First note. I’ve had these notes sitting here for a month but until I got the first show out of the way, and it went okay, I couldn’t have been brave enough to put these out there.
Second note. Trying to bring a show together occasionally causes loss of perspective. About everything else. In the world.
Third note. None of this matters. It’s just a bloody poetry show, at the bloody Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Where everyone is telling their story. And yours is no more important than anyone else’s.
Is this a (very long) set or a ‘show’? A script? A story?
Storytelling? Theatre? Live art? Spoken word live art theatre storytelling performance show?
It’s an HOUR. What the f**k am I going to talk about for an hour (How am I going to memorise this?) ? How boring will this be?
I have the attention span of a concussed gnat.
I wonder what the attention span of a gnat actually is?
I would rather do ANYTHING than this.
Oh god, there is a Collective.
I am not pulling my weight. Other people are doing more things. I’m lost, what am I supposed to be doing again?
I know nothing about how to do this.
Maybe I should do something else.
Like break my legs.
Start with the poems. They’re all you’ve got, anyway. Work out the story. There is one. Trust it. Go on. Now just do patter, patter away the show.
Now make it interesting.
(this is not interesting)
I hate every single one of these poems.
I just keep saying the same thing in different ways.
Everyone has heard these a million times before.
‘brief lifeline’ though.
That is a good phrase. I don’t care if it doesn’t make sense. Listen to the sounds of it. Those ‘f’s make it make sense.
I’m going to draw a picture of a shifty raccoon now.
Is this safe? Acceptable? Timid? Does this ASK ANYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING? I want fierce and awkward and uncomfortable and difficult. ‘We do not live in an age where poetry should warm the heart’ (Miriam Gamble). I fear this is ‘lovely’ and will be delivered in ‘dulcet tones’.