'Move On' or Project Hell Book

Why is it so hard? you know all this, you write stuff all the time, you've written a whole PhD on it...why is it taking you so long? what do you mean you can't write it?

Multiply all that by 10 and you have the internal monologue around my book. Actually what the internal monologue goes like it lying down at night and being gripped in the chest by a paralyzing sense of fear and dread around it. Or sitting down to do some work on it, that you've felt so guilty about for so long, and being so scared, so overwhelmed you can't lift a finger to do a thing. And so at bedtime again, that's how you feel. And so on and so forth.

And sometimes its also the relentlessness of life that gets in the way. Writing takes work. Writing also takes time. There's some writing that can be done in short grasped bursts of an hour or less. That can be picked up and left off fairly easily. There's other writing that needs the dip in for a moment, tinker about with it, walk away and come back. Like moving pieces of a frustrating jigsaw. There's writing that can be dashed off in an hour (never have I ever written a theatre review like that *drinks*) or late at night, or early in the morning, or on a lunch break (drinks again).

But other writing there is no answer for but time. To give time and space to write it. Day after day and be absorbed in it. And there's no easy way to that sometimes.


And this is a book. A huge hill of a book, about a huge hill of a play. A complex downright son-of-an-Angel of a play that I'm frequently convinced not even the playwright fully understands. It's just a LOT.

And the honest truth is I think I'm not good enough. That as a failed academic my book will fail as well. That it won't pass the peer review, which is a very real and honest fear not one of hyperbole. I don't have access to academic resources. I don't have and never have had the ability to write academically.

But I had to go with an academic press, because that's the only place that would have me. I'm not connected enough to get another publisher interested. So academic it was for the person who never ever wanted to write an academic book. I wanted to write a book that everyone can read and understand. I still intend to write something like that.

People keep telling me to self-publish. But that feels like another failure to clock up.

And either way I haven't even been able to write it. Barely a word despite having so much to say.

And that's in part because it also takes time. And sometimes life is a LOT as well. I was able to start this whole thing because I found myself unemployed. But the problem of that is I've been without a 'proper' job for around 18 months now. And it, in all honesty, is a blessing and a curse. A blessing yes in that it's allowed me to indulge in much of this, and other projects. A curse, because income and employment have remained a constant battle, a constant worry.

And while many wonderful things have come my way- and continue to- because I stepped off the full-time long term job treadmill (involuntarily at the time). But the 'hustle' of finding new opportunities, while bearing fruits of opportunities, and while that is brilliant...is time-consuming. Short term projects with short term deadlines keep taking over from the long term project book. And it's always the first to be pushed and the last to be picked up again. And the longer that happens, the harder it is to get going again.

And don't think I don't see and feel the judgments. The 'she hasn't got a real job' the 'what's wrong with her that she can't get a job' And the idea of what I 'should be' by now. That I should have a 'real' job, that I should be doing better. That I should be better. That I shouldn't be 'slacking' and should 'get on with getting a job'.

But I reconsidered this while having coffee with a fellow PhD survivor this week. Like me, they are in a bit of a 'time out' moment. Somewhere between the old and the new. And actually, the idea that we all need to pause, recover and take stock before moving on to the next is an important one. I barrelled on through from PGCE, to PhD (full time, working jobs to support it) to two years of full-time jobs while still trying to be an academic. And if two years of part-time work, and trying to make other stuff work is what it takes to move onto the next, then that's what it's going to be.

Because also the book is tied up in all that. The damage that was done by the PhD, by putting your all into a thing, and into a system that spits you out at the other end. And leaves you with nothing.

In its own way, this time out to write the book- and do the other things- is my time to heal from that. It might sound self-indulgent from the outside, but I know there are those who have experienced it who will understand, what exactly that system does to you. I wish I'd taken time out sooner for my mental health.

But the book too is I think part of that healing from academia. It's both a thing I have to do and a bridge to the next stages. And for me Angels as a play was and is symbolic of the transition between old and new. Had that revival not happened, had I not got the help I'd gotten from that production, I'd have walked away from both academia and theatre at that moment. Instead, I'm clinging onto both- not unlike the Angels in the play- in some nowhere land in between.

And so to labour a metaphor, the book is in me, like it's in Prior in the play. And I need to find a way to get it out of me and return it to wherever the fuck it came from.

It's such a complicated thing. Maybe for others, it isn't. Maybe for others it's a simple write it or don't I don't know.

When I sat down to write this for some reason 'Move On' from Sunday in the Park with George popped into my head. And the lesson from that song seems apt.

'Anything you do let it come from you, then it will be true'

I think of that often in writing fiction. But it applies equally to this kind of work. I might not write the greatest analysis of this play ever to be committed to paper. But I will write one with heart and truth of its own. I'm not writing it to prove anyone else wrong. Or to prove I'm the best at anything. I'm writing it because I have things to say.

That song isn't so much about leaving something behind, but moving forward wherever it takes you. And that there's nowhere to go but forward. Much like Kushner's 'The World Only Spins Foreward'

So what now?

Well for the first time in a long time on Friday, I didn't go to be gripped by panic. I did some work. I printed out 2/3 of what I've written. And I read it. And I made notes.

Then today I made some more notes. Some post-its. And something resembling a plan.

More importantly, I made the decision not only to 'finish' it in whatever form that might take. But also gave myself permission to. I let myself take the pressure off to 'fix' everything and 'get a proper job' and instead realise that I took this time to write this thing (and yes other things) and not finishing is more failure than not getting a 'proper' job again in any arbitrary timescale. In the scheme of things, a few more months getting by and finishing the work won't hurt. And the truth is maybe I'm not ready to go back to full time 'big' jobs yet either. Maybe I've got a bit more putting myself back together to do, and maybe the book is part of that.

Alongside it, I started a 'secret' creative side project. One that's nothing to do with anything I'm striving for career-wise. It's not for anyone else, it's not for anything currently. It's just creative writing. And doing that as my 'side project' is also fuelling me again. Getting me excited to do something again.

Meanwhile the book I'm giving time to again. Which is all I can do really. And take on Sondheim's wisdom once again

'Look at what you want, not at where you are'

And

'If you can know where you're going, you've gone, just keep moving on'

Auditions...and a bit of kindness

We have a cast for my play! that's a weird sentence to say! it feels like a long time coming (not just in terms of getting this play where it needs to be, but just in life). And it honestly was an utter joy to get there.

You can see this utter dream team here:

We’re pumped to announce the cast for of the final show of our #Fifth season:@EmiGarside’s Don’t Send Flowers. @James_Scan1985 - John@ffion_king - Grace @curlytom92 - Louis

Our audition process was wondrous so thanks to everyone who came along! #DSF #theatre #cardiff pic.twitter.com/Rq6hOrcZMf

— ClockTowerTheatreCo. (@clocktower_tc) April 19, 2019

Over two sets of auditions I sat quietly in a corner (well not that quietly I've got a laugh like a banshee and some of these guys were very, very funny) and watched a group of actors read lines from my work.

That's crazy, an actual room full of actors rocked up not once but twice to read lines from something I wrote.

That aside there's nothing like hearing the same scenes from your own work 20 times that can either bring home how awful the work is or how it's kinda alright really. And turns out it's kinda alright really. I also got to see so many takes on what I thought I knew. Which is a delight? I got to see so many 'versions' of my characters, which is also a delight. (People ask do I have a fixed idea, and no I never do, so for me, auditions were a RIDE in 'oh him, oh no her oh wow they all have something').

There were so many moments that as a writer were brilliant. I couldn't if I wanted to single out individuals as everyone in that room brought something. Even in an audition space, there were so many moments of 'magic' when you took a breath and went 'oh that's it'. And the decisions were hard in the best way- being spoiled by talent.

For me as a writer my standout moment was arriving late at the callbacks and sitting outside the room on the floor listening to the auditions, listening to people saying my words. I still have no idea which actors I was overhearing, but I sat on the floor and grinned like a loon.

And yes we got the cast we needed, and that's why we were there but for me, that wasn't the greatest thing to come out of those two days. Instead for me, it was more a reminder of this is why we do it, and this is what it can be....

I think the greatest thing to come out of the auditions (other than the obvious aim of finding an amazing cast) was the sense of enjoyment. The greatest compliment that anyone who attended gave was not about the writing (obviously as a needy writer I enjoy that) but that they enjoyed it. So many people who attended those auditions commented on how much they enjoyed it, how much fun they had, how not scary it was, how nice the team was. And that means more than anything else.

In an industry where some people almost pride themselves on how much of a dick they can be. In an industry that wears it's 'well it's a tough business' with pride, a little kindness, a little niceness goes a long way.

And out of this process with Clock Tower so far I've got a real sense of working with- and finding a whole lot more- decent human beings who I'm proud to work with, to call friends. And to hopefully out of meeting such talented people through these auditions, have found future talented people to work with and call friends. And remembered it's possible to do all that with kindness, collaboration and a bloody sense of humour, in an industry that's felt increasingly harsh and humourless in recent months.

In a few months where it seems to be the most 'artistic' being the most 'provocative' seems to have been the only aim of our industry, and where personally I've felt like giving up because I've had enough of being treated so badly...this meant a lot.

In the month running up to these auditions, I had to block a 'well known' playwright on twitter, because he didn't like my review of another company's work. And came at me, personally in my DMs. That's not ok. I've had an artistic director of a theatre company come at me on twitter, because they pre-empted a review, and disagreed with my wider opinions on theatre. That is not ok. More importantly, I've felt it was not ok to speak about this- and the fact that many companies and individuals close their doors to people, not in their 'cool club' who don't fit a certain image of what theatre folk look or behave like. But I was afraid to say that because I felt the doors would be further slammed.

What those auditions showed, what working with Clock Tower shows me, is there's a theatre world beyond the ones who shout loudest in my locality. There are brilliantly creative people making brilliant work, and they aren't punching down at others to do it. They aren't slamming doors they're opening them. None of the discussions in auditions were around people not being 'good enough' they were all about 'oh but wouldn't this person be great for....' and thinking up 10 other productions where the talented people in the room could make something great. THAT is the attitude we should be having.

And so back to the play. What does it feel like to have it cast? honestly a relief! It's a relief that it's now properly out of my hands and into other people's, that my work is for the most part done (unless of course they read it and realise there is a gaping plot hole somewhere). And of course excitement. Excitment it's really happening, that something I dreamed up in my crazy head is real.

It's also, despite it being nerve-wracking still, reassuring. That a room full of people didn't take one look at it and go 'nah you're all right I don't want to be in that piece of shite'  There's something really important and reassuring about putting it out beyond your bubble in a 'safe' and reassuring way first, and the group of actors who auditioned were certainly that. Again in terms of being supportive, and positive and while they were the ones being auditioned I got a real sense from lots of them they understood that this was someone's work rather than just some lines on a page. And it weirdly for once all made me feel like I am part of this community, that I do have a right to space at that table, and that there are many many great people also there to work with.

The next stage is so exciting, to hand this over to these brilliant people, with the brilliant directing team and see what they make of it! And of course how much cake they eat on the way....

Academic Anniversaries, Academic Failings, and letting go

Today marks 4 years since I got the corrections approved for my PhD. That kinda sorta but not quite end. And that feels fitting for the feeling of the kinda sorta not quite end of academic life. And how long it takes to extract yourself.

Anniversaries are complicated. Especially in the long process of saying goodbye to academic life. Those corrections were without a doubt the worst part of an already horrendous PhD. I was called a liar by my external examiner. The person I paid to do my proofreading (because my University made me provide 'receipts' to 'prove' a professional had done it) said I didn't deserve a PhD. The whole thing amounted to some nasty Academic discrimination once the External found out I was dyslexic. And of all the bullshit in my PhD that actually hurts the most. Is it any wonder I haven't declared it on job applications?

All that aside, that day, that anniversary is a reminder of much. Of the fact that I have to face facts that an academic career is never going to be for me. A person on twitter earlier was talking about their own leaving academia. They have 3 books published, countless articles, and have been employed since their PhD (albeit precariously obviously, to be entertaining walking away). And if that person can't even get interviews for academic jobs, someone like me certainly can't.

Recently I drove back from what will likely be my last academic event. The last I was helping organise, and save for perhaps the odd event in the distant future, the last I plan on attending. Because I'm sick of peering in a window of a world I can never be part of. Because I have better things to put my time and energy into, and because there comes a point you're just done.

And that's where I am four years out, just done. I'm not sad or angry really any more, I'm just done. I've done my crying over academia. I've done my crying over my own failings. Sure I'm hurt and damaged by it. I have grieved for it. But there comes a point when you're just done.

And here's the secret: academia, academics don't like that.

Everyone wants you to hang on until you're so broken you can't carry on. It and they want you to have the 'receipts' that you tried every single avenue until you were so beaten down that you couldn't do it any more.

And once was enough. I battled through my PhD, I won that battle. That'll do pig that'll do.

I drove home from that conference via the road I took countless times driving from my Undergrad to home. And it felt like a symbolic moment. By all rights, I probably shouldn't even have got through my Undergrad. First, to do any kind of Higher Education in my family, my father died halfway through doing it, I found out I was dyslexic in my final year...and somehow I got to the end and got that mythical 2:1. I mean that was something. And to go on and do the rest, well to quote my favourite character in my PhD play 'that was fucking miraculous'

So it's ok to walk away sometimes with more than you or anyone else thought you'd ever achieve.

When asked do I regret it I say a cautious no. Because as much as I think career-wise, and sanity-wise I would be 'better off' I also wouldn't trade the experiences the PhD gave me, the things it may lead to, and most importantly the things I learned (both written in the thesis and not). As with everything PhD related it's complicated. But I know now if I'd walked away without finishing I would have regretted it. And I'm proud of myself, and the end result.

Anniversaries are funny things. On one hand, I'm glad to be free. I can celebrate the thing I did and also say that I'm free. Free of chasing the impossible dream (sing along at home). Free of the toxic environment, free of never feeling good enough by virtue of my profession (I can manage that quite well on my own thanks). Free to find other brilliant things to do with my life. And to realise before it's too late, that it was the right thing to do to walk away. Even if walking away takes time.

But equally, there's a sense of mourning, of the grief of a kind. For the life you put so much into, sacrficed so much of your life for- am still reeling from the impact of- I lost most of my 20s to my PhD. I lost friends, sacrificed that period you're supposed to have ill-advised relationships in, for an ill-advised toxic relationship with academia. And like a bad relationship it left me damaged, and angry.

It's taken four years to heal some of the worst of that. And honestly, I'm still more than a little messed up. I still have little confidence in my own work, in myself. And I still consider myself not good enough. I'm struggling to write the book that I should know I can write, because my supervisors, and academia, in general, made me feel so very much that I'm not good enough.

Not helped by four years of knockbacks. Of the rest of the world refusing to give you a chance because 'you're an academic' but dealing with the fallout of failing to do the one thing, you wanted to be. That stuff is hard, it takes time.

And it's hard, still fighting so hard for so little. When for others it just happens. I've tried kicking down so many doors for a scrap of teaching and got nothing, while others get it easily. I've tried for four years to get another 'proper' job and failed, others get it mere minutes after graduating. And it's not fair, and neither is life. But it doesn't mean I can't be angry, be hurt. It also doesn't mean I'm trying any less hard than those who 'make it'. But at least away from academia, I'm trying at new possibilities, and there's hope in that. And as Tony Kushner once said 'there is an ethical obligation to hope'

It doesn't make it any less sad to have failed at something you dreamed of, even though you know it's the right decision to chase other dreams now. But there comes a point where you just pick yourself up and say 'not anymore, you don't get to control this anymore'

There's a line in The X Files (of course there is) when Mulder tells Scully she should walk away from what they do. He says 'There's so much more you have to do with your life' and as much as Scully doesn't take that advice (of course), for once Mulder was right.

I'm not quite done mourning the loss of my academic self. Maybe there'll always be a bit of an academic in me. But on this anniversary, I strongly feel like there's a lot more to do with my life, and a lot more to hope for than the life I never led (again sing along at home).

That said, four years ago I said I was going to have a bonfire of my PhD....I still haven't done it. So if anyone fancies a sacrificial bonfire with me, for PhDs, bad relationships...anything else...there's another Bank Holiday soon...