I am having quite the interesting week, really. It is amazing just how much stuff you can find on the internet when you have an assignment due.
I have actually drafted my essay. It is only three thousand words, but while I have had little problem with the quantity, the quality, I fear, will be sadly lacking. This is because while I can write an academic essay and I can write a personal response, I find it quite difficult getting a personal academic response together. The irony of all this is that what started out as a major exercise in going through the motions of rolling out a workplace plan, ended up being a really useful exercise, probably more useful than I could ever have imagined and so while my essay looks like I have not cared at all, it is probably the assignment out of all I have done to date that has been the most useful.
Today I was listening to an interview with an actor called William Rycroft, who was in the National Theatre production of War Horse. As I was listening, though, I was just transported back to the night I went to see it. I had arrived in Melbourne around four in the afternoon for a work meeting the next day having cried nearly all the way there stone cold sober on a bouncy, bouncy flight (there is the title of my next Country and Western hit). I had decided to try and get a ticket if I arrived in time but had reckoned without Melbourne traffic, which was just gridlocked throughout the city. The taxi inched across two intersections and I finally got to my hotel room at 7pm. I decided to try and make it and knowing only the general direction I was headed (which was fortunately downhill) I set off running. I arrived at the box office covered in a thin film of sweat like looking I had just committed a bank robbery and got a ticket at the door. It was the best decision I ever made.
I knew the set up, I knew about puppets and the story, but I had forgotten about the magic that happens when sound and lighting and set design and performance are added into the mix. I am so glad I went, worth every bead of sweat – and almost worth the bouncy, bouncy terror of the flight.
Right, that is enough procrastination. The creative challenge today was a link to a poem that I did not know, but it was interesting reading about the poet and hearing Cheryl Strayed (of Wild fame) read it. The last line was for me the most striking and the question posed was whether pain is sometimes the catalyst for creative force. I am not sure. I can write very quickly when I am annoyed or excited, but does that mean I am writing well? Or just fast?
Either way it got me thinking of another interview I had heard with artist Laura Kriefman who created the Mass Crane Dance in Bristol. How brilliant was that? How do you get to have that kind of idea? I don’t, the best I can do is write a poem in response – and that became the result of my day four challenge. (Monsters) I am not a poetry writer, and this took me ages but I am finding fiction tough at the moment.
No time to proofread my assignment, that will be tomorrow’s job. Time for bed.