Day 91. Bigger better faster more. (1/4/19)

This is one of those things that you work on between other things.

This specific one, I mean. Not the blog in general. The blog in general is usually an end of the day thing but this one is being written between two completely separate tasks. My usual structure is to write all day and then do this. Which often means starting this at six and finishing somewhere near seven.

But the 'all day' job I had down in today's diary was finished half an hour ago so I could be looking at a  five pm finish like real people have. One of the few times in my entire life that's applied to me. From there on it's all Partridge, Fleabag and Line Of Duty season 4 (3 episodes in as of last night, by tomorrow we may well have watched this week's new episode, be totally up to date and not have to worry about coming across spoilers. Though I came across a massive one last night. Thanks Jim Shelley, TV critic. Just buried there amongst all the post match fervour. Not bad considering we'd not watched any until about a fortnight ago. Next up, I continue West Wing and finally tackle The Wire)

(Soundtrack: my own radio show again. The 'Righteous Fury' edition I put together after the election before last when the country embarked on its ambitious programme of screwing up as much as possible as quickly as possible. Currently, Springsteen 'No Retreat, No Surrender'. Because I'm furious and we need to be making a stand against the stupid people, the liars and the crooked bastards who break electoral rules and think saying 'we could prove we're innocent but we've destroyed all the evidence' washes with any of us.)

This is how the day sits:

Before me I have a list of songs. They're for a thing. They were in an order, they may be in a different order. It's part of a process. Writing is rewriting. Structure is restructuring. Think I may have invented that last bit. Looking forward to digging into this, it's going to be something else.

Behind me is the script for The Comeback Special. The bones of which are the bones it had four years ago today when me and J attended the Hope Playwriting Prize 2015 awards night and I walked away with the Highly Commended Award.

That's something that's opened doors. You pitch something to a theatre and the fact that you've got that to your name really helps you. It adds credibility. It adds purpose and intent. You're not just somebody with a script. You're somebody with a script who has another script that won an award.

An award for comedy at that. Never had any idea that I could be funny. Certainly not deliberately funny. Now have a certificate that says I managed it at least once.

And Comeback is funny. Every version of it to date has been funny. People have been on their feet applauding ferociously at every performance. That's a lovely sound, that. I think it might be a little bit like crack. The first time you hear it you need it again immediately.

Four years on, the script has changed. The bones, as already indicated, remain the same. The gags move round, the characters breathe, actors change and the people they're playing change. They become funnier, more melancholic, softer, sadder, sharper, harder, more threatening. The director changes and finds new things to play with in the text. He finds new things first time he does it. Second time he finds newer still.

The joy of collaboration. The director suggests something to an actor, an actor suggests something to the director, the words on the page grow new meaning.

There are two incredible things that can happen to a writer:

1) The actor can find something in a line that you didn't know was there

2) The actor can find something in the script that is exactly what you put there, carries every thought you placed behind the line and makes it something far more than you expected.

Case in point:

There's a line in Comeback. It's quite possibly my favourite line of anything I've ever written.

The villain of the piece has the 'hero' at his mercy. It's a moment that's been building. A character tells him 'you're better than this' and his reply is:

"Am I? You reckon? I'm f***in' not y'know."

It's designed (yes, these things are designed, they're not just made up as I go along) to show the character has some self awareness about his situation, knows what his life is.

In the hands of Liam, who plays the character, the whole thing is amplified. He delivers it on the edge of tears. He knows he's doomed by his own actions, he knows he can't escape from who he is, knows that he serves no purpose in life other than to hurt people. And he's trapped. He'll never be anybody other than who he is.

The first time I saw that in rehearsal I was heart broken. It was the most perfect reading of any line that I could imagine.

And bear in mind at this point, every other actor we're working with is equally bloody brilliant. But this one line, though. This one line had everything.

Had everything I wanted to to be and so much more.

This is the joy of what I do now: the moment where you've let go of the piece you created and everybody else takes it somewhere bigger and better.

Best job on earth.

Now to the song list. And the next thing.