The week has started in manic fashion, which was probably not what was needed considering the weekend I had. Friday's gig in Westcliff-On-Sea with the Lunar Pilots was an enjoyable seaside joint (as much as the sea seemed to confuse my Sat-Nav, making me unprofessionally very late for the soundcheck). The band seems to be progressing well after a difficult first year in business, next stop is the Bull & Gate in London in December, which I'm secretly excited about. Got back from that gig at 2am, and then up at 8am to be in the rehearsal room with my old mucker James Burling for our little duo project, Losers. Quirkiness all the way, but in a good way, the Boy Burling knows how to write a tune or two and I'm looking forward to our little acoustic show this Thursday in Cambridge.
A while ago I agreed to produce a couple evenings for my local theatre group, WriteOn, and I awoke in Sunday to glance at my calender and realise I'm actually producing next week's show, which I was very unprepared for. I've spent every spare second today trying to recruit suitable actors for this weekends performance of exceptional new writing; so far the results have been pretty poor, so I'm not sure how I'm gonna get away with this one...in the meantime I'm still trying to promote our Christmas show which I'm very much looking forward to, although I still need to write a stand-up comedy routine for it, something I keep putting off, which is very bad of me. I also need to gain more confidence as a narrator, I'm rushing my lines far too much - either I'm doing this properly or not at all. I've also agreed to write a pantomime, for the lovely Glass Onion venue in Peterborough. It is set to be performed on the 30th December - well, it will be if I can write it in time. I think I have a spare night next Tuesday...
Creativity is something I've been thinking about a lot really, not that it should be analysed. Went to watch Guillemots play at The Junction on Tuesday; the 6th time I've seen them, the 6th time I've come away feeling utterly inspired. Fyfe Dangerfield (the frontman) is a remarkable character, capable of joyous, exhilarating moments followed by tear jerking agony, he's a one-off, and gigs like that make me realise why I love being alive. But it did make me realise I'm doing too much non-creative stuff. I consider myself to be a writer, but I'm working too hard as a producer at the moment (alongside the already mentioned theatre stuff I am organising 2 charity gigs, one for the 10th December, the other for New Years Eve), I have so many ideas; it's about time I was more selfish and actually allocated more time in my life to them. Just as I was having these thoughts though I received a rejection from the BBC for my radio show, 'Becoming More Like Mandy' which was a little harsh, but happiness/good vibe returned with an email from my publishers in Canada - who are publishing my play 'Bed'. They sent over a proof of the book, and it's looking exceptional, feeling proud today...
Ah yes, and I'm trying to grow a beard. Again. In all the struggles ahead, this is the biggest struggle of them all...
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