A Cock in a Frock on a Rock

Much as I’d love to claim authorship of the above, it’s actually a line from ‘Priscilla, Queen of the Desert’.

I’m a massive fan of the film and I was excited but slightly nervous when I heard that a stage musical version was coming to town. Such a wonderfully original and quirky indie film unleashed on the theatre-going world as a big budget musical? Could it work? So many similar offerings have been universally panned, finished their run early or failed to reproduce the smallest iota of the excitement or authenticity of the original incarnation that it’s better to expect the worst. Anyway, having gone to see it for myself last night, it seems that the reviews (mainly good) and the word-of-mouth (all good) were completely justified.

From curtain-up, when three glamorous divas were lowered from the gods to swing mid air and belt out the opening number, we all knew it was going to be good.

The casting is fab, the cheese factor has been judged superbly and the choreography is stunning. However, it’s the ‘no expense spared’ costume and set design that really pulls the show into a league of its own. Seriously, they’ve splashed the cash and haven’t missed a trick. There are so many fantastic little details where corners could have been cut without anyone complaining.

There’s plenty of exposed, toned flesh to keep the straight ladies and gay men’s eyes firmly glued to the stage and I was pleased that they hadn’t toned down the innuendo and blatant sexual references too much and turned it into a watered-down ‘ooh, er missus’ version of the film.

I wasn’t the only person who enjoyed it – a packed house all got up for a standing ovation at the end. Well, apart from the three elderly ladies in the row in front of us. They cackled their way through all the penis jokes, admired the bare buttocks pretty vocally but unfortunately mobility issues meant they couldn’t jump to their feet for the finale.

Just Take the Damned Drugs

I've just been listening to Jeremy Vine on Radio 2 while eating my lunch and I've been compelled to come back to the computer for a rant.

It was a discussion about the pros and cons of taking pain relief while giving birth and the bit I caught seemed to almost exclusively feature the "hair shirt" brigade.

The big natural birth argument seems to revolve around the old adage that childbirth is the most natural thing in the world and that women have been doing it for thousands of years. Well, yes, they have but I just don't get the logic - the same could be said about periods but I can't imagine anyone going without the modern conveniences of sanitary wear just because that's how it was done in days gone by.

Having gone through two births I feel I've got some inside information about the subject. Much as we'd all love to see our babies sliding gracefully into the world after a few mild labour pains and a couple of pushes, the reality for most people is a very different experience. I personally found the whole thing pretty horrific. Having been lulled into the whole natural birth philosophy during my first pregnancy I was determined to have a water birth with no intervention. The best laid plans and all that... After 36 hours of excruciating agony, someone realised the baby was lying back-to-back, her head was stuck and I'd have to have a forceps delivery. Fancy trying that without any pain relief? Neither did I.

No one is denying that childbirth is natural but one could argue the same about kidney stones or appendicitis and you wouldn't dream of suffering either ailment without some knockout pain relief. There's definitely a school of thought that maintains you've had a much more real and connecting experience if you've given birth naturally, with an almost corporate boardroom one-upmanship (or should that be one-up'woman'ship) amongst those who've done it all with just one slug of gas and air and a couple of pulses of a Tens machine. But why should those of us who opt for a little pain relief be made to feel as if we've somehow cheated?

I've got nothing but admiration for women who do manage to give birth without the aid of drugs but it just isn't an option for everyone. After two days of full-on labour, with a 91/2lb baby that was stuck, I took every damned drug that was offered to me.

Working for Free

I'm not sure if it's down to the recession or just the fact that so many people are willing to work for nothing in order to break into journalism but I've noticed so many posts and ads for jobs recently that contain those worrying words - 'intern' or 'unpaid'.

I know there's always been a culture of doing a bit of work experience or submitting a few free articles in order to get bylines and/or experience but it really seems to have reached the point of ridicule lately. Whilst a recent graduate or someone with no credits should definitely be prepared for a bit of 'voluntary work' on publications, it's undoubtedly going to have a knock-on effect for people who've carved out a career and are actually trying to make a living working as copywriters and journalists.

I'm by no means putting myself up there as a seasoned hack; I'm pretty small fry in comparison to the big guns on the dailies and large circulation glossies. However, I don't see why the career that someone's been building up for years should be belittled by assuming that they'll be prepared to work for absolutely no renumeration. Not just that, but they should be thankful for getting the opportunity to slog their guts out over an article, or to trudge across town in rush hour and work ten-hour days for three months with just a travel card and a couple of luncheon vouchers to show for their troubles.

When I left uni, I did a few weeks' of work experience at a publishing company and that did lead to my first editorial job so I can hardly moan about the use of the system - it worked for me. BUT, and it's a big but - I had absolutely no experience at the time and it was a great (and possibly one of the only) way to get your foot in the door. It just feels like many companies are now exploiting this common route into publishing by using unpaid staff for longer contracts and more responsible jobs. In short, they're trying to pull in career writers and editors to work for bugger all.

Fun in the Sun

With two kids now in tow, holidays aren't quite the relaxing oasis of sunbathing, reading and wine consumption that they used to be. Still, on the upside, I did manage to read almost half a book, sit out in the sun for at least half an hour every day and try out most of the local beers.

I also managed to do a bit of writing and it was fab to sit outside under the shade and write. I knew I wouldn't get much done so I didn't bring the laptop but writing longhand was actually quite a nice change, even though it took a while to get rid of the shakes as I don't usually write more than a sentence with a pen these days. I've just finished adding the words to the manuscript and I reckon I managed a couple of thousand so not bad.

I really looked forward to a few minutes of quiet writing time and was a bit twitchy to get going again when we got back at the weekend. Hopefully this enthusiasm will last - I keep reading about other people coming to a standstill at around the 30-40,000 word mark. I don't have a great track record of persevering with projects so I'm desperate to push on through with the first draft. Now I've got the chapters (very roughly) marked out into scenes, I'm hoping this will help to get me through any really bad patches.

The Writer's Life for Me

I work for myself and I work from home so I've got the luxury of being able to knock-off a bit early if I want to. Of course, in reality this rarely happens but I always harbour thoughts of hanging out in cafes or going for long walks around London, searching for inspiration and a bit of downtime.

Anyway, I actually managed the former on Wednesday. I didn't have that much work on so I shut off the computer around 3pm and took my novel notebook to the local deli for a coffee and a bit of writing. The notion of writing in a cafe iss a bit like picnics, or days on the beach: not quite as decadent and romantic as it plays out in your head when you're imagining the life of a writer. On the next table, a woman was with her financial advisor, discussing ways to keep her business afloat, while the man behind me slurped and chomped his way through lunch to the point that I felt like ramming the damned sandwich down his throat.

On the upside, I did manage to map out the remaining chapters of the book - very roughly into key scenes for each chapter and it was great to get away from the computer at home and out into the real world for an hour.

Going Public

There’s nothing like announcing your intentions in public to give yourself a kick up the backside in terms of getting on with it. Which is why I’ve dedicated this blog to dealing with the ongoing traumas and dramas of getting through a first draft by the end of 2009. Whether anyone reads the blog or not, it’s out there and it’s public and I’m hoping that will be sufficient impetus to get me through the difficult spots and keep plodding on regardless.

I’ve set myself a pretty reasonable 3,000 weekly word count. I’ve kept it fairly low on purpose, as I want to make sure it’s doable whilst fitting in the unpredictable nature of kids and working. That way, if I write more, then I can give myself a pat on the back.

I’m trying to write a little every day – whether it’s 100 or 1,000 words, I think it’s really important to keep the momentum going and to try and get into the habit of squeezing a bit of writing time into each day.

So, I’ve started switching the laptop on and getting my notes out just before I put the kids to bed. Then, once they’re tucked up, I sit down and write for 30 minutes to 1 hour. No tidying, no clearing up, no cooking dinner and definitely no sitting down on the sofa – any procrastinating and I know I’ll be done for. Even if I only manage a couple of hundred words, it feels like an achievement and a tiny bit of progress. If I'm feeling particularly knackered and have had a really hard day, a cheeky glass of wine by the side of the laptop provides a bit of extra incentive to sit down and start writing.

Get on with it

The novel had been festering away in the bowels of my computer for well over two years. I’d made pretty good progress when I first started it: getting home from work and writing for an hour or so, then doing a bit more at the weekend. However, that was before the pitter-patter of tiny feet and the legion of excuses that comes with the arrival of kids.

They have indeed provided me with plenty of reasons to avoid dusting off those first 20,000 words and getting on with the process of writing. Sleepless nights; decline in useable brain cells; no time to grab a cup of tea, let alone sit down to write; no space; no privacy; no life. But, there came a point when I couldn’t go on blaming the little critters for my lack of creative enthusiasm. They’re sleeping through, I have my life back (to some extent) and there’s finally a little bit of space in my frazzled brain to hold new ideas.

If indeed, I want to stop saying:
‘I’d love to write a book’, and instead be able to say:
‘I’ve written a book’, then I need to get a bloody move on and actually
start tapping some keys.

So, a few weeks ago, I finally opened the Word document and reacquainted myself with the novel in progress. Since then, I’ve written another 10,000 words and have started mapping out the remaining chapters in more detail. It’s proving to be strangely cathartic and hasn’t impinged upon my precious down-time as much as I’d presumed it would. So far, I’m really enjoying the process of getting to know the characters again and getting into the story. I’m just hoping this will last and it’s not just a rush of initial enthusiasm. Watch this space!

Pink at the o2 (Sunday 3 May)

So, we'd finished the barbecue (which was essentially rained off and moved indoors, in true British style) and were just tucking into another bottle of wine when I was offered a free ticket to the Pink gig. Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the Bank Holiday joie de vivre but before my better judgement could kick in, I'd eagerly accepted.

I've hummed along to a couple of tracks, seen clips from a few music videos and would recognise her photo in a magazine but that's about as far as my level of Pink knowledge goes. So, basically I went along with few, if any, expectations.

Turns out the girl can sing - and I mean really pelt out a number. The gig was more theatrical performance accompanied by rock/pop tunes than anything else but I like the fact that a certain amount of money and effort was spent on the tour. Although I hadn't spent any buying a ticket, I felt justified on the part of the other genuine fans who surrounded us in their droves. The place was packed full of lesbian bikers, teenagers wearing pink tutus, and the odd parent looking out of place but secretly pleased to be there.

I knew more songs that I thought and was genuinely impressed by the quality of the show and the sustained quality of her singing performance. She chatted between songs and flitted around the stage effortlessly in her impossibly high stilettos. The highlight was when she performed a trapeze routine and carried on singing while swinging across the stage upside down.