I wrote an article today for a theatre website. All of my dopamine receptors are trying to pacify me into not writing this blog. “It’s done little brain. Stop little brain stop. Stop and bathe in our happy juice. Yummmzzzzzz” NO! No – dopamine, you filthy beast. No. I’ve got a blog to write. I’ve got a contract towards myself that I’m too stubborn to break.
It’s coming up to a year now. Jesus. But here we are. Me with my phone and words. Going out live! Every day! Rain or shine! You heard it here first, kids. The ridiculous life of Al Barclay – unedited. Mostly written in a rush, or drunk, or angry, or trying to be optimistic about something that wrenches my guts out. But written.
Here’s today’s blog:
“Whatever have you been doing today? O Al Barclay actor and writer?” *photo attached (sexy version)* *CV and credits (lies)*
“Gosh. Well, it’s funny you should ask me that, journalist. The last time someone asked me that question it was producer. In fact it was producer that introduced me to executive producer and other actor from TV programme plus director. Thanks to writer and funding body, we have been putting on a play called play at venue. Made possible by person, person, annoying but brilliant person and person! Ha haha haha joke. I’m also very excited to be supporting charity! Because of my best friend person I’ve never met. Me and funding body care deeply for their whatever the thing we care about is.”
Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. I love writing about it. I’m good at my job. I’m good at writing about it. There’s just this notional template that has been established by generations of unimaginative people writing about it before us. And the need to mention everybody’s names. But where do you stop? Ethan and Harry the chippies were fucking indispensable during the get in for this show. They smashed it and worked like trains. They built the table. The shelves. The benches. They put the board up. They put the mirror in. They did invaluable carpentry work with circular saws in the dark and cold. Botan gave days of labour sorting electrics, shifting stuff around, making things look better, bringing positivity, doing it. Anna-Fleur held us all together while working harder than all of us, and sorted out stuff way beyond her remit knowing that nobody else would. Insanely positive, utterly brilliant. But for me to write my article about their work – it would have been a good article but not to brief. Because there’s a template to fit. Maybe I should’ve been less obedient, but I feel it’s in our interests to have that generic “yayy theatre” article published. Plus it IS in my voice to an extent. It’s just the obedient version of that voice. And I’m not instinctively obedient.
So yeah. My first commissioned article. Hooray etc. About a show I love too. But what you’re witnessing is me coming to terms with the difference between writing freeform for my own site, and writing for PR.
Hey ho. It’s past 2am. I’m done. Here’s Jack measuring material today. He’s a total legend. Rehearsals reshmersals.