When Ideas Come Thick & Fast

I’ve just got back from a week at Edinburgh Fringe, supposedly a holiday, but, invariably the combination of sprinting venue to venue in the driving rain, up flights of steps, shoving teenagers flyering their student production of 4:48 Psychosis out of the way and into the path of oncoming unicyclists advertising their one man Lord Of The Flies show can, on occasion, be a little tiring.

It was a lot of fun, nice to see some familiar faces. It was also the first year that our viewing became much more heavily theatre rather than stand-up. In part it was where we were staying, closer to Summerhall than my traditional hangouts of The Stand. As most of you know I’ve tended to do a theatre show every couple of years to “keep my hand in” the creative side and so, as it’s been 2 years that urge is coming back.

I’ve been writing a play for about 6 months called Opposition which I’ve nearly finished that will scratch that itch, invariably until a huge pile of rejection letters cascades through my letterbox. To sell it slightly – it’s the story of a humble MP who against the odds become leader of the opposition, fighting their cause with honesty and integrity – it’s the story of how people can be broken and how power is concentrated so that the democracy we have is different to the democracy we believe we own. When I started writing it seemed to voyage into the land of fantasy, but gradually over the last 6 months that fantasy has become increasing more real to the extent where, unlike anytime in my life, I think I’ve written something in tune with the zeitgeist. Will it ever be produced? Probably not.

The trip to Edinburgh however was great as it opens your mind to things you could be doing, and it was there that thoughts kept popping in my head. I’d like to share a few of them here – maybe you want to talk to me about one, or be gently encouraging, or simply ask to read the first page.

  • A story cycle called “12 stories about love”. It’s 12 short 5 minute stories about love, all which link. Accompanied by a double bass and acoustic guitar, improvising a soundtrack to it.
  • Stand up with a keyboard playing silly songs.
  • A projection show about self, about who we are, perceptions of who we are and how we discover our faults. So about love then. And excel. And possibly about death and what we want to do before we die.

I’ve not really written about why I moved away from wanting to create work in the last 2 years. It was, in truth, a couple of reasons. Firstly it felt like opportunity wasn’t there – producing Gaffer on a shoestring was a lot of fun. It was the intention to do the Liverpool run and then, after a short break, tour the show. We had strong indications that it might be able to tour to Sweden and it felt amazing. Then the rights were pulled by the writer and that was that. There was no follow up, a change in artistic leadership shortly after and the trust you’ve earned as a creative to do that sort of project is gone, helped on its way my my own lack of fight I suspect.

I think I’ve always imagined that I’ve got a thick skin and can endure disappointment well, what I now realise is that creatively, whether it’s standup, theatre or storytelling, I also don’t believe that I belong there. This sounds like an incredibly negative post, but I think it’s about self identification and the bravery to say what you are when it’s not what you do.

A good friend of mine once, rather astutely pointed out that the difference between a normal person and a consultant is that the latter says they’re a consultant and the former believes it. This same person also, astutely (they were having a very astute day), noted that the difference between them and us is they do not say. Admittedly we were watching the football at the time, but still, the point stands. Artists describe themselves as artists and do. They don’t say they’re writing a book, they’re doing.

As I get older I wonder where I shall end up, why/how/should we make that jump to something that’s not where we’re at, should it be done with a safety net or without. I wonder about happiness and what it even is – it’s not like the movies nor is it a constant, but how do we know when we’ve peaked, or should we never believe that? Maybe happiness is raising your average contentment to a point where you’re indifferent and unwilling to break the status quo? I wonder where I am on that scale, and whether being on a scale is good or bad. All the questions life doesn’t prepare you to answer.

Or maybe I just need a holiday on a beach somewhere.

Night x