Let The Voting Commence! November 27, 2009

Hallo everyone, my you look super nice today…

That’s right, I’m after something. As some of you will know I took part in the 48 Hour Film Challenge over in Jersey a few months back. Now the time has come to call in backup and get people voting for the film so we can win jubilation and slap each other on the back (oh, and win some cash as well which is always nice). The setup is teams arrived in the same place on the same day, picked a title and genre from a hat at random… and then had 48hrs in which to write, shoot, edit and finalise a short film. We picked ‘crime’ and ‘Morning Mist’.

ACTION!

So after a little lag of delay all the films created on the Vauxhall 48 Hour Film Challenge have been put up for the mercy of viewers to vote. And this is where you come in, yes you. I’m looking at you, you’re looking at me. We’ve got this eye contact thing nailed.

All the films are over here: (click here and vote for ‘Morning Mist’)

What a bunch of filmmakers...

And all the films are great but this is where I have to draw the line in this so-called free-loving atmosphere. I want you to vote for my film because I’m proud of it and hey, we made it in 48 hours. This is where you tell me that the others were too, seeing as it’s called the 48 Hour Film Challenge, but ignore that. Eyes on me, go click on the ol’ 5 stars bit on ‘Morning Mist’. And I’m sorry if you’ve already heard this spiel on Facebook or Twitter. It just means I love you a little bit more than the rest, just a little mind you. People talk.

I will love you all that little bit more than is allowed.

Thank you, love you, I’m afraid I can’t do that I’m not allowed anymore.

Much love,

Kx.

p.s. I forgot to mention you do have to join which only takes a few seconds but once you’re on there you can download short films for pittance and what’s more you can download them, burn them and keep them all for yourself. You do not have to pay to join. Good? Great.

p.p.s. Plus all the films will be screened as part of the London Short Film Festival (y’know, the projector with teeth?) at the Roxy in London Bridge area. If you’re around that time and want to see some films and the people behind it… why not come along. I’ll be there, hope that doesn’t dissuade you.

Pay It Forward To The Nice Folk November 13, 2009

A while ago the rather Lovely Teresa blogged a simple humbling idea that I was lucky to be part of which was the idea of paying it forward. Over at Teresa’s blog she asked for people to leave a comment and the first three people would receive such unpredictable gubbins through the post. See, I told you the idea was Lovely didn’t I?

And after my emotional return from Shropshire I found the parcel Teresa had sent me filled with stuff to warm my cockles. I promised I’d blog the gradual ascension of the goods she gave me so without further a do I now have photographs:

I would like to be addressed like this forthwith

Inside of which was a Lovely card:

Polite Demands Were Held Inside

Of which asked of me to share the Lovely things I’d been given and of course I shook my head vigorously (even though there was no one in the house to see). Then to the delights I had in store…

TA DA!

In time for Christmas I have my own dinky Grow Your Own Christmas Tree of which the progression of my mini beast will be well documented on here. Here’s hoping it will not grow too tall. Then some bouncing putty which I LOVE! I’ve bought this as a gift many a-time for other people but never had some to myself. YES! It’s fun, that much I know is true. And then last but not least I have miniature clay of wonderous colours. It’s called Toy Clay but I like to call it MY Toy Clay. I’ve decided that after finding out my impending surgery date for gallbladder extraction is 4th December I will keep this close to hand to while away the quiet time I’ll have to be stuck in bed. Oh right, I know how to recuperate!

So my paying it forward time has arrived. Come one, come all… the first three people to leave a comment (preferably a nice one, I don’t want my happy bubble burst just yet) will get some small Loveliness sent their way. On the condition that, as I have just shown and stuck to, you must spread it on to people too. Share the Lovely things!

Ladies And Gentlemen We Were Floating In Shropshire November 8, 2009

I’ve been extremely zen like since I got back and I seem to float around with the biggest lump in my throat. I feel physically sick when I think back to the week just gone and whenever someone asks me how it went I start to cry. This is a good thing, it was magnificently perfect. I couldn’t have asked for more, I’m just in mourning for what has been an emotional and enlightening week of self discovery of not only my writing but my attitudes to work and my drive.

I’d intended to work on one of the two plays I have lying around aching for re-writing but Simon threw me a curveball whilst having a smoke on the Monday night. “Why don’t you try writing something new whilst you’re here?” I baulked, I panicked. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it because he was right. My plays are at a stage where I just need to write them and not dwell on development anymore. So I started looking at a four paragraph monologue I had banging around on my laptop that I’d done as a writing exercise rather than anything; I’ve never written a proper monologue for performance before.

Then my journey began. I’d wake up at 6am then work on the piece, have the group session at 10am and hand work to Simon. One-on-one tutorials were in the afternoon and after mine I’d work on it again before dinner, then our evenings were planned with readings or a guest speaker and then after the frolics and copious amounts of alcohol I’ll go back and work on my piece till wee hours of the morning. I did this every day I was there so no wonder I was an emotional wreck by the time I got back home after the 3 hour drive. It was a routine, my routine that worked and I stuck to; something that doesn’t happen when I’m here, back in the real world with jobs and events and stresses.

More importantly I was making decisions for myself. It’s great having a mentor to guide you through and pick you up and point out the great bits to you but when you’re capable of being able to be self-aware of those decisions it’s so much more poignant. I told Simon that I was fucking proud of my piece of work because I had made the decisions and realised when they were right. Everyone was at varying degrees of their career in writing but I did feel a little out of my depth and once again was the youngest. But to be honest we all shared the same ambition so I felt more at ease once I felt like I knew what I was doing.

To have someone out there in the profession whose just as eager and prone to the pitfalls of the commissioning process say they’re excited about your work is just something I wanted to write on my forehead so I could see it every time I looked in the mirror. There was so much Simon said to me but for fear of sounding like I’m gloating and because a lot of them were personal I won’t splash them on here. All I will say is that it felt like I had an enthusiastic tutor who was also a mate. Admittedly on the first tutorial I felt a little intimidated but he’s such an easy going, extremely fucking funny, guy that you forget where you are and your half hour tutorial has whizzed by in a fury of energy, ecstatic words and a bundle of motivation.

The last night of the week we were all encouraged to read out some of the pieces we’d been working on in the week. Simon was eager for me to read the entire monologue out and it was true that I wanted to hear it but I wasn’t too sure about me being the one to do so. Throughout the week Simon had been reading us samples of his work that had never been read before and it was electric. He also has a great aptitude to sight read and give it full meaning and resonance. I voiced my concern at reading the piece myself and when I asked him if he’d read it on behalf of me he jumped at it. Not only did it help that I’d hear it back but it was brilliant to hear it for the voice it was intended for, male. As Simon read the piece and gave it his full attention and brought every nuance to light I sat and held my breath. This piece had just been born when I arrived at the Hurst so both Simon and I had seen this develop and grow as the week had gone on. What was evident as the monologue silenced the room is that I really had done a lot of work on it and Simon could see that and stressed how strong and clear it was. He knew this piece as well as I did.

There are so many things to take away from this trip and I still can’t get my thoughts into order so that I don’t well up every time I think back to the lasting effect. Don’t get me wrong I wasn’t hunched over my laptop sobbing every night I was there. It was the idea that I had to carry on this motivation when I returned back to home. It was the big realisation when I had to leave the last morning that the rest was now up to me. I knew several of the Lovely people I had met whilst there had already left at 6am or thereabouts. I got up early and sat and had breakfast with myself but I couldn’t shake this melancholic feeling. I sat in silence and was adamant that I wouldn’t leave until I shook myself out of this slump and realise my achievement. There was no way I wanted to make the 3 hour drive back with my mind cluttered with clashing thoughts. So I went and stood looking over the hills in the morning sunshine. Then Ewan appeared and we had a laugh over breakfast and instantly my mood lifted. Simon soon followed and then the laughter continued and it was like mates saying goodbye rather than the end of a long week. My head and my heart were in the right place and as we hugged our goodbyes and kissed cheeks I knew my drive home would be a determined one. By the time I’d reached the other end I was inspired to calm down, slow down and realise my potential. Whilst I’m focused on what I want to achieve I more than often get tangled in too many projects and spend my time trying to rely on retreats like this to write when I should be doing it regardless.

I met some cracking people up in Craven Arms most of which I’ll keep in contact with and that includes Simon. Too many things to try and tell you about that were amazing and great and funny but it’s bound to end up being many of those ‘you-had-to-be-there’ moments. But I’ll leave you with this; drinking whiskey neat by candlelight till 3am listening to Mark Eitzel with Mister Stephens is going to stay with me for a long time. That and being mistaken for Lenny Henry multiple times.

SPARKS and Shropshire November 2, 2009

First of all I’m going to be loving you, patting your head, whispering semi-sweet nothings in your earholes and then sodding off to Shropshire. But I thought I’d at least stop by here and tell you that I possibly love you and offer something in this awkward relationship we have going on. I know I keep flitting here, there and everywhere (else) but it’s the way it goes. Look, don’t cry… I bought you flowers. But the dog ate them. I bought you chocolates. I ate them. You can have my friendship for another year? Oh… you thought it was something else. Umm… I can still warrant hugs. Everyone likes and needs a good ol’ hug. Too tight you say? But you said you liked them tight. Right, I was doing them so tight that you couldn’t breathe let alone express that they were too tight. Maybe hugs aren’t universal as I first thought. Have a handshake.

That there was a small splice of my brain smothered on the computer screen, it’s slightly grey matter but from my world. So therefore ergo it’s a little warped. Anywho it’s true; I’m off to Shropshire tomorrow and yet again I’ve been too busy to even think of anything further than 4 hours ahead of what I have planned. I’ve just packed and I still haven’t read my own script. Therefore ergo I fail. I wish I was getting the train so I can read but I will be driving and listening to the Tom Tom yell at me that I should have turned some directions behind. But I come bearing good news! One of my pieces is going to be read out at the great night called SPARKS in Brighton. It’s a neat setup with photographers and writers being each others’ stimulus and I’m truly gutted that I’m not there to read my own work and be in the company of Lovely folk. The night is run by Jo Mortimer and more information can be found out for the event over yonder:

Sparks

Other works on the bill that night include:

Vanessa Gebbie
Wendy Greenhalgh
Jac Cattaneo
Jon Pinnock
Katie McCullough (that’s moi)
Yeu-Ing Mo
Vanessa Gellard

Once again, I’m gutted that I can’t be there as I was well up for not only reading my own work but catching up on Brighton, it’s been too long.

(Brief Judo Interlude)

I walked the other way

So yes Shropshire is next on the cards. As much as I’ll be in a Lovely part of En-ger-land I won’t have time to rest. It’s a week one-on-one intensive with Simon Stephens and from what I hear there’s nine of us mentees waiting to get elbow deep in our work. The script I’ve picked is a highly emotional piece and I really want to come out the other end clutching a strong next draft with the intention of it being what I send to agents. Pie in the sky stuff? I dunno, there’s only one way of seeing if it works.

The reason I picked this piece as opposed to my other one is because I feel it’s in the same vein as Simon’s work, in fact it has echoes of Harper Regan, but it’s not a carbon copy (I’d not read the play until after I’d concocted my own) and I’m hoping this’ll make me knuckle down to work. I’m feeling extremely lack-lustre after being so busy but not actually working on my own stuff that I know is just sitting around doing nothing. I’ve missed writing my theatre and it’s been nagging at me for such a long time that I can’t wait to fall out with it again spectacularly and then start a passionate affair with it all over again. In all honesty I just want something finished so I can actually pimp myself out. I spend so much time prepping others and dishing out advice that I’ve forgotten how to do it myself so come the end of the week I’ll have either lost several stones and gained a full theatre script or kick and scream at how I didn’t want to be a writer anyway.

Not that I’m heaping on the pressure or anything.

But it’ll be nice to have a concentrated wedge of time to put aside for one project because recently my head’s been swimming with lots of different ones and in different mediums which doesn’t exactly help the ol’ noggin.

Oh, and phone signal doesn’t work there (it’s like Kilcreggan all over again!) and they don’t have Internet either. So it’s radio silence from me and technology cleansing from her.

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Fancy a hug? I won’t squeeze you too tight, I promise. Actually I can’t, I’m too busy to promise. Don’t run away, please… hallo?