Good rehearsal last night for Year Without Summer. The way we’re doing things now seems to be: bit of surgery on various scenes, then a run of the entire thing for the final hour. I’m pretty confident about the pacing of the thing, and we certainly seem to be avoiding what was my greatest concern/fear (neither word is exactly right) about how this play would turn out: I was determined that it should not be simply a hour of posh people talking about writing. While it’s very far from the first thing I’ve written, I guess that this is the one that I’m putting myself further out on. I’m not exactly sure what the distinction is, unless it’s literally the fact that usually I’ve been producing stuff under the nurturing umbrella of companies like the New Venture Theatre.
We have about a week and a half before we open – at Sweet Venues Brighton, and all seems to be clicking into place. I occasionally hear rumours of reviewers coming along (or maybe they’re just doing the flyer-denier thing of ‘yeah, I’m already coming to that’), and incredibly, impossibly, I’m finding myself with the time to write. This seems like an odd thing to say, since pretty much all I’ve been doing for the last three months is writing and rewriting two scripts, but those were to expectant casts and to looming deadlines. I’ve always been reasonably fond of deadlines (citing, of course, the old Douglas Adams adage), but I’m looking forward to being able to write at my own pace (whatever that is) and for my own purposes (whatever they are). That’s not to say that I haven’t enjoyed Piratanical! and Year Without Summer (indeed, I think the latter is one of the clearest, most coherent things I’ve done, and even after savage edits, achieves pretty much exactly what I intended it to from the start), but it’ll be nice to reapply my attention to something that I can unpick and discover at a sensible walking speed, rather than hurtling down a roller coaster at full speed.
Meanwhile, I’m attempting to collect actors and directors for our next Cast Iron short play night, in July. In the main, these will be returning attendees, since this is an evening of plays by the same author – Richard Hearn – who has given Cast Iron many of its most memorable moments, and I sent out the emails last week (yeah, at the height of the Brighton Fringe, whaddaya gonna do about it?), and I’m getting a steady stream of responses, either confirmations or from people who can’t make it this time. Recasting required, then.
Tickets for Year Without Summer are available via that link, and we hope to see you there. Obviously we hope to see you there. I mean, we can perform to an empty room, but these kind of things are more fun with company, you know?