Frighteningly Endless Artistic Realisations

Fighting endless alarming realities has been my latest subject for musing. For those of you that missed the abbreviation, I’m talking fear. Okay, so I may well have already been wittering about insecurity and the need to self-motivate, but that’s not causing too much of an issue right now as there is such an unbelievable amount of things going on that it is difficult to find time to stop and question my rationale.

First up, our show at the Brighton Fringe is but two months away. Here is the perfect example of one type of fear that I relish: exposure. To elaborate, the idea of going on stage to exhibit the very personal nature of our comedy is terrifying in the first instance, but the sheer offensive tone is enough to put anyone off. I’m not going to delve too deeply into the details as that has enough web presence of its own and is pretty much a separate endeavour. I’m sure it’ll pop up again in the blog though, as two months in which to prepare a full-length Fringe show incorporating turntables, visuals and live sketches is going to take quite some effort.



Then we move onto fear number two. Failure (atychiphobia!). I struggle with this little kitty more than any. Counselling analysis would probably lead to something about being the youngest child or under-achieving at an academic level. Let’s face it though, we all fear failure in varying degrees. I’m not going to take up Buddhism though, because I’m sure the path to enlightenment is full-to-bursting with self-doubt. This is the ongoing internal exchange between my aspirations as a writer and my marketing stoicism.

Let’s have a hat-trick for good measure: the unknown. The great human quandary. I have an expectation that this forthcoming house-build is going to take a significant amount of time and exertion, but I have absolutely no way of quantifying this. I mean, just this week I’ve had to understand what a double kite winder staircase is, track down two bathrooms and try and decipher how the drawings are going to allow me to begin digging a trench for a new external porch. Did I mention we’re writing, rehearsing and performing a fringe show in a couple of months?

All said and done, I’ve made my bed so to speak. What this also gives me is a fantastic opportunity to begin a short novella (for my own personal practice you understand) that is most likely going to turn into a blog. I’ve been quietly enjoying the title for a week now: Dr. Strangebuild or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Construction.

Oh, and Andrew Marr, please hush. There is nothing wrong with Darwin as my deity. At least there’s some fact and inclusion involved.