'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...

'What do you get for it?' on Single-Person judgement.

Six years ago I was freezing my arse off and being called fat by another Bridesmaid (damn that bitch hated me) for a close friend's wedding. I mean obviously, a close friend as I was Bridesmaid.

2.5 years ago, while I was on an overnight flight no less (and so saw when I landed) I got dumped by said friend. Out of the blue. The reason?

'Sorry it's just you haven't got a husband and I can't really talk to you about things...'

I wrote a tweet about it which got some attention so I thought I'd write some long form thoughts linked to my favourite musical theatre subject Company.

Six years ago today I was Bridesmaid for someone I (obviously) considered a close friend. 2.5 years ago, she told me we could no longer be friends because, and I quote “you don’t have a husband so I can’t talk to you about my life”

— Dr Emily Garside (@EmiGarside) March 16, 2019

There was slightly more to it, chiefly in a rota of people who came two by two there wasn't room for a Bridget Jones in their smug married dinner parties, and it was frankly too much effort to sustain an independent friendship it seemed.

Now let's unpack the above statement first. No, I might not have a husband. Yes, my Queer-Feminist-Liberal outlook might not be, shall we say 'traditional' but I have encountered...men...and relationships...and other humans. I was even, dare I say, friends with people's husbands/boyfriends etc etc. Even so, if you don't want to talk about your relationship with me, fine. I have plenty of friends with whom I know next to nothing about their other halves because our relationship and their identity isn't in fact defined by a ring on their finger (or who they shag).

Obviously, this is a particular dick move by this person. But it made me think of the larger ramifications of being single at a certain age. Not least because after writing that tweet I walked the dog and ran into my old 'Brown Owl' who asked if I had kids yet, and was suitably aghast that I still lived at home (sorry Brown Owl but we're all broke as shit...)

But it's also the reason Company spoke to me so profoundly this year. My initial reflection on that can be found here and here. But I happened to revisit it a few weeks ago. And I watched it with tears streaming down my cheeks because I felt once again so SEEN by it. That some of us are more complex in our affairs of the heart than that.

A friend of mine used the phrase 'reserved in affairs of the heart' about me before Christmas and that is probably the most accurate description.

Like Bobbie 'I'm not avoiding marriage' but like Bobbie I'm also not actively seeking it.

People tend to forget that life isn't so cleanly structured for all of us. Especially, yes, the dreaded 'Millennial' generation.  There was no 'leave school, Uni, job, settle down' for me. There's just been this messy path that's led everywhere and nowhere. And I'm ok with that. I'm dare I say happy with that. I look back and go 'well if I'd settled down at 24, where would I be?' and that's not the wrong choice, it's not the bad choice it's just a different one, and I'm really happy with where this one took me. Except when I endure the judgment for it...

And also to play the PhD card here, I lost five years between my mid-twenties and turning 30 to that. Years when traditionally yes, I should be dating, should maybe have found the person to settle down with. Instead, I was in a bubble of books and living in my head. Still, do some might argue. The point being I skipped right from the early 20s dating time, to mid-30s without the bit in between. So suddenly everyone around me is married with babies and I still feel like I'm in the baby-steps, is it all too soon mentality about dating.

But more than blaming the PhD, I'm just wired differently. Again there's the theme in Company that Bobbie doesn't want to 'give up' her life. And damn right I don't. Because much like in watching Company, it looks from the outside like every person in a couple wants you to become one person. And I don't want to give up my life for anyone, my independence, my identity. I couldn't be with someone who expected my every waking minute. And logically I know the right person wouldn't ....but that fear is always there.

There's also an expectation of dating in your 30s that everything has to be on 'fast forward' because we should all be in the place of 'are we getting married/settling down' and that equally terrifies me. Why? why are we rushing from a to be so fast. Can we not slow the fuck down and actually establish if we want to spend time with this person? I mean basically, I'm saying that I date (in my head, because no actual dating is happening) at the pace of a confused snail. And anything else has me going 'whooaa now hold your horses' (way to mix an animal metaphor)

But equally, people (and by people I, unfortunately, mean women) are highly suspicious of a woman who does not spend most of her time pursuing relationships. I've lied countless times to women about being on dating apps (I'm not) and about how many relationships I've had. It's just easier to make everyone believe you're constantly hunting for a partner than admit the truth: for whatever reason you're not.

Let's think about that- women are suspicious, they judge me for not acting enough like I need a partner.

Oh and all this is before we throw in the whole bisexual thing. The whole 'pick a team' thing or the whole 'slutty' thing (honestly no judgment but it's laughable anyone could consider me slutty).

Meanwhile, I'm just...busy. Honestly, I'm looking at my diary this coming week and weeping from exhaustion already. But I love it. I lead a really full life. I work exceptionally hard right now (you know trying to write a book, 2 plays and god only knows what else). And it's not that someone else doesn't fit into that, but it takes a very particular kind of someone to understand that. To understand that no they won't always come first. That no, they won't always see me all the time. That yes, my work is often the most important thing.

And I can hear (women) saying 'but you have to make room for someone' 'You're work won't love you when you're old' ...I will make room, for the right person, at the right time. But I'm not sacrificing the rest of my life for that. Or for the myth of that.

I'm not a robot. Of course, the thought of someone crosses my mind. I get romantic, I get (yes) horny. I'm a person, I get lonely, I think 'what if...' Going back to Company, Bobbie sings 'Did I know him? Have I waited too long? well maybe so has he' and of course there's that sometimes nagging feeling of 'oh have I missed a chance' but honestly, no. Because there's likely someone out there who has waited this long as well. Someone who is the right fit, not the result of endless swiping and meaningless dates that could have been evenings with friends. And it's the push-pull of that song 'Someone is Waiting' the idea of 'hurry-wait for me' being caught between 'I want and I'm not ready' and that's kind of ok.

Company was exactly what I needed this year. That reminder that it is difficult. As Marianne Elliott herself said to me 'For women it's always a massive choice' because a relationship changes things, impacts things, brings up questions. Who am I? Where am I going? will this change my career? my friends? in a way it doesn't for men. Of course in expressing that about the production I got called a sex addict (and yes, she knows about that and who too...) which goes to show...well how we judge women right?

So my ex-friend might be remembering today that Bridesmaid she cut out of her life for not being married. She might pity her, she might call her names, judge her. But that's ok.

And as for me, 'Marriages and all that' if 90s romantic comedies taught me nothing, it's that it happens either when you're least expecting it, or comes from something that was there all along...even if it takes a decade. And not to trust Hugh Grant because ultimately he'll end up trying to steal Paddington Bear.

Project Book: is it time to give up?

It's a Monday and for once I have time aside to do work on the book.

That is if I ignore, looking for a job, looking for freelance work, doing work on one of the creative projects I'm involved in and about 100 other things.

That's one problem.

The other is the utterly paralysing fear, the kind that seizes my chest and genuinely makes it difficult to breathe. It's the same feeling I get night after night when I realise another day has gone by and I haven't worked on it. Or worked on it enough.

And then there are the days I spend looking at it, trying to plan it, trying to make sense of it. And getting nowhere. Nothing has moved in months, not really. And I genuinely wonder if it's time to give up.

For many reasons. First being, I've wasted enough time. Enough time saying I'm working part-time to do the book, that I'm waiting for the book to be done. Yes, I've struggled with first unemployment then horrendous temp work, then looking for a job, then starting it...juggling other ways to pay the bills. I feel like I'm making excuses even though I know I'm not. That stuff is hard, the insecurity is hard, the worry is hard and the juggling shifts and trying to write it hard.

It's also that, during that time many an interesting project large and small has come my way, and it's very difficult to say no to those. Indeed it would be foolish to say no to most of them. I already struggle to get a look in with the theatre world- they dismiss me as an academic, not one of them. So when they offer, I can't say no.

I couldn't say no to a company putting on my play, the re-working of which has been so important and valuable but also has eaten a lot of my time. I couldn't say no to a commissioned piece which the first draft of which ate up a good chunk of last year. I couldn't say no to a musical theatre project which is now taking shape and taking off. All of these are projects I would have dreamed of even 2 years ago, but still, I feel guilty that they've made me not work on the book.


Then there are all the smaller bits- but things that are in fact huge as well. My 'day to day' reviewing but also some pretty big pieces in the last year- The Stage, Slate, American Theatre. None of these I could say no to. Oh and writing another academic book chapter.

And I feel like a failure because many academics churn out far more 'proper' academic work than that- journal articles, book chapters, and monographs. But also, that they have the institutional infrastructure in which to do it.

Because that's the thing. It's fucking hard doing this outside. And I know academics don't want to hear that. Because they like thinking theirs is the hardest job in the world. And yes I know you all struggle with research time, and you work bloody hard if you're teaching. But you have an institutional support mechanism as simple as you have libraries, you have colleagues. You go to conferences. I can't afford conferences. I can't afford academic books. I have zero concepts of what is going on in the field.

And all this makes me question the book itself.

I know I can write an intelligent, dare I say interesting analysis of Angels in America. Specifically, I can analyze the 2017 production until the cows (Angels) come home. And it's good, and I get it, I have things to say, I know that production, I have thoughts on what it means, where it sits...I have things to say.

But they're no good. Because they aren't academic things. They aren't referenced. The second half of this book only has references from reviews and the play itself. And for me, that's enough. But I know it means the book is a failure, it'll never get to print. And I can't do it I just can't do it, I can't make it 'academic'.  With the best will in the world, I'm not part of that world, and I don't have the tools. I also never had the skill.

So what do I do? I've wasted over a year on this. More if you count everything. I've pushed back deadlines so much I don't even know if it'll get published anyway. And honestly, a big part of me wants to give up, before I'm told I've failed.

And it breaks my heart. Not just because I've wasted so long, put so much into it. But because I do know I have things to say. That are valuable. That are in their tiny niche important.


But on a practical level what do I do, these are my key issues:

1. Time. How long I can sustain this, and carving out actual time to do it.
2. Money. Getting a real job. 
3. References- try as I might it will never be academic enough.
4. Proofreading. I nearly failed my PhD because my dyslexia meant I couldn't get it right (on this note the indexing terrifies me because I can't 'see' alphabetical order right and I'll fuck it up)
5. The thought that it's all wrong and not 'academic' enough anyway and it'll get thrown back at me.

So what do I do? give up on this, publish a series of glorified blog posts? do I try something different, finish it and try and find a non-academic publisher instead to take my treatise on why this play matters (then stick it in a drawer for all time when nobody does).

Or do I give up, not waste any more of my life on it?

I love this work dearly, it's what I've put everything into, but I've reached a point of wondering, when is enough enough? when do you admit your failure and move on?

Edits and Finding a Voice.

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.

International Women's Day.

It's International Women's Day. And a day to celebrate all the fierce and fearless women of our past, present and future.

Why do we still need it?

For all the women who aren't as lucky as us, who are oppressed, who struggle in their day to day lives for basic human rights.

But for our own 'first world problems' as well. For every woman who feels she can't speak out for fear of being labeled 'bossy' for every woman passed over for a louder man. For every woman who a man on a dating site has labelled 'too intimidating' for her career, her education, her salary.

For every man who has ever said I shouldn't call myself 'Doctor' if I wanted to 'get' a man. For every man who has ever called me 'too intimidating' good. Be intimidated.

For every woman who has been told she isn't good enough because she's a woman. That it isn't her place because she's a woman.

And what should we do this International Women's Day?

Women. Support each other. That means even the women who are different from you.

Support the woman who doesn't look like you think women should look like. Who chooses to dress differently to you.

Support the woman who chose to get married at 21. Support the woman who enjoys being single at 50. Support the woman who couldn't give a fuck about dating, and support the woman who would really like a husband.

Support the woman who doesn't want kids as much as the one who is desperate for them.

Support women in your workplace. Support women in your network. Support them against not just the men but the women who don't do the same.

Reach down, don't punch down. Give the helping hand you wish you'd had, don't pull the ladder up behind.

And men, this bit's for you:  listen to women. That's a great starting point. If a woman explains how she feels about something, why she doesn't like something, why she does; listen.

When women tell you about the gender pay gap, or everyday sexism, or abuse or period poverty. Listen. Don't talk over us, don't forget the minute we've stopped talking. Listen and engage.

Put women forward for things. Encourage the women you work with, that you're related to, that you're friends with.

Buy art by women. Buy their music, their books, see their plays. Don't put it in a category of 'women's' and 'not for me' we've managed to watch stories about men for decades...try it you might like it.

I have so many fierce and brilliant women in my life. To many to name individually. They are my family, my networks, some of them virtual strangers. But every woman who has ever stood by my side: You are awesome. Keep doing what you do.