Okay, this could be a long one. I'm exhausted, but I said to myself earlier I'd write up Brighton whilst it was still clear in my head, so here goes.
The Brighton Fringe itself was actually fine, it bounced along nicely with very little incident, and often with these things 'little incident' is a decent target, sometimes all we want to do is do the show, take the applause, and ignore the reviews. I think a lot of the stress was taken away from me this year, thankfully, because Gytha extended her duties beyond being an excellent director but she also helped out a great deal with the producing side of things, which meant all things like accommodation for the cast (which I cock up every year) were in her hands, and a result we didn't end up camping in a field like we did with the Buxton Fringe a couple years ago. That was fun! Also, another helping factor was my friend Steve driving me (and our soundman, Alan) there, I know he was going to the show anyway, and I know he only did it because he doesn't trust my ability to get us there in one piece, but it was still very nice to be driven so I could learn my words en route. The venue was, as always, The Ambassador Hotel, which is run by the always friendly Nick Head who genuinely understands what fringe theatre is about - top chap, who makes putting on a show very easy. Well it would be easy if I wasn't in it - I always said that at some point I'd get 'found out' and people will realise I'm not actually an actor, just a slightly rubber-faced awkward bloke who has remembered a few lines. I felt like I was 'found out' in the first performance - well aware that the press were there, I stumbled and thumbled my way through it in a way that any professional, or really good amateur actor, would be ashamed. It was a nerves thing, and also a Red Bull thing - I could feel my whole face exploding as the blood went to my head when I sat down on stage, and wasn't sure if I would get through that first show without collapsing. I've quit Red Bull by the way, I was drinking far too much of the stuff...after a bit of flyering and a cheeky cheeseburger to discuss what exactly didn't work with the first performance, we were back on again for an 8pm showing. That's what I love about the Brighton Fringe - we can get away with doing 2 shows a day, and naturally we were flying in the second one, in front of a good audience too, so went and got very drunk feeling happy with ourselves. The post-show drinking was fun but I can't remember much of the end, apart from the fact that I seemed to get annoyed that Heather (Yeadon, actress) hadn't heard of The Fall And Rise Of Reginald Perrin, so I went on a bit of a tangent about it (the attached picture is of me explaining the storyline for the series in epic detail at some early hour in the morning in a bar, with another one of our team - Cara also being dragged in to my rambling). Back in Worthing at our hotel, after a frankly terrible breakfast (could have been the hangover, not the food), a few of us did the whole tourist thing - which is go on the pier, feel cold, take photographs and pretend we're having the time of our lives just so we can put them on Facebook, and then let Alan-the-soundman win at Crazy Golf. Performance 3 was notable for being pretty good in terms of line-learning but also for having our biggest audience of the weekend yet none of them laughed at anything at all apart from the friendly guy at the back who seemed to be making up for the rest of the room by finding everything hilarious. More flyering, including running out of flyers so we gave out posters instead, later, and then the final ever performance of Cat Food. A mere 8 people in the audience, 2 of them press, and a nice ending to the show because even that small crowd made us feel like we were doing it right - it was by far the best performance of the show I think. I left the stage relieved - I'm no actor, and I never would have willingly accepted the leading role, but I had to, and 9 performances later I'm sad that all that hard work has lead to a moderately attended show, but relieved it never totally died. An experience, a frantically enjoyable one, but one which I don't intend to repeat for a good while. As for the rest of the cast - well, Cara, Heather, Hind, Carl and Stephen - as Gytha said, there "wasn't one diva amongst them" and I totally agree, lovely people, who worked very hard to put my silly little scripts about a cat on stage and made it look like a play, I'm very grateful to them all.
But now - what next? Well, the Cambridge Comedy Festival is looming, and me and Alan are currently working on the script for that, that'll be for July 11th, and it's a sketch show called 'The Hedgehog Collective'. But apart from that, and my radio sitcom which is to be recorded next month, I'm almost verging on boredom. Of course, there's opportunities, loads of them, to write new plays, and then put them on, and I just repeat the cycle again of workshopping them, putting them on at CB2, sending them to theatre companies, having a little luck every now and then, occasionally getting spotted by the right person, perhaps have my hopes built a little, often it's justified, sometimes not. I'm not sure though - I've gone flat, I need new opportunities, as both a writer and a musician (only 2 of my many projects are actually gig ready at the moment and they're not active due to a wedding, and a pianist in Mexico). This all sounds negative I know - but next Monday I turn 29, and it's got me thinking a bit, and not always in a good way. Career-wise I'm not really striving, it's a nice little job that helps me scrape my rent and have a social life, but I've always been reliant on the thought that I would be successful at something outside of the 9-5 workplace. In theory I have (played some nice venues, recorded in some nice studios, been published internationally etc), but I don't really have a plan b, which is a shame because I could have done with one. There's no time limit or anything, but I am a little worried of that turning 30 malarkey - which is now only 12 months away, I would have just liked to have gotten further by now. I imagine everyone wants that, but not everyone blogs about it. Maybe living in Cambridge isn't helping me progress? My girlfriend, Juliette, is London-bound, maybe I should be too? When I first started this blog I gave myself a year to achieve some pretty unachievable things, although at the time they seemed reasonable enough. It's time to focus again - by the age of 30 (which is 12 months and 7 days away) I will be making a living out of either being a playwright, or being a drummer. There, I've said it. I might have to get back on the Red Bull first though.
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