Friday, February 11, 2005

Lots of "search=hl=en&q= telstar nick moran bad review" style referring urls cropping up. And damn, I'm in the Google top ten for such searches (actually, I crop up first. Blimey). Will Nick Moran's two barrels be smokin' in my direction? Go on, me old Cockerney sparrer, confront me...

I have gathered acres and acres of research, and there's yet more on its way. I have spent hours staring into space, imagining that I am getting myself into some mythical creative zone, even drifting off there when M is in mid-conversation, which must be driving her nuts. I have talked to various people about what I am up to. But at some point I know that I'll have to sit down and actually write this soddin' play. I am fast-approaching the stage where the time is right, when it's clear that I've got to invest some time otherwise spent having fun into going through the teeth-pulling exercise that is committing my ideas to paper, that if I don't my head will explode and make a right old mess of the magnolia walls. Cripes, the clock's ticking too. I have done some of the job. Nestling on the PC is a treatment, that leads the way and outlines what I will, eventually and hopefully, write. I would never usually work in this way, but it's all part of the deal and, in many respects, I know that it will make what will follow a little easier than normal. Blimey, I love my activity displacement. Should be writing a play, instead I burn CDs. At this exact moment in time I should be writing a story for the paper but am choosing to blog instead. I guess that's just the way it is. But what if this is the time when I don't get round to the real job in hand? "Sorry, sorry, couldn't deliver the script - I was running off multiple copies of The Others and Bloc Party to distribute to every house in Hull". I guess it's the fear of failure: What if this quite brilliant treatment can't be translated into a decent play? What if my voice gets lost amid my efforts to make it venue-friendly and turn in something commercial? What if someone (such as Nick Moran, or Big Joe Vagana) reads it and tells me it's shit? It won't be...but what if?

If only Dominic Masters didn't sing like Dick Van Dyke, The Others would stand a chance of winning me over. I almost like their debut, it got me into work this morning. But heck, that voice. Is he auditioning for an Eastenders in which Tim Westwood plays Dirty Den and Mike Skinner runs the bookies?

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