Hurtling ever closer to the Edinburgh Fringe with our solo show Cacophony (which I always panic that I’m misspelling, which will make the posters and flyers an interesting experience). It’s largely a mimed and clowning show (I should point out / remind you that it’s not me on stage), and that’s for many reasons, the top two being that Heather Rose Andrews is a great mime and clown (look, I’m guessing you already know that I don’t mean ‘clown’ as in Ronald McDonald/Pepe/Pennywise), but also because I, as a reasonably verbose writer who can indulge in clever-clever wordplay, it’s an interesting challenge to create (or rather, co-create) a piece that denies me the tools of language and dialogue.
Having said that, I’m still spending this week actually writing up a physical script. A lot of that is because of basic common sense – it will serve as an aide memoire (see, I do like verbosity) for me and Heather, but also will essentially be a tech prompt sheet for the performances. It’s going to be mainly me on the board on the nights, but it’s still (obviously) useful to have a guide to what’s going on even when there’s no dialogue.
I know that this is no revelation to many of you (particularly those who work in the generally more visual medium of film and television), but I’m finding it fascinating. At the moment, there’s certainly a level of NOW THIS THING HAPPENS, which could run the risk of being rather dry: certainly, it’s being written for our company, and our company alone, as opposed to being produced by a completely different group long after we’re dead (wow that went dark rather abruptly).
In other news, we’re attempting to raise funds for our Edinburgh show, and we’ve hit £100 for the second time. That is not to say that we’ve made £200, but that we have literally passed £100 twice. There was a mistake. A lovely person (let’s call them Theodore) donated £5 to us. Well, that was the idea. But a decimal point went awry, and they actually donated £50. We were overwhelmed: we were not entirely sure that we knew anyone could afford to donate £50 to our cause. We asked each other: ‘who’s Theodore? Is it the Theodore who can actually afford £50?!’ (We know a lot of Theodores; it’s a reasonably common name).
Meanwhile, Theodore checked their balance, and realised to their horror what had happened. Luckily, we were able to rectify the mistake (and kudos to IndieGoGo for letting the money get back to our friend with no fuss whatsoever), and we were back on our not-to-be-sneezed-at £77. Since then, we’ve had another donation to kick it back over £100, and we’re overwhelmed at the generosity of people. Look, nobody has any money to spare, not really, but when lots of friends and similarly-creative people band together and give five quid (hell, even just £1 matters, particularly when every single person on your friend feed gives £1), it all matters. It’s genuinely so special. If you have a moment, please do click through to this link and have a look at the page, with details of what perks are available on any donation from £5 to £500.
Just keep an eye on that decimal point.