I'm On My Way (from Misery to Happiness Today).
At time of
writing, I’m on the train to Edinburgh for my third consecutive solo show there
(and fourth in a row in total) and sixth or seventh EdFringe run,
depending on how you count it.
What’s weird is my first trip to this ultimate spawning ground for a performer's nervous breakdown was ten years ago this week; this time in 2008, Glyn and I climbed into a hire van with only Haribo for sustenance and drove to Scotland with a fictional flat-packed hot-air balloon basket stowed in the back, for our first Edinburgh Fringe show The Balloon Debate.
Now here I am, travelling to Auld Reekie for my third Fringe alone. If you’d asked me a decade ago if I’d ever consider bringing a solo show to Edinburgh I’d shake my head, start crying and run out of the room, particularly if you'd raised the question in September. Yet here I am, facing solo Edinburgh Number Three. It’s hard to compute how I feel about this. At the moment, I’m in a bubble of self-medicated calm, thanks to the complementary glass of red wine I opted for as part of a cheeky last-minute upgrade to First Class, which was money well-spent; particularly as I’m carrying a guitar that’s so large, it prompted the taxi driver this morning to ask if it was a cello.
The crux of it is I’m ultimately happier collaborating than working on my own, though circumstances have dictated this to be my creative route for the moment. Despite feeling this year’s (still unfinished) show is the most ‘me’ of the bunch, and looking forward to holding onto the intention of being as relaxed and open about it as I can be this time around (and fuck the consequences), I’d still ultimately prefer to be working with Glyn - and despite his similar love / hate relationship with the Fringe, I’m sure there’s part of him that pines to be here too, if only briefly; the festival draws you back against your will, like the urge to look Medusa in the face, or to check your reflection in a show window.
One thing I've learnt that I didn’t know ten years ago are the positives and negatives of the whole Edinburgh game. Firstly, it’s not a level playing field, and for all the experienced reviewers there are a plethora of pretend press who'll slam you for what you do from an unqualified viewpoint. But you have to rise above this and take the Fringe for what it is: a chance to grow as a performer and to perform a show wholly on your own terms. In reality, I actually enjoyed my last two runs more than I ever thought I would, purely by being mindful of myself and not overdoing it. Once again, I’ll do my utmost to protect my mental health. I’m also going to try to enjoy it. Let’s face it, there are far worse things you can do, plus I brought this on myself; I’m not fighting a war...yet.
What’s weird is my first trip to this ultimate spawning ground for a performer's nervous breakdown was ten years ago this week; this time in 2008, Glyn and I climbed into a hire van with only Haribo for sustenance and drove to Scotland with a fictional flat-packed hot-air balloon basket stowed in the back, for our first Edinburgh Fringe show The Balloon Debate.
Now here I am, travelling to Auld Reekie for my third Fringe alone. If you’d asked me a decade ago if I’d ever consider bringing a solo show to Edinburgh I’d shake my head, start crying and run out of the room, particularly if you'd raised the question in September. Yet here I am, facing solo Edinburgh Number Three. It’s hard to compute how I feel about this. At the moment, I’m in a bubble of self-medicated calm, thanks to the complementary glass of red wine I opted for as part of a cheeky last-minute upgrade to First Class, which was money well-spent; particularly as I’m carrying a guitar that’s so large, it prompted the taxi driver this morning to ask if it was a cello.
The crux of it is I’m ultimately happier collaborating than working on my own, though circumstances have dictated this to be my creative route for the moment. Despite feeling this year’s (still unfinished) show is the most ‘me’ of the bunch, and looking forward to holding onto the intention of being as relaxed and open about it as I can be this time around (and fuck the consequences), I’d still ultimately prefer to be working with Glyn - and despite his similar love / hate relationship with the Fringe, I’m sure there’s part of him that pines to be here too, if only briefly; the festival draws you back against your will, like the urge to look Medusa in the face, or to check your reflection in a show window.
One thing I've learnt that I didn’t know ten years ago are the positives and negatives of the whole Edinburgh game. Firstly, it’s not a level playing field, and for all the experienced reviewers there are a plethora of pretend press who'll slam you for what you do from an unqualified viewpoint. But you have to rise above this and take the Fringe for what it is: a chance to grow as a performer and to perform a show wholly on your own terms. In reality, I actually enjoyed my last two runs more than I ever thought I would, purely by being mindful of myself and not overdoing it. Once again, I’ll do my utmost to protect my mental health. I’m also going to try to enjoy it. Let’s face it, there are far worse things you can do, plus I brought this on myself; I’m not fighting a war...yet.
