There has been little about actually writing plays on this blog of late. That doesn't mean there hasn't been much going on ...quite the opposite in fact!
Today I sent off what will hopefully be the last major edit on 'Don't Send Flowers' and you know what? I'm damn proud of what it's become. And of the work I've put in on it, and how much it's let me not only grow as a writer but also assert myself as one as well.
A few years back I walked away from a meeting with an artistic director and cried. I felt horrible. Not least because they told me I wasn't 'trying hard enough' because I wasn't 'going to London every weekend to see Fringe theatre' and because my tastes weren't encompassing what they thought was 'good theatre' and I was 'too mainstream' in my taste. Well, guess what? I like mainstream. I love that there are people out there who make abstract theatre. That there are performance artists who stick needles in their skin and make art out of it. I like that there are people who lock people in a shipping container, in the dark for 20 minutes and scare the crap out of them.
I'm not any of those people.
A friend read 'Flowers' and in a discussion about it called me a 'child of 90s sitcoms' and that was frankly the best compliment someone could have given me.
Because you know what I like? I like characters, and story and making people laugh and cry all at once because they care about those characters. I won't apologise for that. I can appreciate the other sort- I love much of it, I admire much of it, some of it admittedly is like slow torture, but we can't all like the same thing can we? life and art would be boring.
If I had that same meeting tomorrow, I'd sit there and hold my ground. I'd tell that Artistic Director, that maybe my work isn't for their theatre. But that doesn't mean my work isn't good. And that I can only make the work I know how to make.
Have I written the greatest play ever to grace the stage? Fuck no. Have I written a fairly decent piece of work, that is interesting, a bit funny, maybe even a bit moving? I think so. (Honestly, I'll go into proper marketing mode when I need to). Am I proud of it? Fuck yes.
And I am. I've loved getting it here. I love these characters. As I write this I've got (one of) the playlists I've used to write to (Yes I'm that extra) playing, and 'You Matter to Me' from Waitress has come on. And that's a great summary of this piece. A song that many people think is 'like totally reducitve and basic' but brings a lot of joy to many others. And in terms of characters, well, they matter to me. Another friend read it and said 'I really like your characters, I want to know about them' and that's one of the greatest compliments too. Because it means they're kinda real (don't worry I know they're not and I 100% have never talked to them out loud). But they're people to me now, people with a story. And that's exciting, and something to be proud of.
Also, it's been FUN. That's something a lot of theatre folks don't like either. There's a feeling to make 'art' you have to be terribly serious all the time. Look lads I've written a play that needs a budget line for cake (no really) how serious can I be? I make myself laugh with it (I possibly need to get out more), I make myself smile. Hopefully, a few people who see it will too.
And I love these characters. I've loved playing with them (not like that. Bit like that sometimes). I've loved sitting with them, learning about them, watching them change and grow. Occasionally wanting to kill them all off. And isn't that when you know you've got something worth hanging on to?
More than that I take joy in the labour of it. I enjoy unraveling a puzzle that is a tricky scene or refining a line just enough to make it click. I love when words just spill out onto the page, and I love editing them to make sense. It's not a thing to be endured, if it is, really, what's the point?
It's taken a team of people to get this far, from the team producing it to my long-suffering friends who have endured coffee after coffee hearing about it (I did buy them cake too) to those who have read it (more than once, who I owe cake to). And I feel really lucky that people believe there's something in it worth reading, worth listening to, worth supporting (either that or they are really easily swayed by cake).
I've sat with the characters of this' for more years than I care to admit. The entire journey is another blog post. I'll leave it with this....(and maybe a hint to one scene that has survived all this time).
I can picture clearly not just the exact bookshop I had the idea for this in, but the exact set of bookshelves. Near the window, on the first floor, overlooking the road. I can also hear the first piece of music that inspired it (ok that's cheating it's on the playlist). Something about this story stuck around and wouldn't give up, no matter how many times I threw it out. So I'm kind of proud to get to this point.
The next bit...well that's the bit where it actually starts to become real.
I might need some more cake (or something stronger) before then.
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