It is useless to try and reason a man out of something he wasn't reasoned into
Johnathan Swift
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
A thought for the day
Tuesday, 29 December 2009
Five lessons (large & small) from 2010
Theatre in London is hard, hard, hard
Achieving decent houses over a long run means attracting a mix of price-sensitive local regulars and brand-sensitive one-off touristsConfusing art and craft is deadly for anyone involved in a creative pursuit
Comics beware: craft is more about application than inspiration. You may know what you want to say right now but do you know how to say that thing in a way that works for the paying audience who only turned up to laugh?Improv is a pastime
Treat it as a sideline project and you're free to fly. Treat it like a job and you'll never get a mortgageAway from the world of finance, business hasn't changed all that much
Clients have much the same needs as two years ago, they're just a little more cost-sensitive and a lot more time-sensitive. They're also more risk-averse so having a prominent and trusted brand helpsCollaborations are fantastic, partnerships are dangerous
This year I've worked with wonderful and creative people on projects that have made me truly proud. At the end of each it's been great to part without making open-ended promises
Monday, 28 December 2009
Due diligence
If 2009 was The Year of Playing Nicely with Others then 2010 is shaping up as The Year of Due Diligence.
I am looking down the barrel at a couple of hugely expensive undertakings that will test to the limit my usually comfortable financial buffer. As this buffer shrinks my psychic need for due diligence expands.
Whereas I am normally happy with my travel agent's best price on, say, a flight to the US, now I need to be 100% sure that there isn't a better deal out there somewhere. In practice this means additional hours online and on the phone. Those hours have to come from somewhere and so I'm calling a twelve-month halt to all but the least time-consuming of my creative pursuits.
Of course I'm aware that most of these efforts will be in vain and that the travel agent will have had the best deal all along.
I'm reminded of a marketing research project I undertook for a major Australian supermarket chain about twenty years ago. I conducted well over a hundred in-depth interviews with women who shopped at the budget chain to understand how we could improve their grocery-buying experience. The short answer was that we couldn't. Our client's stores were dusty and cramped and not that much cheaper than their more salubrious competitors but that was the point. Shopping there felt like work. It felt like work because it was work. Shopping there let these women feel that they were doing their bit for the family. If they couldn't be earning money then the least they could do was to spend it begrudgingly.
I am looking down the barrel at a couple of hugely expensive undertakings that will test to the limit my usually comfortable financial buffer. As this buffer shrinks my psychic need for due diligence expands.
Whereas I am normally happy with my travel agent's best price on, say, a flight to the US, now I need to be 100% sure that there isn't a better deal out there somewhere. In practice this means additional hours online and on the phone. Those hours have to come from somewhere and so I'm calling a twelve-month halt to all but the least time-consuming of my creative pursuits.
Of course I'm aware that most of these efforts will be in vain and that the travel agent will have had the best deal all along.
I'm reminded of a marketing research project I undertook for a major Australian supermarket chain about twenty years ago. I conducted well over a hundred in-depth interviews with women who shopped at the budget chain to understand how we could improve their grocery-buying experience. The short answer was that we couldn't. Our client's stores were dusty and cramped and not that much cheaper than their more salubrious competitors but that was the point. Shopping there felt like work. It felt like work because it was work. Shopping there let these women feel that they were doing their bit for the family. If they couldn't be earning money then the least they could do was to spend it begrudgingly.
Effort = ContributionLike I said, the need is essentially psychic. But when the bills are large and unavoidable then due diligence is all that's left.
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
Monday, 21 December 2009
The limitations of the form
The final Scenes from Communal Living was a massive success. We had a full theatre and the huge cast (9 performers) put on a wild and crazy show that left everyone on an absolute high.
As is the way with these things the late night drinking turned into an unabashed mutual admiration session. And as is my way I spent most of the time dispensing unsolicited career advice. Mostly I told anyone who would listen to get free of improv as soon as possible.
Don't get me wrong: I love improv. In 1989 I was taken (dragged) to Belvoir Street Theatre in Sydney to see Theatresports and my life changed forever. Twenty years on it is the only form of comedy I know I do well.
Improv comedy makes you clever and quick. It sharpens your comic timing and gives you an innate sense of exactly what the audience wants to see and hear. It teaches you to tell stories with beginnings, middles and endings. Great improv is a joy to watch and an even greater joy to perform.
But by its nature it is not written down and therein lies the rub if you want a career that includes the lucrative avenues of radio, TV and film. With a few especially formulaic exceptions like panel shows and Whose Line is it Anyway? the electronic media needs to see a script before it can produce comedy. Sets, props, costumes, sound effects, music and CGI cannot be specced, costed or sourced without a pre-agreed script.
By the time this pretty obvious bombshell dropped on me I was about five years into my comedy career in Sydney. I was regularly performing, making money and constantly being told that improv was as legitimate a comedic form as stand-up or sketch comedy. This was true only until TV and radio came knocking. When they did I had no capacity to actually write comedy and opportunity passed me by. I was pigeonholed as 'just an improviser' forever after until I moved to the UK and reinvented myself as a stand-up.
Many of my (ex-)cast are already on the radar of British TV and radio. On stage they shine but I hope they realise that won't be enough.
In some strange way Scenes from Communal Living is my little dedication to the comedy I love most. My advice to all improvisers is to remember that it's the one form of comedy that you should only ever do for love.
As is the way with these things the late night drinking turned into an unabashed mutual admiration session. And as is my way I spent most of the time dispensing unsolicited career advice. Mostly I told anyone who would listen to get free of improv as soon as possible.
Don't get me wrong: I love improv. In 1989 I was taken (dragged) to Belvoir Street Theatre in Sydney to see Theatresports and my life changed forever. Twenty years on it is the only form of comedy I know I do well.
Improv comedy makes you clever and quick. It sharpens your comic timing and gives you an innate sense of exactly what the audience wants to see and hear. It teaches you to tell stories with beginnings, middles and endings. Great improv is a joy to watch and an even greater joy to perform.
But by its nature it is not written down and therein lies the rub if you want a career that includes the lucrative avenues of radio, TV and film. With a few especially formulaic exceptions like panel shows and Whose Line is it Anyway? the electronic media needs to see a script before it can produce comedy. Sets, props, costumes, sound effects, music and CGI cannot be specced, costed or sourced without a pre-agreed script.
By the time this pretty obvious bombshell dropped on me I was about five years into my comedy career in Sydney. I was regularly performing, making money and constantly being told that improv was as legitimate a comedic form as stand-up or sketch comedy. This was true only until TV and radio came knocking. When they did I had no capacity to actually write comedy and opportunity passed me by. I was pigeonholed as 'just an improviser' forever after until I moved to the UK and reinvented myself as a stand-up.
Many of my (ex-)cast are already on the radar of British TV and radio. On stage they shine but I hope they realise that won't be enough.
In some strange way Scenes from Communal Living is my little dedication to the comedy I love most. My advice to all improvisers is to remember that it's the one form of comedy that you should only ever do for love.
Saturday, 19 December 2009
Willfully unhelpful
This Sunday night is the 60th UK performance of Scenes from Communal Living. We've made a lot of people laugh and I'd like to think that the show will be a useful stepping stone in the careers of our young and talented cast.
34 of those 60 shows were at the same little theatre in Camden. At 4pm yesterday (Friday) I received a curt email saying that as the theatre was closing for Christmas immediately after our show we had to bump out our entire production that same night. That left me with the last hour of the business week to arrange transport for the set. We were their biggest customer in 2009 and the relationship ended with what amounted to a notice of eviction.
Once I'd made the necessary arrangements I did something that I rarely do: I rang to complain. I was duly referred to the relevant clause in the contract signed back in June and that was that.
No best wishes. No thank you. No pleasantries whatsoever.
I wasn't surprised. There was always a sense that the people who ran the theater had absolutely no enthusiasm for our project. Maybe they don't like improv or comedy or maybe they just didn't like me as a person. Their approach was always willfully unhelpful. Sunday night may not be the final staging of Scenes from Communal Living in London but it's certainly the last one at that theatre.
Here's hoping that our last show is good enough to wash this taste from my mouth.
34 of those 60 shows were at the same little theatre in Camden. At 4pm yesterday (Friday) I received a curt email saying that as the theatre was closing for Christmas immediately after our show we had to bump out our entire production that same night. That left me with the last hour of the business week to arrange transport for the set. We were their biggest customer in 2009 and the relationship ended with what amounted to a notice of eviction.
Once I'd made the necessary arrangements I did something that I rarely do: I rang to complain. I was duly referred to the relevant clause in the contract signed back in June and that was that.
No best wishes. No thank you. No pleasantries whatsoever.
I wasn't surprised. There was always a sense that the people who ran the theater had absolutely no enthusiasm for our project. Maybe they don't like improv or comedy or maybe they just didn't like me as a person. Their approach was always willfully unhelpful. Sunday night may not be the final staging of Scenes from Communal Living in London but it's certainly the last one at that theatre.
Here's hoping that our last show is good enough to wash this taste from my mouth.
Friday, 18 December 2009
Institutionalised freelancing
Pretty much everything written about self-employment and freelancing (including these notes) operates on an implicit assumption that working for oneself is a brave and noble calling: to strike out on one's own is to reject the status quo and follow in the footsteps of giants like Henry Ford, Steve Jobs and Bill Gates.
Last night I caught up with a very successful London barrister. By definition he is self-employed, albeit in a partnership within his chambers. There's nothing remarkable about this as every barrister in Great Britain is a freelancer and yet his working world is governed by the same unstated laws as mine: -
Last night I caught up with a very successful London barrister. By definition he is self-employed, albeit in a partnership within his chambers. There's nothing remarkable about this as every barrister in Great Britain is a freelancer and yet his working world is governed by the same unstated laws as mine: -
The client needs the job done more than she needs you to do it. To be unavailable for whatever reason is to elevate a competitor at your own expenseThis is how the British Bar has operated for hundreds of years. There is nothing brave or noble about it, it's just what the world looks like if you want to be a barrister.
Thursday, 17 December 2009
Almost as good as being there
Another night, another stand-up gig in a brand new comedy 'club' miles from London.
It's worth pointing out that a British comedy 'club' is unlikely to be a purpose-built room with stage, microphone, dedicated spotlight and chairs all pointed in the same direction. It isn't even necessarily a bar that stages comedy every night of the week; a club is usually best thought of as 'an occasional night of comedy'.
That was certainly the case last night at the far end of the M4. To kick off the 'comedy club' idea the venue had linked up with the entirely laudable Help for Heroes charity so the room was full-to-overflowing with 300 or so punters. So far so good. Except that the stage was positioned directly opposite two massive pillars which effectively split the audience. It was only lit by swirling, multicoloured disco lighting.
The landlord's sense that his bar wasn't exactly screaming 'comedy' was what doubtless led to him screening captioned clips of televised stand-up on the absolutely massive video wall above the bar. So the audience had a choice between listening to my routine delivered live from the disco stage or reading (admittedly better) Adam Hills' jokes off the massive screen.
And so ends my stand-up year.
It's worth pointing out that a British comedy 'club' is unlikely to be a purpose-built room with stage, microphone, dedicated spotlight and chairs all pointed in the same direction. It isn't even necessarily a bar that stages comedy every night of the week; a club is usually best thought of as 'an occasional night of comedy'.
That was certainly the case last night at the far end of the M4. To kick off the 'comedy club' idea the venue had linked up with the entirely laudable Help for Heroes charity so the room was full-to-overflowing with 300 or so punters. So far so good. Except that the stage was positioned directly opposite two massive pillars which effectively split the audience. It was only lit by swirling, multicoloured disco lighting.
The landlord's sense that his bar wasn't exactly screaming 'comedy' was what doubtless led to him screening captioned clips of televised stand-up on the absolutely massive video wall above the bar. So the audience had a choice between listening to my routine delivered live from the disco stage or reading (admittedly better) Adam Hills' jokes off the massive screen.
And so ends my stand-up year.
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
Walking the talk
A strange confluence of unplanned (but hardly unsurprising) absences led me to actually joining the Scenes from Communal Living cast for our penultimate show last Sunday. The goal was to 'not suck' and I achieved that much.
And now I know for sure why my cast so loves the show.
And now I know for sure why my cast so loves the show.
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
A thought for the day
No city is so mundane that it cannot be enjoyed for a weekend. No airport is so wonderful that it does not pall after 90 minutes.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
A servant of two masters
I've mentioned previously that I sit on the board of a West London charity that has provided numeracy, literacy and IT education to adults in the area for over 25 years. More recently we've started offering Information, Advice & Guidance (IAG) and Jobsearch services. Given our success as providers of job skills it seemed like a natural fit: -
The focus-on-the-individual ethos that served us so well as an educational provider since 1983 is far less suited to the throughput-driven IAG sector. Especially as IAG funding comes with a much more rigorous benchmark than we're used to: does the client have a job?
To maintain funding for our educational operation we've been forced to link courses directly to IAG. Whereas previously our IT training was open to anyone who walked through our door, nowadays it must be attached to the job market. So our ability to help, say, a mother who doesn't need paid work but rather just wants the IT skills to email her family in Somalia, has diminished to almost zero.
Our passionate, hardworking staff are servants of two masters. As indicated by sick leave and absenteeism amongst our volunteers, the stress levels are now worryingly high. We'll keep fighting to maintain our ability to serve our real customers, the people who walk through the door but too often this puts us in conflict with those who write the cheques.
I worry for our future.
Not only will we get your ready for work, we'll take you to the next step and actually help you find that jobWe were (strongly) encouraged to expand in this way by the various funding bodies that pay our bills and for a while we thought we congratulated ourselves on achieving a happy balance between education and IAG. Alas, charitable funding is as much beset by the vagaries of fashion as any sector I've ever encountered and IAG is the flavour of the moment.
The focus-on-the-individual ethos that served us so well as an educational provider since 1983 is far less suited to the throughput-driven IAG sector. Especially as IAG funding comes with a much more rigorous benchmark than we're used to: does the client have a job?
To maintain funding for our educational operation we've been forced to link courses directly to IAG. Whereas previously our IT training was open to anyone who walked through our door, nowadays it must be attached to the job market. So our ability to help, say, a mother who doesn't need paid work but rather just wants the IT skills to email her family in Somalia, has diminished to almost zero.
Our passionate, hardworking staff are servants of two masters. As indicated by sick leave and absenteeism amongst our volunteers, the stress levels are now worryingly high. We'll keep fighting to maintain our ability to serve our real customers, the people who walk through the door but too often this puts us in conflict with those who write the cheques.
I worry for our future.
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