Saturday 4th October 2014

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. 

Not Long Now

Christmas is going to creep up on me this year. I think it's because it's on a Tuesday. Monday's in the holiday season can just be added to the proceeding weekend, and Wednesdays or Thursdays mean that the entire week has been dismantled and sold off for parts, but with the big day falling on Tuesday, I rather suspect that I'm going to be caught unawares. Even though I'm writing a blog entry about it right now.

I feel a little big groggy, and I suspect that that's all to do with my body holding off the worst of the illnesses and fatigues for the past fifteen weeks, and waiting for a period of time where I'm not constantly dashing from one place to the next, and taking that as a signal that I can just shut down. I'm determined not too, however, and to still make good use of the time that I have off, knowing that it will be over all too soon. I had intended to do some writing, but my main computer has died. I do most of my writing in cafes and suchlike, finding that if I try to write at home, all too often I'll get distracted by the lure of a DVD, a sandwich, a book, or equally often, the chance to doze. So I'll come out to a cafe, and try to write as much as I can that way. I'm not always good at avoiding those cafes in Brighton that have a free wifi connection, but at least I'm making an effort. I'm aware that there are a great many writers who are unable to write unless it's quiet all around them. I'm not one of those writers. I quite enjoy the hustle and bustle and muttering of people around me, music playing that I'm not familiar with (even if the Mad Hatter, where I am now, has a seeming over-fondness for the oeuvre of Gloria Estefan). It's even better on a day like today, when the weather is miserable, and all you have to do is write out a few words, fuelled by decent hot chocolate. I almost remember what being human feels like. If I could get paid to do this every day, then I'd consider myself very lucky.

However, as I said, my computer has died. I forgot to keep it charged, and it has no power on it. It means that I'll have to move on to another cafe very soon, and plug it in there. I would try to plug it in here, but the usual spot has been taken up by something like fairy lights (you see, once again, Christmas leaping out at me unawares). I am running the risk of being one of those people in coffee shops who sets up camp at a table with their laptop and a mocha for a couple of hours at a stretch, writing absolutely nothing of any value whatsoever.

Last night, I was at Brighton's Burning Of The Clocks, which sounds a lot more traditional and paganistic than it actually is, whereas in fact it's only been around for five years. It marks the winter solstice and is mainly a children's festival. Thousands of people (it certainly seemed like thousands last night) gather with paper mâché lanterns which are lit, and finally end up on a huge bonfire on Brighton Beach, followed by an impressive fireworks display. Oddly enough, I was there partly because of research, since there's a sequence in a book that will take place during this event. I can safely talk about this scene on this blog with little fear of somebody else stealing it, because - if I'm honest - I'm reasonably doubtful if this particular book will get started, let alone finished. It's book four in a series of six, and so far I've only had vague ideas about how to put them together. I'm certainly in danger of becoming (or continuing to be) one of those people who talk about their upcoming projects as a way of avoiding actually doing them, but things have started to lock in a different way. The NaNoWriMo book was one point. The book itself might be awful (it actually might be; I haven't dared read it in the past month), but it was a extraordinarily useful tool in learning how to discipline my writing methods. It's a tool that's easily forgotten about if you're not careful, but it's still there for grabs. The other thing, of course, is the sending off short stories for competitions. Now, it remains to be seen if those stories actually get anywhere - the best method once they've been posted is to simply forget about them - but the whole process of completing the stories and sending them off to some kind of destination is incredibly useful - it gives you some kind of closure, rather than having to constantly return to them, or even worse, have what's more - much more - than a half decent idea - and, by not doing all that much about it, allowing it to wither and die.

And therefore, there's another thing worth noting. Aside from the fact that I'm generally quite a morose person, I've been very encouraged by the amount of - well, encouragement - I've received from so many people on my writing and directing and even acting this year. It's these kind of voices in the darkness, particularly after you've had a tough nine hours at the day job - that really give you the strength to carry on writing, to carry on trying, and - most elusively, most magically - give you the strength to occasionally consider the possibility:

"I can do this"

And I Feel Fine

So, the world didn't end today. Not as far as I know, in any case. Maybe it did. To be honest, I haven't had a chance to catch up with any news transmissions all day. It hasn't come up in my twitter feed, anyway.

What did end for me today was work, at least for the rest of the year. Sincere apologies for those of you reading who still have to work, especially as - if indeed you are working over the season - that probably means that you're having to deal with members of the public who are, as we are all painfully aware, almost entirely morons. The public generally don't see those that serve them as any way human. And even when they do, it is in some weird, fragmented way. When I used to work in a pub (OK, a Wetherspooons), a bloke used to greet me on Friday afternoons with the phrase 'I bet you're glad it's the weekend, eh?', hoping that I would be able to share in his recently attained glee at being released from the office shackles. He seemingly was never able to comprehend that Friday afternoon, for me, was like his version of Monday morning. The only difference being that I also had the Monday morning experience on, well, Monday morning as well.

Christmas in Brighton really kicks in tonight, with the Burning Of The Clocks, an annual event which be somewhat elegantly explained by its title. Local kids make paper mâché clocks that they carry through the streets of Brighton, lit from within. It all ends with a bonfire. It's all quite magical and lovely, although I suspect the effect is heightened if you have kids with you (not to throw on the bonfire). I have no idea who else is going to be there, but I'm hoping to brave the cold later and cheer the crowds on.

I've only watched a couple of Christmas themed movies so far: Scrooged, and Elf. I might be saving It's A Wonderful Life for closer to the day itself. Either that, or Gremlins.