so abritary. It doesn't actually mean anything. Since time itself doesn't actually exist (don't tell Steven Moffat that, however, otherwise that will be the plot of season 8 of Doctor Who, as well as the backstory of Doctor Who back in 1977), we can accept that NYE falling on December 31st is vastly unimportant. We already know that Jesus wasn't even born on his own birthday, and it's worth remembering that nothing changes tonight: the clocks don't go back, and the solstice doesn't kick in. Tomorrow might be another year, but it's also just a Wednesday. The middle of the week. What disillusioned office workers usually refer to as 'hump day.' 

Once you realise this,  it can deliver you free of a great deal of pressure. There is nothing special about tonight. You are not contractually obliged to stay up til the ball drops (even if Miley Cyrus is hanging from it). You don't need to have anyone to kiss at twelve. And there is absolutely no pressure to make a great sea change in your life and attitude starting tomorrow morning. Apart from anything else, there's still a tin of Roses and two decent bottles of wine to be finished off from the holidays, and if you're going to let them go to waste just because you are seeking to improve your life, then you have somewhat elegantly missed the point of what 'improving your life' actually means. 

This is not to say that seeking to improve is not a desirable pursuit. Sure, by all means, give up smoking. Ask that guy out / finally dump him. Eat more fruit. Take up rockclimbing/learning Mandarin/burlesque/a combination of all three. But here's the thing. It doesn't have to happen tomorrow. And indeed, if it gets to, say, April, and you haven't managed to get round to it, that's not a new year resolution that you failed at, because it's not about some arbitrary date in the calender. If you get to April, and there's still something that you need to start striving for, something that gives you energy and passion to push yourself forward, well, that's brilliant. Because, as you might have already worked out, tomorrow won't be the only Wednesday of 2014. There are plenty more hump days to come. 

Happy New Year.