Eight shows! two preview nights, one night off and then six shows in a row.
I never performed in that way before. The most I've ever done was 2 shows a month. And that was with 2-3 hours get in time and at least an hour get out. Not here. 15 minutes get in, 15 minutes get out. No time in dressing room for make up or to stretch or get into 'Zone' , I have to do all that in my room before getting to the theatre.
I'm really curious to see what it would be like to perform every night. How would it effect my performance? Will I get bored? Will the show change at all? Will it get easier or harder?
Will it become like a song that you over-listened to and can't stand the sound of anymore? I didn't know. I'd been told by other experienced performers (non belly dancers) that the show will change and that my last performance will be nothing like my first performance of the run. They were right. But I'm ahead of myself...
First performance (preview show)
There weren't many people in the audience and the 'Kilt flahser' was there (see a couple of posts before about the first Edinburgh Performance), but I seemed to be on good form, I didn't forget any lines or mess up anything. It was good. Well, when I say good, I mean good by the standards that I was familiar with.
As there were only 13 people in the audience it was a bit of a quiet audience who didn't always respond in the way I was used to be responded to which was applause after a dance etc. giggles and laughter through out and the occasional burst of hysterics. No, none of that. But still, that didn't throw me. Up until now I'd been performing the show mainly to an audience of Belly dancers so I didn't take the fact that people of this audience are quiet too personally.
I thought to myself, 'they don't know what to expect and certainly don't know how they're 'supposed to respond'. Just keep going, you're doing fine'. Considering I had a 'true Scotsman' to deal with in the front row who's been trying to... 'inspire' me with his manhood whenever I was dancing, yes, just when I was dancing, as he would put it away while I was speaking, and listen quite attentively, and reveal it again once a dance piece started. I thought I did exceptionally well.
The music on the first night was a bit quieter than it should be and a couple of times I had to signal Caitlyn (my technician) to turn the music up. I explained to her after the show that the loudness of the music is really important for maximum impact of the dance.
After the show, the guys at my venue told me that a reviewer was in the audience. 'Ooooooh, a reviewer, how exciting, how scary, I wonder if she (I was told it was a she) liked it'. Scanning the audience in my head again from memory, I thought I knew which one she was, a girl sitting on her own in the corner. She seemed a bit shy, and I remember her smiling a lot, so I felt very positive. Some other shows at my venue have already got 4 star review and wonderful quotes which were immediately printed and stuck on their show's posters. I ask my venue people to only let me know if the review was a good one. I walk back to my room fantasising about a 5 star review appearing on my show's poster the next day, 'oh God, please please please let it be a good one'
2nd performance (also 'preview show')
No review yet. Poster still stripped of any stars or quotes.
There are more people in the audience this time. This is good.
Front row on my left, nine girls/women. I think one or two of them are dancers, I think I know who one of them is (though don't know her personally) but not sure if it's her. They are surprisingly quiet for Belly dancers and they examine me throughout, not smiling much. A couple of them have a look of 'right then, show us what you can do' on their faces. On the other side, front row right are three women, slightly older. They are having a ball. Delighted and amused by what they're seeing and hearing, they are much more involved and certainly much more responsive and appreciative right from the start, I'm not even sure if they're dancers or not . The rest of the audience is engaged, from stage it feels like they are all with me in one way or another.
The bunch of girls to my left, chat between themselves every now and again. I'm grateful for my experience performing at the Battersea Barge (a cabaret venue where food was being served during my performance), little distractions like a bit of chatting are really not a big deal for me.
I'm doing my thing. The music tonight is nice and loud and the audience is more into the show, laughing at all the right places etc. It's all going well. Half way through the show and it's my first singing number. As I'm singing, I notice a stir in the front row (yes, left side), one of the girls (the one I think I know) suddenly gets up and leaves. She's followed hastily by another. I'm singing away as if nothing is happening but I am a bit hurt, and believe it or not, I'm also a bit concerned... is she ok? Maybe something's wrong. A few seconds later, another one leaves and it's obvious that it's to check what's going on. This one comes back, says something to the rest of the gang (I really wish I knew what she said) and stays to the end of the show. An interesting thing happens, it feels like my presence is not in the me who's singing and performing but in the 'me' whose wondering what's going on, and trying to support my 'performing self' to continue despite the fact that I was just walked out on.
Another show ends. I quickly pack my stuff to make way for the next show. But tonight I don't leave. I change into another belly dance outfit . There is a press party upstairs at the sky bar organised by Gryphon (my venue) and they asked me to dance. I go up in the lift to the 5th floor. I'm not doing a piece from the show. I'm doing a straight forward dance รก la Galit. Fiery, cheeky and technically intricate, I impress the pants out of everyone in the room which is mainly other performers and not much media. I get a roaring applause at the end which makes up for the 'walk out' earlier.
There's a promoter sitting there with someone. I walk up to him with one of my flyers and start talking with him, a bit in character, I try to explain to him what my show is. Defining myself and what I do is still hard.
He's tough. He asks me " what are you, what do you do? where do you see yourself? what's your goal? I start mumbling a bit, "well... "I'm a good compere" there's a lot of that going on now, and I'm different to what's out there so I start with that. And he shoots back, 'where have you done compering? Cafe de Paris in London? " and I'm like "no no, I'm not there yet, just starting out really..." He's staring right at me, almost challenging me to shrink back and walk away. But I don't, I'm not the shrinking type. Instead I say to him. "What you're doing to me right now is really good. I need to be asked these questions. Ask me more, you're really helping me here." He softens a bit and says, "you have to think clearly what you are, you know like there are Drag Queens..." I cut in 'I'm like a drag queen but a belly dancer" I laugh. It's kinda true really. "You'll make a good compere, I can tell" he says "but you have to have done some stuff" I say "well, that's the thing. I'm only just starting".. "Have you heard the phrase, 'fake it till you make it' he asks. I nod, 'yes'.. he says no more. 'Thanks for that' I say and walk away. I go to sit in front the big glass wall. I'm in a bar on the fifth floor, which has a glass wall overlooking the castle and the fireworks are about to start. The promoter's words echo in my head, 'fake it till you make it', for some reason these words bring me down. 'Fake it till you make it' I try to switch on to this idea but I can't, it's soooo not me. 'Fake it till you make it' - is that really the way? 'Fake what? 'Till I make what?' .That cannot be my path. I am deep in thought. Where do I see myself. Where do I want go with this? Why am I doing this? What am I? I still don't have any answers. There are no fireworks. I'm suddenly aware of where I am, dressed up in my Belly dance outfit, in full make up, surrounded by other performers and festival participants of one kind or another, directors, writers, photographers, technicians, promoters, journalists, I don't know who's which. They are all having a drink and chatting away. I realise that with my deep in thought expression, I don't quite fit in. I feel it's time for me to leave.
I get a ride back in a taxi with 'The Harmonettes' , 3 fabulous girls who are doing a show at Gryphon venues, together with their writer/director Janys, and Simon their technician / stage manager they're all staying in a flat/house somewhere not far from me.
I'm weary, tired and I'm no longer thinking about anything. Tomorrow, is my day off - off from performing. I'm going to Glasgow in the morning to teach a workshop. I better switch on to this now. Have a break from Fringe stuff. I'll go see a show in the evening and have me a lovely day.
I take my make up off, it takes almost as long to take off as it does to put on.
It's nearly 2am...Good night.
My night off and THE REVIEW:
It's Sunday evening, I'm on the train coming back from teaching in Glasgow. The plan is to put my stuff back in my room and go to Gryphon Venues to see 'I heart Hamas' . Both out of curtsey to Jenny (the performer) and curiosity.
When I arrive, I change into something nice and in my mind I'm wondering if my review came out yet. I'd not been told anything by Gryphon and they are very good at publicising good reviews online and I'm sure that i I would have had an email from them if they got something... got something good that is. Hmmm I wonder... I should check this out. 'no no no, Galit don't do it.' - Why not? I can take it whatever it is. I must know. "Don't!" oh but I will. "OK" here it goes. I go onto the online publication broadwaybaby.com key in the name of my show on the search bar, press 'go' and................
It's official - I'm a Star!
No, literally 'A star' as in ONE star.
The review title - 'Belly Flop' . In my mind I'm hearing the theme music from 'Psycho' - the shower scene - shrieking violins playing as my hopes for a 5 star review are being brutally stabbed over and over by these 2 words. Next to the title, a photo of the reviewer, she has the same smile she had during my show and looks just as sweet and shy.
The review is far from sweet.
I only read it once. And I will NEVER read it again.
From memory, it starts off saying something about sequels not always living up to their original first shows... or something like that. Giving the false impression that this girl has actually seen the first one. Which clearly she hasn't judging by what comes next.
There's a repeated theme of how appalling my singing voice is, a continuous rant about me not being funny apart from my first 'Lord of the rings' joke, a small mention of the fact that I can dance, some more about my appalling singing, something about me waiting to be applauded, abysmal singing, then it says that my over sexualized gestures go against the points I'm trying to make about the dance being an art form, and I have way too many costume changes. Oh and did I mention the bit about my appalling singing? :)
As I said, I only read this once, so I don't remember word to word, (it's been 10 days now) but that's the general gist. You're welcome to go and read it yourself.
I breath.
I'm so... shocked I guess... I don't even know how I feel.
An armour comes up. Head and chin up, I'm about to go see a play at my venue.
I realise they know. They've not said anything to me (at my request) but they know.
Everyone must know.
The whole of Edinburgh Fringe Festival must know. I bet the whole world knows.
Oh the shame.
How am I going to go out to the street now. How am I ever going to go up on stage after this?
But out I go, first to the street. The sky doesn't fall on my head... phew!
I get to Gryphon. Aileen and Hannah at the box office greet me in the usual way, as if nothing happened. I say - "I saw it" , they know exactly what I mean and a compassionate expression appears on their faces, 'oh' they say. 'We know. But don't pay attention to it. It doesn't matter, you're getting the numbers (audience) in. One review doesn't mean anything" Bless em. x
Kekoa says the same thing.
I walk in to see 'I heart Hamas'. It's very good. It got 4 and 5 stars, I now start comparing... not good! A few more stars appeared on other shows posters and my poster suddenly seems naked - and that's not just because of the boobs on display.
I wait for Jenny to tell her how wonderful I thought she was and then leave.
I feel deflated.
I want to go home, home to Brighton.
I run the words of that scathing review over and over in my head.
I think she (the reviewer) just didn't get it, she somehow seems to have missed the point.
I could so go into victim mode here and say: "She's stupid, she's a bitch, she didn't get it (because obviously she's stupid|), she's jealous (cause she's ugly too), up tight, she's not intelligent enough to understand the subtleties of my humour. Was she paying attention? Why does she go on about my bad singing when 1. I myself claim to not be a great singer, 2. there are only 2 songs in the show and the rest is dancing. And what about 'coin operated boy'? Is that not a great dance? Or my 'Mascara' joke? Was that not funny?
Oh and there's more. I could so bask in this victimized thread of thought and easily find people to call who will support me in this.
But I don't.
I don't even cry. Not yet anyway.
I still have my thick Armour on which protects me from feeling my feelings.
I go to sleep.
Third performance:
I wake up and I remember.
I don't want to get up. I don't want to go to the Royal Mile today and I don't want to perform tonight. I want to go home.
'Come come Galit, you're made from stronger stuff than that, you're tougher than this' I give myself the kind of talk a coach might give a boxer who's been knocked out.
I get up. Make myself some coffee and check my emails. There's an email from one of my closest friends in Israel, it's short and reads: "what's up?" I'm a bit surprised to receive this as we just spoken 2 days before. But I think to myself, I could do with some love and a pep talk so I text him to call me. He promises to call in 20 minutes and that's when I start to cry, almost as if just by knowing I'm going to have someone who loves me to talk to makes it OK to let the tears come down. And besides, I tell myself I have to cry, I know better than to keep this hurt inside me. So I cry and I cry and I cry... it's ok, make up is not on yet, I cry some more. And then I breath long and deep. And the phone rings.
"I got a thrashing review" I say in a sad little girl's voice.
"I know", he says, "why do you think I emailed you? Don't pay any attention to this review, it's bullshit! Did you see how ugly this girl is [she's not really btw], she's jealous that's all". Good old Eitan, he can be so bitchy sometimes (well, he is gay). "Ask people to write an audience review. Audience reviews count much more!"
Oh, I'm thinking, good idea, all is not lost. I shall look into that. We talk for a little while longer and I'm feeling a bit better now.
I get on the computer and email Charlotte and Annie who've seen the show, send them a link to the review and ask if they could help by putting their own review in. Charlotte calls me almost immediately and gives me what I can only define as the 'pep talk' of my life. Even writing this now makes me well up. I felt so supported.
Annie writes back: ' yep, that's a real stinker, but I think you're Fabulous darling, onwards and upwards!.... Blimey, Kilt flasher in first show, I say! " Good old Annie always brings a smile to my face.
I feel more ready to face the Royal Mile and the rest of the world.
The Glasgow gang is coming to see the show tonight. It's bound to be a good night. I will bounce back from this.
I am not wrong. The show goes extremely well. The buzz created by the supportive Belly Dancers is contagious and everyone else seems relaxed (especially me), laughing out loud and applauding continuously and happily
The girls wait for me to come out and praise the show and my performance - they don't know about the review. I am so grateful for their generosity and vocal appreciation. I feel my sense of self returning.
Janys who is the writer/director of the musical play 'The Harmonettes go into orbit' tha'ts playing at Gryphon venues came to see my show with her partner and son. She's also there after the show to say how much she enjoyed the show and her partner as well, he's there shaking my hand and saying he really enjoyed it. I want to hear more feedback from her. But now is not the right time. I'm surrounded by people talking to me. She says she'll catch up with me tomorrow and that I should come see the girls' (Harmonettes) show.
I walk home alone. I'm on a high. Suddenly the fireworks start. I stop and watch. This is for me. This is all just for me.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Fourth performance:
At 5pm I go to see the Harmonettes. I run into Janys. We have a bit of time before the show starts and she asks me if I 'd like some feedback on my show from what she saw last night.
I say yes please. I know she's going to tell me the truth. I know she's going to constructively criticise me and I know she's going to be compassionate about it. And I am hungry for just that kind of feedback.
She starts "You are very good and you ARE very funny, and you have something special. But you need direction (I knew that), someone who will tighten up the performance, there are gaps in this show that shouldn't be there and you do seem to be waiting for applause or laughter which you shouldn't do. Things should be faster, and funny things closer together. You need a tight script. The material is great. It's political enough (gender ), deep enough and you show your vulnerability and that's great. You could go deeper, darker, more funny and more vulnerable. There is a one woman show in you. There is one woman play in you. You have something unique but you need other people to help you, with direction, set, and a bit of writing."
'YES! THANK YOU' I think to myself. This is exactly the type of thing I need. Someone's uninvolved, professional eye.
She read my review briefly, she was surprised the writer was a woman and was surprised I only got the one star.
That night I performed my show with a different pace.
No longer was I waiting to be applauded or my jokes to be laughed at.
Janys didn't come to see the show again but I did have a chance to speak with her some more and she gave me some advice on how to go about developing this show and myself. Look into funding. Find a co-writer or director.
She says she hopes that the review doesn't stop me from continuing my work. I say 'no, I feel almost over it now. I cried, I let it out and I'm ready to move on. I'm not 20 years old and have had years of therapy so my sense of self is quite strong and I take it perspective' I explain.
I'm not sure what she thought about what I said. We say good night. I thanked her deeply for her time and her input.
Fireworks again.
Fifth performance:
When I wake up that morning I am back to being myself again, actually not exactly myself but a slightly adjusted more 'grown up' version of myself.
My One star review now seems like something I can and should learn from. Something I should take to mind, not to heart. So I do just that.
There is a line in my show in which I say: "I am a great believer that every problem contains an opportunity" and this is true. I am. So let's see now...
What is she actually saying there?
No, I did not read it again. I didn't need to, it's amazing how negative feedback presented harshly sticks in our minds so much better than positive one.
I came to Edinburgh to test my show in the real world, to see if it works for non bellydancers. Judging by that review - it didn't. The reviewer didn't get it, and if she didn't get it, how many more people don't get it? I wanted people to 'get it'. Especially tonight as pre-bookings were only 6 which meant I was in for a quiet one.
So I made some adjustments, changed the beginning of the show a little, made it a bit more explanatory and a little more involving. I taught my audience how to zagareet, emphasized the fact my singing is not my strength (It's not that bad really.... but I guess if you're expecting a singing Diva then it could be considered...what's the word?... 'appalling'), made a comment about how any self respecting belly dancer has at least 4 costume changes in one show and being a Diva extraordinaire I'm having FIVE !! Yes, that review indeed gave me more material which made the show funnier.
The fifth show of my run was a turning point. It was the best one so far. Explaining a bit more in the beginning and doing the zagareet practice together got people into the zone and well into the show. They were laughing and cheering through out. There were only 10 of them there out of which I think only 2 were belly dancers.
The vibe and atmosphere was so good that I did the kissing song at the end. The kissing song is when I go around and kiss every member of the audience while another track is playing, I don't do this in every show.
What a show! What a night! I wished that the reviewer who thrashed me came to see the show again now. I bet now she'd feel completely different about it.
I wished that some other reviewer came to see show now but that wasn't to be. The thing about Edinburgh Fringe is that if you only have a short run (8 shows is a short run) you're not likely to get reviewed more than once, if at all. I'm actually 'lucky' (ha ha!) to have been reviewed at all. Short runs don't normally get reviewed because this means people won't get a chance to see you because you don't stay.
Sixth, seventh and eighth performances flowed smoothly and quickly. With roaring applause each time. I felt more confident yet I knew that there's a lot of work to be done once this is all over, and you know what, I couldn't wait to start working.
Oh yes. My mind has been opened, my horizons expanded, my visions got bolder and my dreams more daring.
OMG, the future seems so exciting. I can't wait to see what unfolds.
I will be back to Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Maybe not next year, but the year after. Next time I will not be going alone and I will be going for longer.
My work is starting now, the REAL work.
But first I need to give myself a little bit of time out to gain perspective, then it will be time to use all that I've learnd, to plan and find the resources for my next adventure.
Into infinity and beyooooooooooond! :)
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Friday, August 10, 2012
Baptism of Fire (part one) : Being at Edinburgh Fringe Festival
Baptism of FIRE (part one)
When people's response to my telling them I'm going to do Edinburgh Fringe Festival was a very impressed look accompanied by the word 'Wow' and a nod of respectful approval, I used to think to myself -'what are they so impressed about'? It's a 'Fringe Festival', I already did Brighton Fringe festival 3 times! That was a piece of cake. I toured both my shows up and down the country twice, that was a bit more challenging than Brighton Fringe with all the travelling etc., but still quite doable, so what's the big deal, other than a slightly longer drive. No problem. Ha ha ha....! After my first day of flyering and performing, I realized what they were on about, it dawned on me walking back from my first show, just what an undertaking this was.
I've been here now for 9 days, did 6 of my 8 shows. I'm alone here. Someone was supposed to come with me but it was my decision in the end to go alone. I thought (quite rightfully) that I will need my space and as the lady who was supposed to come along with me had a new and demanding job, not coming along worked out for her as well. Being here now, I'm grateful that I ended up booking a twin room (thinking there will be two of us), as I really literally need the space with my two boxes of costumes, make up etc.
My show is a one woman show. There are other performers here with a one person show and as the days go by and I talk to some of them I realise that 'solo person production' normally means that they do most of the stuff alone and certainly perform alone on stage but still have a publicist, or a writer, or director, or producer, or people to help do the flyering with them or for them, or someone to celebrate with after a good night or someone on whose shoulder to cry on after a bad one.
Not me.
I am really really alone here.
And 'here' is a mad, manic, colourful, wonderful, happening, stressful, noisy and non stop place. Full of people with big dreams, full of very brave people with fantastic, innovative, creative visions. Each with their own agenda, some want fame and fortune, some want to make statements and have their voices heard, some want an opportunity to make a good living doing what they do (I'm in that category) and all want to be acknowledged for their talents and there is SO MUCH talent here.
My days here seem to merge into one another, I know what the date is (just) but I no longer know what day of the week it is.
I wake up at 7:30am every day. Shower and wash my hair. Then go to have a massive protein filled hot breakfast which is my main and only hot meal of the day at the very busy breakfast room of the University halls in which I'm staying.
I pack a couple of pieces of bread to make myself a sandwich later and take apples and bananas from the breakfast room for the rest of the day and head back to my room, answer some emails, do a bit of online work, Facebook, blog, twitter (not so much twitter I admit) it's all part of it. This is the marketing & PR bit as well as keeping up with what's going on to see if there are any opportunities out there that I may be missing out on. It's also an opportunity to make connections with others which is always a good thing.
After about an hour of that. I put my make up on, and I'm talking full stage make up with false eyelashes, glitter and everything here. The eyes alone take me an hour. I do my hair, pack a bag with the costume I'll be wearing out on the street (The Royal Mile) today and leave for 'Fringe Central', the place for participants to chill out and do what they need to do out of the 'hustle bustle' of the street. At Fringe Central I change into my outfit. I decided that I'll be wearing a different outfit every day for flyering and I brought nearly all of my costumes with me for that. Off I go to the Royal Mile... The Royal Mile is a closed off street FULL of others dressed up in all sort of different costumes. Full of street performers and young people handing out flyers for theirs or their friends/colleagues shows. And there are LOADS of people, young, old, some with children some are couples, some are on their own. All (but the children) are a potential audience to my show tonight and my job is to hand them a flyer and spark up their interest so they'd want to come and see my show. With my hair, make up, glitter and amazingly sparkling costumes I don't only fit in but also stand out. And that's a great thing in a place like this. I put my bag down, cover it with my rain coat (which I carry with an umbrella just in case) take my flyers out and start calling out: "Confessions of a Belly dance diva - comedy cabaret show with belly dancing... and other dancing...." "Confessions of a Belly dance diva - comedy cabaret show about a belly dance diva extraordinaire, a goddess in her spare time.... a legend in her own lunch time" People respond to me. Many times they take a flyer from me not because they're interested but just to get a bit of a closer look at me. I don't mind, whatever gets them to take a flyer and possibly read it and come to see my show is good enough for me.
Lots of people get their phones or cameras out to take my photo. Some try to do it secretly but when I spot them I pose for them happily (I'm such a tart for the camera) then there are the 'photographers', many of them are hobbyists, amateur photographers, perhaps some of them are professionals, I don't know. They all have these big lens cameras and sometimes I pose for 2 or 3 of them at them at the same time. When this happens I add a few lines to my call: "Confessions of a Belly dance diva - Look at that, the paparazzi just won't leave me alone. "shoo shoo" - I mock shoo them to the delight of all. Half an hour into the flyering session I'm in my element shouting silly things related to my show always starting with "Confessions of a Belly dance diva - comedy cabaret show with belly dancing...." every now and then some genuinely interested people stop, I then take my time to explain to them what the show is about and what it's like. They are the people most likely to come see the show. I pose with some people. I pose with kids on my lap - I'm a big hit with little girls with all this glitter and sparkle. Every now and again I pose with other performers as well.
Sometimes a busker near me would be playing music and then I dance too.
Yesterday I asked a busker (who was playing different tunes on an accordion) if I could actually join him and perform to his playing, as he wasn't getting much attention or money - I told him that this will get the attention and possibly money which will be all his, and after that I can hand out my flyers as people will be more interested. This worked perfectly for both of us. He made some money and I got enough attention to be filmed by the BBC who was hovering around there.
An hour later, totally immersed in my Divaesque character I make a lot of noise, dance, shimmy, interact, make silly faces and pose. After 2 hours on my feet (some of the days I was in high heels too) I start feeling a bit faint and think to myself. OK I think I'm going to call it a day on the flyering front. I go back to Fringe Central and change back to my normal cloths. Every day I think to myself, yes, I'll flyer and then go see a show, then rest and go perform. In reality, after flyering there are different things were going on. One day was 'meet the media' day at Fringe Central where you pitched your show to them and hoped they'll come to review it. 3.5 hours of queuing - that's after 2 hours standing in the sun/wind/ rain (you get everything in a space of a few hours in Edinburgh).
Another day after flyering I attended a workshop for participants - "how to get your show seen by the right people" - What can I say. The longer I'm here the more I realize how much more there is to do and how impossible it is to do it alone. And when I realize that I feel a bit disheartened. I have NO IDEA how to even start finding people who would work with me and when / if I do, how would that work? I look at everyone else around me and they all seem to know how to go about getting where they want to go. They are all quite young, well, most of them are. And! They're not alone.
I go back to my room. To put my feet up. I promise myself that I'm not going to think about anything now. I'm going to put my feet up, listen to music, have an apple + Banana and some nuts (it is 4pm now) and chillax before my show at 8:25pm. I get in. Even before putting my bag down I rush over to my computer to check my emails, inquiries about my classes, and about a possible gig at the end of the month. I am soooooooo skint, I cannot afford to miss any paid work opportunity right now. Chillaxing plans are out the window. I'm answering emails. While typing, I notice that my nail varnish is all chipped and needs re-doing (every day!). I tell myself off "GALIT! you must put your feet up a bit. You have a whole hour of a very physical performance ahead of you this evening". My body's been really feeling the consequences of flyering every day and performing every night . It's a bit stiff and achy. I really do need a stretching session before going and a bit of voice warm up too. It's already 5:30pm and it takes me about 25 minutes of fast walking to get to the venue (I walk to save money on the bus - though the bus could take longer with waiting and traffic).
I make myself a cup of herbal tea and go to sit on the bed. I put one of my costume boxes on the bed for me to put my feet up onto. I lay my back against the pillows and my head against the wall and shut my eyes... and breath. Shhhh.... there.... a moment of silence inside my head.... this is nice... and then.. "What are you going to do about money"? Shhhh..... not now..... nothingness... "No but really, you have quite a few outstanding bills waiting for you at home" Shhhh PLEASE!.... "OK, I'm just saying... but ok, let's breath now...." Ahhhhh, Thank you. 5 minutes later I'm thinking 'I can do my nails while relaxing', so I do that. The fact that I have to wait for them to dry gives me another 3 minutes of rest before getting up to touch up my make up.
I'm now feeling that I wish I didn't have to perform tonight, I wish that I was going home. I recognize this feeling as being pre-show nerves. I get them EVERY DAY, not matter what. I know that it's pre-show nerves because I normally feel this way before doing a show. I feel that I don't want to do it. I wish the theatre would burn down or something and that I don't 't have to perform, or something along those lines. Of course when I get there and once I'm on stage this feeling disappears and is replaced by a feeling of being exactly where I belong and doing exactly what I was born to do. So I let this horrid childlike 'I don't want to do it' sensation pass through me and turn the volume down on it. I get up from the bed, nail varnish dry now, so no excuses!
I pack my bag for the show, making sure I don't forget my performance knickers which I bring back every night to hand wash for the next show... Yes I know it's shameful but I only have this one pair which I find to be the best one for having under costumes. I do a bit of yoga gently, in full make up and hair.... very weird experience. I stretch the bits I need to stretch and move about a bit to music as well, there isn't much room in this twin room but I do the best with what I've got. It's now 7pm I put on my recorded voice warm up session which I did with my singing teacher and do a voice warm up for 10 minutes. 7:15pm I'm kinda ready now really but there's no point getting there too soon. I can't go back stage while the show before me is going on, I have to wait until they finish and clear out. Then I have about 10 minutes to set my stage and put everything I need in place. Luckily I have a lovely technician Caitlyn, who helps me set up once she's done my lighting and sound set up. I put my costume on, last spray of glitter on body and go out there to be a Diva.
Every night is different. People are different which makes the show, although it's the same show every night, a bit different. On the 5th performance I decided to add a whole section from my previous show as well as some new script in the beginning to explain to people what this show is like. This proved to be a very good thing to do, It made a big difference for the better and got people to relax straight away. My performing career up to now consisted of performing mainly for belly dancers so it took me a few nights to figure out that a bit of an explanation is required for the general public. Now that I know, I'll keep it going the rest of the run and for good. I really am learning so much here. I will write more about the shows the performing experience and the response to my show in Part two of this blog. But now back to my day... the end of the day. I finish performing. Clear everything up in 15 minutes for the show after me and go outside. A couple of times people ( mostly it's other belly dancers) are waiting for me outside to say how much they enjoyed the show which is really lovely.
I walk back to my room in the halls. On the way I stop to watch the fireworks which are currently taking place every night for the 'Tattoo', I don't know what that is but something to do with the Military in the castle grounds. It's lovely to see the fireworks. It feels like they are for me. Feels like someone up there is saying "well done Galit". As I walk back to where I'm staying I can feel the city buzzing around me. Sometimes as I walk past other venues I toy with the idea of walking in to see a show. But I'm sooo tired, my body is aching, my feet... oh my poor feet, will they ever forgive me? So I say 'maybe tomorrow' and keep walking 'home'.
My thoughts wonder, I'm hungry now too, there are bananas and nuts waiting for me in my room. I think about my own naivety regarding coming here and smile in bemusement. Had I known what it's really like here I would never have come, certainly not on my own. But now that I'm here I'm very glad that I had no idea what it's like. Very glad indeed. I feel a sense of pride for doing this. It's the hardest thing I think I've ever done. I've never worked so hard or felt so alone - and just so you understand, I am a loner by nature, being alone is not only natural for me but a survival necessity. But even for me certain moments here are very lonely. There are a few times during the course of the day that I'm close to tears but I only let them come out in the morning before I have my make up on, once the make up is on tears are not allowed out. I am NOT re-doing my face!
The tears are not tears of sadness or despair. They are emotional tears, different emotions. Sometime lonely tears, sometime tears of pride, yes pride! Not 'Ego pride', but acknowledgement that what I'm doing is indeed hard and that I am indeed brave (though it was a fool's bravery admittedly), sometimes tears come up when I read people's beautiful & supportive words which they send to me on FB or email. I do feel very supported and loved by my friends as well as the Belly Dance community. I'm very moved by this.
Sometimes the tears are just a release. There's so much to take in and take on. It will take me a while after the Festival to digest this experience. My goodness, what a Baptism of Fire my soul has put me through. "Follow your highest excitement, it will take you where you need to be". And I did, and it sure did! But be ready, because where you need to be isn't always a 'walk in the park'. There are perks (and couple of parks here in Edinburgh too), but at times you may get a bit of 'beating' as well, which I did. I will tell more about that in part two.
I have two more shows to do. The audience seems to like me a lot. Tonight's and tomorrow night's shows are quite booked so I no longer have to worry about performing for a small audience. I'm grateful for the fact that not once did I have to perform for less than 10 people (Phew!) - My worst nightmare was a show with 2 people in the audience.
It's 10:30am right now, time to put on my make up and take Miss Bellylicious out to the Royal Mile for another mad, wonderful, exhausting, exciting, unexpected, promising and happening day in which anything can happen.
When people's response to my telling them I'm going to do Edinburgh Fringe Festival was a very impressed look accompanied by the word 'Wow' and a nod of respectful approval, I used to think to myself -'what are they so impressed about'? It's a 'Fringe Festival', I already did Brighton Fringe festival 3 times! That was a piece of cake. I toured both my shows up and down the country twice, that was a bit more challenging than Brighton Fringe with all the travelling etc., but still quite doable, so what's the big deal, other than a slightly longer drive. No problem. Ha ha ha....! After my first day of flyering and performing, I realized what they were on about, it dawned on me walking back from my first show, just what an undertaking this was.
I've been here now for 9 days, did 6 of my 8 shows. I'm alone here. Someone was supposed to come with me but it was my decision in the end to go alone. I thought (quite rightfully) that I will need my space and as the lady who was supposed to come along with me had a new and demanding job, not coming along worked out for her as well. Being here now, I'm grateful that I ended up booking a twin room (thinking there will be two of us), as I really literally need the space with my two boxes of costumes, make up etc.
My show is a one woman show. There are other performers here with a one person show and as the days go by and I talk to some of them I realise that 'solo person production' normally means that they do most of the stuff alone and certainly perform alone on stage but still have a publicist, or a writer, or director, or producer, or people to help do the flyering with them or for them, or someone to celebrate with after a good night or someone on whose shoulder to cry on after a bad one.
Not me.
I am really really alone here.
And 'here' is a mad, manic, colourful, wonderful, happening, stressful, noisy and non stop place. Full of people with big dreams, full of very brave people with fantastic, innovative, creative visions. Each with their own agenda, some want fame and fortune, some want to make statements and have their voices heard, some want an opportunity to make a good living doing what they do (I'm in that category) and all want to be acknowledged for their talents and there is SO MUCH talent here.
My days here seem to merge into one another, I know what the date is (just) but I no longer know what day of the week it is.
I wake up at 7:30am every day. Shower and wash my hair. Then go to have a massive protein filled hot breakfast which is my main and only hot meal of the day at the very busy breakfast room of the University halls in which I'm staying.
I pack a couple of pieces of bread to make myself a sandwich later and take apples and bananas from the breakfast room for the rest of the day and head back to my room, answer some emails, do a bit of online work, Facebook, blog, twitter (not so much twitter I admit) it's all part of it. This is the marketing & PR bit as well as keeping up with what's going on to see if there are any opportunities out there that I may be missing out on. It's also an opportunity to make connections with others which is always a good thing.
After about an hour of that. I put my make up on, and I'm talking full stage make up with false eyelashes, glitter and everything here. The eyes alone take me an hour. I do my hair, pack a bag with the costume I'll be wearing out on the street (The Royal Mile) today and leave for 'Fringe Central', the place for participants to chill out and do what they need to do out of the 'hustle bustle' of the street. At Fringe Central I change into my outfit. I decided that I'll be wearing a different outfit every day for flyering and I brought nearly all of my costumes with me for that. Off I go to the Royal Mile... The Royal Mile is a closed off street FULL of others dressed up in all sort of different costumes. Full of street performers and young people handing out flyers for theirs or their friends/colleagues shows. And there are LOADS of people, young, old, some with children some are couples, some are on their own. All (but the children) are a potential audience to my show tonight and my job is to hand them a flyer and spark up their interest so they'd want to come and see my show. With my hair, make up, glitter and amazingly sparkling costumes I don't only fit in but also stand out. And that's a great thing in a place like this. I put my bag down, cover it with my rain coat (which I carry with an umbrella just in case) take my flyers out and start calling out: "Confessions of a Belly dance diva - comedy cabaret show with belly dancing... and other dancing...." "Confessions of a Belly dance diva - comedy cabaret show about a belly dance diva extraordinaire, a goddess in her spare time.... a legend in her own lunch time" People respond to me. Many times they take a flyer from me not because they're interested but just to get a bit of a closer look at me. I don't mind, whatever gets them to take a flyer and possibly read it and come to see my show is good enough for me.
Lots of people get their phones or cameras out to take my photo. Some try to do it secretly but when I spot them I pose for them happily (I'm such a tart for the camera) then there are the 'photographers', many of them are hobbyists, amateur photographers, perhaps some of them are professionals, I don't know. They all have these big lens cameras and sometimes I pose for 2 or 3 of them at them at the same time. When this happens I add a few lines to my call: "Confessions of a Belly dance diva - Look at that, the paparazzi just won't leave me alone. "shoo shoo" - I mock shoo them to the delight of all. Half an hour into the flyering session I'm in my element shouting silly things related to my show always starting with "Confessions of a Belly dance diva - comedy cabaret show with belly dancing...." every now and then some genuinely interested people stop, I then take my time to explain to them what the show is about and what it's like. They are the people most likely to come see the show. I pose with some people. I pose with kids on my lap - I'm a big hit with little girls with all this glitter and sparkle. Every now and again I pose with other performers as well.
Sometimes a busker near me would be playing music and then I dance too.
Yesterday I asked a busker (who was playing different tunes on an accordion) if I could actually join him and perform to his playing, as he wasn't getting much attention or money - I told him that this will get the attention and possibly money which will be all his, and after that I can hand out my flyers as people will be more interested. This worked perfectly for both of us. He made some money and I got enough attention to be filmed by the BBC who was hovering around there.
An hour later, totally immersed in my Divaesque character I make a lot of noise, dance, shimmy, interact, make silly faces and pose. After 2 hours on my feet (some of the days I was in high heels too) I start feeling a bit faint and think to myself. OK I think I'm going to call it a day on the flyering front. I go back to Fringe Central and change back to my normal cloths. Every day I think to myself, yes, I'll flyer and then go see a show, then rest and go perform. In reality, after flyering there are different things were going on. One day was 'meet the media' day at Fringe Central where you pitched your show to them and hoped they'll come to review it. 3.5 hours of queuing - that's after 2 hours standing in the sun/wind/ rain (you get everything in a space of a few hours in Edinburgh).
Another day after flyering I attended a workshop for participants - "how to get your show seen by the right people" - What can I say. The longer I'm here the more I realize how much more there is to do and how impossible it is to do it alone. And when I realize that I feel a bit disheartened. I have NO IDEA how to even start finding people who would work with me and when / if I do, how would that work? I look at everyone else around me and they all seem to know how to go about getting where they want to go. They are all quite young, well, most of them are. And! They're not alone.
I go back to my room. To put my feet up. I promise myself that I'm not going to think about anything now. I'm going to put my feet up, listen to music, have an apple + Banana and some nuts (it is 4pm now) and chillax before my show at 8:25pm. I get in. Even before putting my bag down I rush over to my computer to check my emails, inquiries about my classes, and about a possible gig at the end of the month. I am soooooooo skint, I cannot afford to miss any paid work opportunity right now. Chillaxing plans are out the window. I'm answering emails. While typing, I notice that my nail varnish is all chipped and needs re-doing (every day!). I tell myself off "GALIT! you must put your feet up a bit. You have a whole hour of a very physical performance ahead of you this evening". My body's been really feeling the consequences of flyering every day and performing every night . It's a bit stiff and achy. I really do need a stretching session before going and a bit of voice warm up too. It's already 5:30pm and it takes me about 25 minutes of fast walking to get to the venue (I walk to save money on the bus - though the bus could take longer with waiting and traffic).
I make myself a cup of herbal tea and go to sit on the bed. I put one of my costume boxes on the bed for me to put my feet up onto. I lay my back against the pillows and my head against the wall and shut my eyes... and breath. Shhhh.... there.... a moment of silence inside my head.... this is nice... and then.. "What are you going to do about money"? Shhhh..... not now..... nothingness... "No but really, you have quite a few outstanding bills waiting for you at home" Shhhh PLEASE!.... "OK, I'm just saying... but ok, let's breath now...." Ahhhhh, Thank you. 5 minutes later I'm thinking 'I can do my nails while relaxing', so I do that. The fact that I have to wait for them to dry gives me another 3 minutes of rest before getting up to touch up my make up.
I'm now feeling that I wish I didn't have to perform tonight, I wish that I was going home. I recognize this feeling as being pre-show nerves. I get them EVERY DAY, not matter what. I know that it's pre-show nerves because I normally feel this way before doing a show. I feel that I don't want to do it. I wish the theatre would burn down or something and that I don't 't have to perform, or something along those lines. Of course when I get there and once I'm on stage this feeling disappears and is replaced by a feeling of being exactly where I belong and doing exactly what I was born to do. So I let this horrid childlike 'I don't want to do it' sensation pass through me and turn the volume down on it. I get up from the bed, nail varnish dry now, so no excuses!
I pack my bag for the show, making sure I don't forget my performance knickers which I bring back every night to hand wash for the next show... Yes I know it's shameful but I only have this one pair which I find to be the best one for having under costumes. I do a bit of yoga gently, in full make up and hair.... very weird experience. I stretch the bits I need to stretch and move about a bit to music as well, there isn't much room in this twin room but I do the best with what I've got. It's now 7pm I put on my recorded voice warm up session which I did with my singing teacher and do a voice warm up for 10 minutes. 7:15pm I'm kinda ready now really but there's no point getting there too soon. I can't go back stage while the show before me is going on, I have to wait until they finish and clear out. Then I have about 10 minutes to set my stage and put everything I need in place. Luckily I have a lovely technician Caitlyn, who helps me set up once she's done my lighting and sound set up. I put my costume on, last spray of glitter on body and go out there to be a Diva.
Every night is different. People are different which makes the show, although it's the same show every night, a bit different. On the 5th performance I decided to add a whole section from my previous show as well as some new script in the beginning to explain to people what this show is like. This proved to be a very good thing to do, It made a big difference for the better and got people to relax straight away. My performing career up to now consisted of performing mainly for belly dancers so it took me a few nights to figure out that a bit of an explanation is required for the general public. Now that I know, I'll keep it going the rest of the run and for good. I really am learning so much here. I will write more about the shows the performing experience and the response to my show in Part two of this blog. But now back to my day... the end of the day. I finish performing. Clear everything up in 15 minutes for the show after me and go outside. A couple of times people ( mostly it's other belly dancers) are waiting for me outside to say how much they enjoyed the show which is really lovely.
I walk back to my room in the halls. On the way I stop to watch the fireworks which are currently taking place every night for the 'Tattoo', I don't know what that is but something to do with the Military in the castle grounds. It's lovely to see the fireworks. It feels like they are for me. Feels like someone up there is saying "well done Galit". As I walk back to where I'm staying I can feel the city buzzing around me. Sometimes as I walk past other venues I toy with the idea of walking in to see a show. But I'm sooo tired, my body is aching, my feet... oh my poor feet, will they ever forgive me? So I say 'maybe tomorrow' and keep walking 'home'.
My thoughts wonder, I'm hungry now too, there are bananas and nuts waiting for me in my room. I think about my own naivety regarding coming here and smile in bemusement. Had I known what it's really like here I would never have come, certainly not on my own. But now that I'm here I'm very glad that I had no idea what it's like. Very glad indeed. I feel a sense of pride for doing this. It's the hardest thing I think I've ever done. I've never worked so hard or felt so alone - and just so you understand, I am a loner by nature, being alone is not only natural for me but a survival necessity. But even for me certain moments here are very lonely. There are a few times during the course of the day that I'm close to tears but I only let them come out in the morning before I have my make up on, once the make up is on tears are not allowed out. I am NOT re-doing my face!
The tears are not tears of sadness or despair. They are emotional tears, different emotions. Sometime lonely tears, sometime tears of pride, yes pride! Not 'Ego pride', but acknowledgement that what I'm doing is indeed hard and that I am indeed brave (though it was a fool's bravery admittedly), sometimes tears come up when I read people's beautiful & supportive words which they send to me on FB or email. I do feel very supported and loved by my friends as well as the Belly Dance community. I'm very moved by this.
Sometimes the tears are just a release. There's so much to take in and take on. It will take me a while after the Festival to digest this experience. My goodness, what a Baptism of Fire my soul has put me through. "Follow your highest excitement, it will take you where you need to be". And I did, and it sure did! But be ready, because where you need to be isn't always a 'walk in the park'. There are perks (and couple of parks here in Edinburgh too), but at times you may get a bit of 'beating' as well, which I did. I will tell more about that in part two.
I have two more shows to do. The audience seems to like me a lot. Tonight's and tomorrow night's shows are quite booked so I no longer have to worry about performing for a small audience. I'm grateful for the fact that not once did I have to perform for less than 10 people (Phew!) - My worst nightmare was a show with 2 people in the audience.
It's 10:30am right now, time to put on my make up and take Miss Bellylicious out to the Royal Mile for another mad, wonderful, exhausting, exciting, unexpected, promising and happening day in which anything can happen.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
First Edinburgh Fringe performance
Due to busy-ness and lack of time to write and post as and when things happen I'm posting here when I can. So I will date my posts according to when what I'm writing about happened.
Edinburgh 3rd of August 2012
First Edinburgh Fringe performance.
I wasn't as nervous as I'd expected to be. I'm not sure why that was. Maybe because I'd been flyering on the street all day in full costume and make up and that in itself felt like I was performing already. Maybe it was the anti anxiety homeopathic remedy I'd been taking or the Yoga I did an hour before. I don't know... I was quite nervous but not as much as I thought I'd be, not to the point of shaking hands which often happens in the first few minutes of the show, apparently not just to me,( funny how you always think that you're the only one).
It was a small and quiet crowd. Small audience is usually quiet and harder to perform to. There isn't as much energy in the room. You know, it does make a difference. More people means more energy, and the energy circulates from audience to performer back to audience, and when the energy is high it's a wonderful experience.
Tonight there were only 10 people in the 80 seat theatre. 4 of them were men, which isn't bad considering that in the past I performed for an audience of 60 with only 3 of them being men, so 4 out of 10 was a nice balance.
There were 2 ladies I know sitting in the front row. Next to them (when I say 'next' I mean with the traditional one chair gap that people take when sitting in the same row with people they don't know) sat a man, long hair tied back in a pony tail, well groomed moustache (I know this is a line from my other show, but he really did have a well groomed moustache!). I don't remember exactly at what point it happened but it was during my opening number. The man in the front row, settled more comfortably into his chair and let his knees part in the usual man like relaxed sitting manner, only this man was wearing a kilt... and nothing underneath it!
One often hears jokes and stories about what is - or more like isn't - underneath a Scottsman kilts, but one does not expect to be shown during one's opening number on the opening night one's Edinburgh Fringe show. As if one wasn't nervous enough! But did 'one' flinch or bat an eye lid?! Oh no, one didn't!!
I was considering saying something to him out loud, like to 'put it away' or something like that but then I thought to myself, I'm not going to make this show about him! This show is about ME and that's the way it's going to stay, me me me!! I am Miss Bellylicious Belly dance diva extraordinary, certainly not thrown by some man and his.. 'Willie' , and I call it that, because it was pretty unimpressive I'm disappointed to say. I was thinking if you're gonna show your crown jewels to a Diva at least have something worth showing, this certainly wasn't. I was also quit offended to find that it remained quite.... mmmm... what's a good word to use here... limp. It didn't grow, it didn't move, definitely didn't appear to stand to attention! It was only after the front of house guys told me this man was very drunk that I didn't take it personally.
The rest of the audience obviously didn't have a clue what was going on. I was quite pleased with myself for carrying on as if nothing happened and really after the initial surprise (yes, not even 'shock' just surprise) I blanked it and just did my thing.
The show had a good flow, I felt on good form and people, though quite, seemed to enjoy themselves. No one walked out :)
After the show I rushed to catch a one man show called 'Believe' by Shane Dundas who is one of the Umbilical Brothers. I was interested in this because it was advertised as comedy /physical theatre show. It was much better promoted than mine and appeared to have good marketing with massive posters advertising it and the venue was very central and one of the main Fringe venues. It was a good show, not as much physical theatre as I though there would be but still good.
There were only about 15 people in the audience and that made me feel a bit relieved about the turnout to my show. I was thinking, if this guy who's obviously more widely known than me only gets 15 on his 2nd night (it was his 2nd night) then I'm doing OK.
It was home for me after that. I was so tired, it was late and tomorrow was another early start. I came 'home' to my room at the university halls (nice place, great breakfast!) took off my make up and went to bed. Glitter still in hair (hey, I'll need it tomorrow). Man in 'boxerless kilt' now only a hazy memory of some anecdote which I will probably use in a future show. Thank God for quirky experiences.
(BTW it is 8am on the 6th of August right now - I don't know how to set the time to be right for this on this blog - if you do can you please tell me)
Edinburgh 3rd of August 2012
First Edinburgh Fringe performance.
I wasn't as nervous as I'd expected to be. I'm not sure why that was. Maybe because I'd been flyering on the street all day in full costume and make up and that in itself felt like I was performing already. Maybe it was the anti anxiety homeopathic remedy I'd been taking or the Yoga I did an hour before. I don't know... I was quite nervous but not as much as I thought I'd be, not to the point of shaking hands which often happens in the first few minutes of the show, apparently not just to me,( funny how you always think that you're the only one).
It was a small and quiet crowd. Small audience is usually quiet and harder to perform to. There isn't as much energy in the room. You know, it does make a difference. More people means more energy, and the energy circulates from audience to performer back to audience, and when the energy is high it's a wonderful experience.
Tonight there were only 10 people in the 80 seat theatre. 4 of them were men, which isn't bad considering that in the past I performed for an audience of 60 with only 3 of them being men, so 4 out of 10 was a nice balance.
There were 2 ladies I know sitting in the front row. Next to them (when I say 'next' I mean with the traditional one chair gap that people take when sitting in the same row with people they don't know) sat a man, long hair tied back in a pony tail, well groomed moustache (I know this is a line from my other show, but he really did have a well groomed moustache!). I don't remember exactly at what point it happened but it was during my opening number. The man in the front row, settled more comfortably into his chair and let his knees part in the usual man like relaxed sitting manner, only this man was wearing a kilt... and nothing underneath it!
One often hears jokes and stories about what is - or more like isn't - underneath a Scottsman kilts, but one does not expect to be shown during one's opening number on the opening night one's Edinburgh Fringe show. As if one wasn't nervous enough! But did 'one' flinch or bat an eye lid?! Oh no, one didn't!!
I was considering saying something to him out loud, like to 'put it away' or something like that but then I thought to myself, I'm not going to make this show about him! This show is about ME and that's the way it's going to stay, me me me!! I am Miss Bellylicious Belly dance diva extraordinary, certainly not thrown by some man and his.. 'Willie' , and I call it that, because it was pretty unimpressive I'm disappointed to say. I was thinking if you're gonna show your crown jewels to a Diva at least have something worth showing, this certainly wasn't. I was also quit offended to find that it remained quite.... mmmm... what's a good word to use here... limp. It didn't grow, it didn't move, definitely didn't appear to stand to attention! It was only after the front of house guys told me this man was very drunk that I didn't take it personally.
The rest of the audience obviously didn't have a clue what was going on. I was quite pleased with myself for carrying on as if nothing happened and really after the initial surprise (yes, not even 'shock' just surprise) I blanked it and just did my thing.
The show had a good flow, I felt on good form and people, though quite, seemed to enjoy themselves. No one walked out :)
After the show I rushed to catch a one man show called 'Believe' by Shane Dundas who is one of the Umbilical Brothers. I was interested in this because it was advertised as comedy /physical theatre show. It was much better promoted than mine and appeared to have good marketing with massive posters advertising it and the venue was very central and one of the main Fringe venues. It was a good show, not as much physical theatre as I though there would be but still good.
There were only about 15 people in the audience and that made me feel a bit relieved about the turnout to my show. I was thinking, if this guy who's obviously more widely known than me only gets 15 on his 2nd night (it was his 2nd night) then I'm doing OK.
It was home for me after that. I was so tired, it was late and tomorrow was another early start. I came 'home' to my room at the university halls (nice place, great breakfast!) took off my make up and went to bed. Glitter still in hair (hey, I'll need it tomorrow). Man in 'boxerless kilt' now only a hazy memory of some anecdote which I will probably use in a future show. Thank God for quirky experiences.
(BTW it is 8am on the 6th of August right now - I don't know how to set the time to be right for this on this blog - if you do can you please tell me)
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