Navigating a Brain Explosion.
Producing a show can feel like an experiment into how much stress one man can take.
Yesterday, the shit hit the fan all at once, when I learnt the person who was meant to assisting me in Brighton this Thursday may no longer be available and realised the deadline for artwork for my advert in this year's Just the Tonic Edinburgh brochure was today, within minutes of each other; this, after a day that had already been overwhelmed with admin, with no time to rehearse even before the extra double-headed bombshell hit.
While I try hard to keep on top of things without letting it escalate to high-pressure, it can be hard to keep on an even keel when I’m not feeling my best. This is greatly exacerbated when working alone. I like to think I'm good at solving problems when they come up, and that I’m not one to give in, but we all have our limit. I wouldn’t mind if I felt I’d spent enough time on my material or that I had sufficient positive reinforcement, but invariably, I feel like I'm booking dates to little interest, or that I'm being slighted or ignored by those I hoped were on my side.
Even Mostly Comedy is a case in point. Last month, I previewed my show there to the smallest turnout in years (around thirty people), yet this month’s gig has already sold out. I understand why, but however logically or realistically you look at it, it’s still going to hurt. While I’m deeply proud of the club’s growth, it’s frustrating to set something up with a view to having the opportunity to perform regularly, to feel a steady decrease in interest when you perform there yourself.
I know I’m being emotional, through tiredness. I’m still excited at the prospect of Brighton and all those other dates in June and July as an opportunity to work something up. I had a great time performing the show in its current state in Bath and at last month’s Mostly (despite the small turnout) and know that doubt and frustration is an integral part of creativity. But please, Dionysus, be kind to me for the next few days. Yes, that's right: I just referenced the ancient Greeks.
Yesterday, the shit hit the fan all at once, when I learnt the person who was meant to assisting me in Brighton this Thursday may no longer be available and realised the deadline for artwork for my advert in this year's Just the Tonic Edinburgh brochure was today, within minutes of each other; this, after a day that had already been overwhelmed with admin, with no time to rehearse even before the extra double-headed bombshell hit.
While I try hard to keep on top of things without letting it escalate to high-pressure, it can be hard to keep on an even keel when I’m not feeling my best. This is greatly exacerbated when working alone. I like to think I'm good at solving problems when they come up, and that I’m not one to give in, but we all have our limit. I wouldn’t mind if I felt I’d spent enough time on my material or that I had sufficient positive reinforcement, but invariably, I feel like I'm booking dates to little interest, or that I'm being slighted or ignored by those I hoped were on my side.
Even Mostly Comedy is a case in point. Last month, I previewed my show there to the smallest turnout in years (around thirty people), yet this month’s gig has already sold out. I understand why, but however logically or realistically you look at it, it’s still going to hurt. While I’m deeply proud of the club’s growth, it’s frustrating to set something up with a view to having the opportunity to perform regularly, to feel a steady decrease in interest when you perform there yourself.
I know I’m being emotional, through tiredness. I’m still excited at the prospect of Brighton and all those other dates in June and July as an opportunity to work something up. I had a great time performing the show in its current state in Bath and at last month’s Mostly (despite the small turnout) and know that doubt and frustration is an integral part of creativity. But please, Dionysus, be kind to me for the next few days. Yes, that's right: I just referenced the ancient Greeks.
