Welcome to the Post Grad Party

'Best days of your life at University. But enjoy it while it lasts. Come the post-grad party, the bank start gluing the Black Spot to your statements.' - Adam Mackie

On the last night of Temp/Casual, I enjoyed a reunion with some old university friends plus our Theatre Studies lecturer. From left, Chris Meredith, Andy Cupples, me, Richard Oberg, Julian Morris. In fact, one of the highlights of my life was acting in a production of August Strindberg's totally bonkers but brilliant play To Damascus, directed by Chris and starring the other three. Over 15 years ago. Big blast from the past. Chris paid me the ultimate compliment by saying he had walked out of the Royal Exchange's recent Five at Fifty saying it was bloody awful. Temp/Casual he loved. Thanks Chris!


Already the production of Temp/Casual feels a long time ago; five performances is not much really, particularly for the actors who are just hitting their stride and then it's all over. But given the acclaim the play has received, hopefully it will return at a later date somewhere else. Watch. This. Space.


As for me, I have to return to the real world. This I find difficult. No, impossible. Actress Julie Chapman-Lavelle said I had a poet's soul. This is true but in the harsh modern world, there isn't much call for poets and dreamers. I've been dismissed from several jobs over the years, and the same thing looks like it's happening again. The criticism I keep hearing is this: 'Steve, you live in your own world.' Yes, and it's a damn sight better than the one everybody else lives in. Creativity is the umbilical which keeps me alive. But sadly, I can't swap poetry for fruit, veg or bus tickets (though in my head, that sort of thing happens every day).


Come the inevitable Re-Start interview, I will certainly be asked the question 'What sort of work are you willing to accept?' Not what sort of work are you looking for? Because under the Con-Dems, choice has been photo-shopped out of the equation. If Tom Paulin was on his uppers, the DSS would simply stop his benefits if he refused to accept that gig stamping invoices in a drain-pipe factory. End of. Which reminds me: I was on holiday in Italy several years ago, and a bar tender - upon discovering I was English - asked the question - 'You English ... why do you work so hard?' I didn't have an answer


But I have a dream. Several actually but this one is uppermost at the moment. That one day, being bored shitless will be sufficient grounds for medical retirement. Yes! Or admitting that some jobs are 'injurious to the soul' will be accepted with an agreeable smile rather than an arched, dismissive eyebrow. As George Formby sang - 'You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming.'    


Interestingly, a lot of people responded to the poem 'Temporary' (supposedly written by the character Martin Coverdale) that features throughout the play, and said they would love a copy - presumably to stick on the fridge door. Well, here it is. Thanks for listening.




TEMPORARY  
After the matey snaps, warm handshakes   

and Harvey’s Cream reception

comes the mourning.

The bright robes of academia

exchanged for sackcloth and ashes.

And warm memories

of daytime soaps and lectures

viewed through hazy, alcohol heavy eyes,

fade like burnt diary pages.

Ambition folds in on itself

like a collapsed star.

Drudgery becomes our buzz word,

a smoking tattoo, iron branded

onto our once hungry skins.

But there is unity in disillusionment.

We are Godzilla, they are Japan.

They’ll never win.

Not as long as we have the mind to daydream,

And the breath to tell them - ‘Shove it.’

Q&A

The feedback to Temp/Casual has been pretty amazing, and the majority of people I've spoken with have praised the emotional honesty of the piece. Last night, after the show, there was a Q&A in the theatre foyer with myself, Ben the director, and the cast. I approached this with some reluctance; having attended such events as a theatregoer in the past, I was expecting half a dozen people to turn up. Astonishingly, about 30 people hung around to listen. They seemed very interested in the themes of the play, and us as a company. Somebody asked the question how much of it was based upon personal experience, and which character was closest to myself; I replied that Martin, the sensitive poet, is the once closest to my own personality but in effect, all of these characters represent different facets of me (with the possible exception of the lap dancer, Vicky.)

One young girl asked the question whether or not this play was a fair representation of women. It was inevitable someone was going to raise the issue, given two of the women end up working in the sex industry. But this is simply one dramatic strand of several in the play; Temp/Casual acknowledges that this world exists, and that some people chose to enter it. There simply isn't the space to explore that world in more detail - though maybe I will in another play. In the debate that followed, one man said that some women work in the sex industry because they enjoy it. I am not qualified to answer that question and I wondered how he could be so sure. Actress Julie Chapman-Lavelle was rather irked by his attitude but thankfully reigned in her anger before the question hijacked the proceedings. Hopefully, from my point of view, I think there are enough positive female characters in the play to offer some sort of balance. But then I chose to see these characters as individuals first, and men and women second.

Coincidentally, the best comment I received this week came from Marilyn Chapman, Julie's mum. She is a remarkable woman, and currently in remission from breast cancer. I have never met her before but after the Q&A, she came over to give me a massive hug, and praised my emotional honesty. Marilyn said she could tell I was a deeply sensitive and emotional person - well, it takes one to know one, and she is exactly the same as me. She was very moved by the play, and loved how it had been developed from the original 24:7 production. She told me that I have to keep writing, because the world needs plays like this one. Wow! I couldn't have come up with higher praise if I had written it myself.

But artists have to take the smooth with the rough, and the What's on Stage review damned me with faint praise, labelling me a 'competent writer', questioning the structure of the piece, and wondering what the point to all of this was. I thought that was pretty clear but it's unrealistic to expect everyone to be on my wavelength (though the reviewer did begrudgingly acknowledge my ear for realistic dialogue that was funny and moving.) Actually, I might even agree with some of that; structure has never been my strong point but I personally think it's overrated. I write from an emotional perspective, less an intellectual one. Why? Because I think it's more interesting. No, it feels more interesting. Besides, Marilyn's comments carry far more weight and meaning. If you're reading this Mrs Chapman, thankyou so much; I will remember your words for a long time to come.

First Night Nerves

Tree of Life, the new film from enigmatic director Terrence Mallick, recently got booed at the Cannes Film Festival. Terrence Mallick is famously reclusive, and doesn't do interviews, nor opening nights. Star Brad Pitt leapt to his director's defense (naturally, Mallick was absent from the Festival), and said that arists shouldn't have to be salesmen as well. Good point.

I'm guessing Mallick (who has made a meagre five films in almost forty years) is someone who finds being in the spotlight incredibly uncomfortable. He wants his films to speak for themselves; his loathing of Hollywood bullshit is the reason he took twenty years off (from the late 70's to the late 90's, when he came out of the wilderness to make The Thin Red Line.) I can relate. BUT when you're on the bottom rung of the ladder, you don't have the luxury of behaving in that way. You HAVE to be a salesman. You want people to be aware of your product, and that means being dragged to do interviews. Kicking and screaming.

Admittedly, I was only on Radio Manchester but I still felt sick with nerves. I appeared on the Becky Want show on Monday, talking about Temp/Casual. Becky was very nice, asked some interesting questions, and I did my best, even though the 'inner critic' kept getting in the way. Really, it's my lack of belief in myself which holds me back. The truth is ... I'm pretty clueless most of the time. Okay, I'll try and be kinder - 'some of the time.' What's the answer? Well, it's a spiritual Elastoplast. A wise man once told me to act 'as if'; i.e., act as if you what you're doing and defy anyone to spot the difference. You know what? That's pretty much what everybody else does. Welcome to the human race!

Tonight was opening night. It went like a bomb! In a good way, obviously. The cast gave 100% commited performances, the technical aspects of the show were slick and polished, and the audience (almost a full house) were incredibly engaged and responsive. Lots of very positive comments on the feedback sheets; I'll add a few on here next time. My friend Rebecca told me it was a fantastic play, and that she was genuinely moved by the experiences of the characters. Quite a few other people said the same, and praised the grittiness and emotional honesty of my writing. Even better, they said they would recommend the play to their friends.

So why do I find it so hard to believe them?

When I was at Junior School, a teacher used to pick on me. Not only was he a bully, he was a ginger. Once he told me that I was stupid and would never amount to anything. Mr Quinn (that was his name) is dead and buried now but his words still sting. Yes, the inner critic has ginger hair! How do I remove his voice from my head? Pay a visit to the cemetary, find his grave and tell him what I needed to say 35 years ago: 'You're wrong. Fuck you!'

Is there a point to all this? Maybe Terrence Mallick's problem is actually the same as mine. Maybe he avoids the spotlight because he doesn't feel that he deserves to be in it in the first place. If you're reading Terry, give me a call - we should talk.

Until next time ...

'Why Can't We Share Our Pain?'

This is a photograph from the 24:7 production of Temp/Casual, featuring the original Stick, Karl Dobby (on the left).

Karl recently left the acting profession to become an agent. I was curious as to why and e-mailed him to ask. This is what he said:

"Right, there were lots of reasons why I knocked acting on the head. None of them being the main one but all being a big contribution to the decision. There were things like... my heart not being 100% in it, not getting excited when I was offered jobs, the unreliability of it all, never seeing my girlfriend. Along with a hundred more.

It was a really hard decision because it was all I'd ever known as an adult. All I had ever done was go from acting job to acting job to bar job to acting job. My life always had an unpredictability and no guarantee that I was going to be able to pay next months rent. Don't get me wrong, it was really exciting and a lot of fun but I felt like it had a limited shelf life. Especially when you add all the other reasons I talked about to it as well.

When I started thinking about my future too I wanted a bit more stability. Which was quite a confusing thought purely because every one always talks about getting away from the boring structure and rigidity of a job and for me it was the exact opposite. I just wanted some formality to my life. I found it really exciting because it was a complete flip on all I knew.

Although I knew I wanted to leave the performing world I knew I didn't want to leave the business behind. Working out what I was going to do took about a year of thinking and trying. I tried being a PA, a researcher and a few others in between but once I landed on Agenting it was like the idea was made for me. It was the only job that excited me, challenged me and kept me inside the industry to the level I wanted. It also gave me the best opportunity to keep seeing as much theatre as I like to.

I've been at it for 8 months now and I've worked for 3 different companies. Representing big names and some even bigger personalities. I've been offered 5 different jobs and I got head-hunted once. I'm still loving it just as much as I did at the start. It gets harder each day but also gets more rewarding."

So there you have it. Anyway, that's enough about Karl, it's time to talk about me. Recently, lots of people have asked me the question - 'Steve, where do you get your ideas from?' Actually, that's complete bollocks; nobody has ever asked me that question, but for the purposes of this piece, I'm going to pretend otherwise (pretend you didn't read the last bit.)

'We're all in pain - why can't we share our pain?'

That line comes from Mike Leigh's film Secrets & Lies. If there's one connecting thread between all the plays I've written, then it's that the characters are in pain - struggling, and desperate to reach out. I'm not talking about physical pain here but emotional pain; hurt, shame, grief, fear. All those difficult emotions which society tells us to suppress because if we display them publicly, then we risk mockery and ridicule. So we block and hide our pain, became addicts of different sorts (if nothing else we're a nation of workaholics - surely the most pernicious addiction of all), and go out into the world with a smiley mask fastened to our face, a mask which betrays our true feelings. What would happen if we took the mask off? Would society fall apart? I don't think so. The world might become a kinder, more benevolent place. 

I speak from experience. Over the last few years I've been forced to deal with some painful emotions, and on occasion have genuinely feared for my sanity. The German philosopher Nietsche believed his suffering had made him a much deeper person (though he never had a girlfriend and for the last few years of his life lived with his mum - loser!). Yes, suffering is the touchstone of spiritual growth and my own misery has made me a much more empathic person. As a writer, this has helped me get into the head space of characters who are literally going through the depths of despair. If nothing else, I want audiences to be moved by the experience of Temp/Casual; if they are then I've done my job.

'We're all in pain ...'

 

Recently I watched a documentary called Shed Your Tears and Walk Away, which is about addiction and suicide in Hebden Bridge. Yes, pretty little Hebden Bridge, the West Yorkshire village with its quirky craft shops, artist studios and boho cafes. To say this film paints a bleak picture is an understatement: it makes Nil By Mouth look like Wall-E. Over the 18 months this film was shot, there were appriximately 15 deaths in the town, most of them people under 40, and all related to booze or drugs; many of these people were friends of the director (I think 5 of them were suicides). It's almost like a plague is sweeping through the town. Some scenes are dificult to watch but it's a moving experience. And in spite of their behaviour, these people are very honest in articulating the causes of their unhappiness. This is most apparent in a man nicknamed 'Silly' (which is short for Silcock or something); for reasons never explained, he had left Hebden Bridge in his twenties, joined the Foreign Legion and later served in Rwanda, where he has seen some horrific sights. Back in Hebden Bridge, he's now a binge drinker, spiralling into self destruction to numb his pain and stop the nightmares.        

Again, I've gone off at a tangent but you'll get used to it. 'Where do you get your ideas from?' Well, there's too much suffering in the world and stories like the one I've just mentioned need to be heard. Writers don't need to look very far for inspiration - all I have to do is step outside the front door. What's the last line of Chekhov's Three Sisters? 'Will we ever know why we suffer so much?' It's a question I keep asking. Well, somebody has to.

Time to do the weekly shopping. Even tortured artists need to eat.