An open letter to voters in the EU Referendum

Dearest voters,

Most of you don’t know me, which makes this whole letter scenario rather odd on all accounts, but I will persevere nonetheless.

As the 23rd of June looms on the horizon and everyone who is registered will be asked to vote for the UK to either stay in the European Union or to leave it, I thought I would write to you.

The European Union was forged out of the destruction of the First and Second World Wars in the interest of peace, unity and economic prosperity. It is these underlying principles which you seek to protect by voting remain.

At the Brexit camp, many people will be telling you that to leave the EU is to safeguard the British spirit and identity; I would argue to the contrary. You only have to look at British Propaganda Posters from World War Two, to see what British values emerge as fundamental in times of crisis:

Source: www.businessinsider.com

For me, dear voters, these posters don’t speak of running and hiding when the going gets tough, but rather more a spirit of pulling together and staying put even in the face of hardship.

The Art of Procrastination

Hello, my thousands of blogglers (that is, those who ogle at blogs, i.e. you are currently in the process of ogling my blog, you are therefore a bloggler). Isn’t it fun when I make up words? I’m like Shakespeare in that respect.

As you can probably tell by my not-so-subtle featured image là-bas, I have decided to write a proper play, like a proper writer (as you can probably deduce, I am also shoving my Twitter account in all of your faces, in the most literal sense of the phrase. I have no shame) Look, Twitter is a scary place, so follow me if you’re lost…So, now that I’ve lost the intolerant half of my already depleted readership;

I’M WRITING A PLAY, MOTHERFLIPPERS. 

That’s right. A play. It’s going to be really long. It’ll have words, characters and you will be able to print it out and hold it to your face because it’s still warm from the printer. I’m looking forward to that moment.

And I’m not going to cop out and say something like ‘Yeah, I always envisaged it as a shorter piece’, or ‘I wanted to leave my audience with a sense of emptiness, like they had been really cheated out of the second act. It’s really visceral, actually?’

So far, I have written a one-act play ‘Broken Record (Repeat to Fade)’ mm yeah loving those parentheses, a monologue and a 15 minute piece called ‘G’. Because one-letter titles are so indie, yeah? Oh, and about 7 ground-breaking blogposts. So now it’s time for something mega. My plan is to openly declare that I am going to do this on the Internet, in order to move it from being a decision, to an obligation. It’s self-inflicted negative reinforcement. If I don’t write this play, I face the humiliating experience of disappointing all three of my followers. And that’s even worse considering they’re all my close family members.

I thought it might be fun to share with you some of the things I do in order to procrastinate, and avoid writing at all costs. Any combative strategies would be greatly appreciated:

1. Sometimes I take all my make-up off and then re-do it as if I’m going to a ball. I then proceed stare at my reflection in the mirror and pull faces. It’s a very intricate and multi-layered process.

2. I sing to my cat. I like to time these serenades carefully with when he’s hungry and miaowing at me, so it’s like we’re doing a duet. That makes the procrastination ever more satisfying.

3. I catch up on ‘The Good Wife’. By this I mean; I binge-watch an entire series and then spend the rest of the day pretending to be Alicia Florrick.

4. I eat. Many, many food.

5. Go on Pinterest and then realise, 4 hours later, that I have wasted my entire day looking at vintage door-knobs.

‘But time spent looking at vintage door-knobs is never time wasted!’ I hear the Vintage Door-Knob and Accessory Association Ltd. cry in one deranged voice.

For the record, you may have already realised that, yes, blogging about procrastination is indeed a form of procrastination. That, my little chums, is what you call hiding behind your multi-layered irony. So, wish me luck, I am going to embark upon my masterpiece, and I’ll see you all on the opening night. Benedict Cumberbatch will also feature in some fashion. I don’t know how this will come to pass, but I’m trying the negative reinforcement thing again…Auf Wiedersehen, Pets!

King Charles III by Mike Bartlett

Lovely readers, you’ll all be pleased to know that I have now returned from rainy London, to my even rainier home. I don’t think my followers (all seven of them) could have dealt with any more #London #city #culture #imsointeresting #noticeme. Thank you to all who stood by me during my incessant tweeding (if you don’t know what that word means, click here). I owe you seven a formal apology, and I am truly grateful that you have stuck by me during this difficult moment in my Twitter career.

But now to the real purpose of this otherwise needy blogpost:

TO TELL THE INTERNET ABOUT A PLAY I SAW

Note to self: I really need to get better at the title thing, a poor effort so far.

‘King Charles III’ by Mike Bartlett was a work of pure genius. Dreading an intense celebration of all things Windsor, I was blown away by Bartlett’s satire, perception and, most impressively, his ability to make anyone care about Prince Charles.

KC3 (ooh an initialism, things are about to get wild) is a future history play which begins with the death of Elizabeth II, who, for those of you who haven’t heard of her, is also known as Queenie. The next-in-line to the throne is, of course, the beloved Charlie-boy, played by Tim Pigott-Smith.

Oh, and did I mention the whole thing is written in iambic pentameter? Who’s in disbelief? All of you.

Not only did Bartlett expose the most intimate familial dynamics of the most iconic and emotionally repressed family in the world, but he did it in rhyme. 

Charles’ anxieties about becoming King? – 10 syllables per line

The whisperings of Princess Diana’s ghost? – expert use of rhyming couplets

The Duchess of Cambridge’s dramatic monologue – all in freaking verse, people

This was theatre on another level. Fraught with intrigue, this 2.5 hour epic challenges the relationship between Crown and State and the relevance of the Royal family altogether.

I liked this play so much, that I even bought the script from the little merchandise store, to which the usher said ‘No one ever buys these’. I was going to get the mug and T-shirt, but I couldn’t fit them in my suitcase. But, as I am now the proud owner of this wonderful script, it means I can accurately quote to you my favourite lines from the play – please try to contain your excitement, folks

Shall I be mother?

– King Charles to the Prime Minister, whilst holding a teapot

This is perhaps one of the wittiest things I have ever heard an actor say on-stage. Mike Bartlett, as I am sure you are an avid reader of my blog, I congratulate you.

A full cast list and their biographies can be found here and here is a photo of my cat getting into the KC3 mood.

I would urge you all to go and see this piece of theatre. It will make you laugh and cry, sometimes simultaneously which is generally a confusing experience, but it doesn’t matter a jot, because it’s art. Don your crowns or tiaras (whichever you have handy) and take a peep into the future with this more modern than modern-day political epic.

Tally of all the (mostly embarrassing) things I have done in London so far

Well that was a catchy title if I ever heard one. Thank god I’m not a writer or something.

So, good morning lovely readers! Can I just say, thank you to all of you who have followed this blog, or even been kind enough to ‘like’ my ramblings. It’s very nice of you all, and every one of you should buy yourself some cake, because you deserve it.

Today, I have decided to share with you my various embarrassing moments in the big city. Londontown. City of culture, town of theatre, O, brave new world that has such creatures in it. There are also a lot of pigeons and pollution.

‘But, Martha, what has this got to do with pretending to be a writer?’ I hear you all cry. All three of you. (Hi mum). Well, dear reader(s), to be a writer you must occupy yourself with cultural activities in a place such as this.

I say this for three reasons:

1. Everything you go and see informs your work. That’s right, being serious for a second, deal with it.
2.  You look really cool and interesting doing it. Like ‘Ooh she’s been to the Royal Academy, I can tell by her novelty crown she bought in the gift shop.’
3. You get to watch as other people pretend to be cultural. This is really fun. Pretend like you’re looking at the art, but really you’re just looking at the people looking at the art who are looking around to see if anyone is looking at them and witnessing their sheer culturalnessness.

This is all great fodder for writing. Or something. ANYWAY! Back to the real point of this post, which was to publicly embarrass myself on the Internet, can you please stop distracting me? This is very important. Here goes, my embarra-tally

• Number of times I have been asked directions from a tourist and most likely told them the wrong way, because, you know, I don’t live here: 2
• Pairs of M/L tights I bought from BHS thinking they meant M/L for humans, not fairy people: 3
• Times I had to pay 50p to use the ‘City Loos’ in order to adjust aforementioned fairy tights: 1
• Times I have taken the No. 23 bus: About 23 (the bus-driver knows my name and asks after my family now)
• Times I have made eye-contact with a stranger and then proceeded to trip over my own feet: 4
• Number of pages I’ve read of James Joyce’s ‘Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man’: 94
• Number of pages I’ve understood of James Joyce’s ‘Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man’: 0
• Times I’ve gotten lost: All the times
• Exhibitions seen: 3
• Performances seen: 3
• Times I’ve dropped my Oyster card in the middle of the road: 1
• Times I’ve been into ‘Anthropologie’ and drooled over all of their wares: 1 (that sounded more disgusting than I was going for)
• Twitter followers I’ve lost due to my incessant tweeting about being in London: 10
• Overpriced coffees purchased: More than I care to mention
• Police on horseback I’ve seen: 2 (Okay, I definitely did not think this was a real thing)
• Famous people I’ve seen: 1 (I didn’t know who he was for about 3 days, but it was Don Warrington. That’s right, bet you weren’t prepared for that luke-warm bombshell)
• Times I have fallen over on the tube: 1 (I’m actually quite proud that this number is so low)
• Television interviews I have been requested for: 1 (This is serious, guys. Tune into London Live on Friday afternoon 12-1pm. For once I’m not exaggerating my success, I swear.)
• Days I’ve spent thinking about how I would play it if I saw Benedict Cumberbatch: 3.5
• Amount of times I’ve actually seen Benedict Cumberbatch: 0

That’s right, I’m just here to make you feel better about your lives. Just doing my job. So there we have it, my embarrassing excursions in London. Tune in next time for more cringeworthy details about my life. Thank you for reading, and even if you didn’t finish this post, it still counts as a view for my stats, so everyone’s a winner. Stay classy.

Thought of the day #2

If someone holds writers in too much esteem, they’ll never become one

– Toby Litt

Happy Sunday, readers! I am writing this blogpost all the way from an undisclosed location that is different from where I normally am.

Hint: it rhymes with ‘undone’. Bigger hints can be found all over my twitter profile, because I’m basically a massive dweeb who can’t cope with travelling unless I tell the whole Internet. So follow me if you’re into that kind of needy tweeting, something I like to call ‘tweeding’. This will be trending by next week, I guarantee it. You read it here first #tweeding.

Last night I had the honour of seeing the one and only Dr. John Cooper Clarke and guests perform live. There really was an outstanding amount of talent radiating from that stage. Particularly from a Mr. Luke Wright, who, if you haven’t heard of already, in the nicest possible way, you are an embarrassment to humankind and should amend your error immediately.

Performance poetry is quite an interesting writing form as the persona of the writer becomes a very important part of how their work is received. And some of them do it really well. And some of them put the ‘ass’ in ‘assonance’. But we won’t go into that now.

Anywhom, this persona complex got me thinking about how all writers are perceived in general. If you want to be a writer, the biggest mistake you can make is being in awe of other writers. As I briefly discussed here, writers are just people who have structured their writing. If you build writing up into this god-like activity, which is so much more important than anything else, you will never become a writer, because you’re setting yourself up for something completely unattainable. Equally, if you are already a writer, and think you are a god-like creature who is so much more important than anyone else, people will not appreciate your general attitude to life and will most likely throw things at you.

Basically, let’s all be like JCC (he’s okay with me calling him that) because he’s the epitome of great talent coupled with great modesty. Also, he has great hair.

It’s Business, it’s Business Time

I very much resisted the urge to put multiple exclamation marks after the mostly confusing title I gave this post. We all want this blog to retain some air of sophistication; don’t we, children?

To recap, so far on the roller coaster ride that is this blog, we have established:

• I am a reckless runner https://runningrecklessly.wordpress.com/2014/09/25/i-recklessly-write-rewrite-write-etc/
• To be a writer, you’ve got to actually write https://runningrecklessly.wordpress.com/2014/09/26/thought-of-the-day/
• I have no idea what I’m doing https://runningrecklessly.wordpress.com/2014/09/29/important-disclaimer/

All very insightful, I know, but today is a big revelation. Please prepare to assume the recovery position after reading what I am about to tell you, it’s the only way you’ll survive the scandal.

Writing is an industry.

(That’s your cue to gasp in wonder, like you’ve just had an epiphany) Shocking, isn’t it?

It’s true, my little dears and my little deers, (I’ve noticed my blog has a surprisingly high woodland creature readership), if you want to be a writer, you have to think about it as an industry, a business. If you want to take your writing from being a hobby to being your career, you can’t just spend more of your time doing it as a hobby, that just makes you an eager hobbyist, at best. To treat your writing as a business, it requires a change of attitude, but here are just a few artificial things you can do to trick your brain into thinking you’re a professional.

1. Buy an expensive laptop and keep the receipt, with the intention of ‘claiming it back from the business’ once you’re rich and famous. (I have actually done this, and it works a treat).
2. Get yourself a little flip-back notebook that you carry in your top pocket, and every so often, open it up, grab the pencil secreted behind your ear, and jot some thoughts down. This way, passers-by will look at you and think ‘Ooh that’s one of them real writers, that is’.
3. Create a twitter account and annoy famous writers until they say something nice about you/employ you (that’s how the real professionals do it).
4. Always wear shoes when you’re writing. It just puts you in that, ‘I’m at work’ mood. Nothing kills professionalism like slipper socks.
5. Tell everyone you’re ‘working from home’ – that sounds really impressive.

After you have completed these 5 simple things, you will genuinely feel like you’re a real writer. Or you’ll feel like this blog is inciting far too much pretending, and not enough real practicable advice, and you’ll form an angry mob, made up of both disgruntled humans and other assorted wildlife, which will terrorise my town until you find my house and then give me a really good talking to.

You will never find me, so don’t try.

And on that note, my lovely pitch-fork brandishers, I wish you luck. Try to change your attitude about writing. Writers are human beings, they are not some Human 2.0 who is more in tune with the creative ether than anybody else. They are just regular mammals who took their hobby, and structured it. So go ahead, it’s business time.

Important Disclaimer

Despite the angle of this blog being in a ‘how to..’ format, I want you, my dear, mostly non-existent, readers to not be under any illusions that I have any idea as to what I am doing, or that I know how I should best go about doing whatever the hell I’m doing. Although you may have been fooled by my savvy lingo and the self-confidence oozing from my previous posts, I am, quite simply, very, very lost and trying to find direction. I am sharing with you my successes and failures, and any ounces of wisdom that I can glean. I am not a guru, nor do I intend to be one. If you are looking for a guru, then I will have to disappoint you, which is something that I ideally wanted to postpone until after post #10 at least. This is not a definitive guide on how to win at life as a writer, but it’s just the words and thoughts of someone, somewhere, sat at a keyboard. So join me, okay? You might just read something that changes your life.

Another important disclaimer: It’s most likely this blog will not change your life. *Big sigh from the entire Internet* I know, I know, it’s not an easy thing to hear, especially when the author is so witty and good-looking.

Thought of the day

I don’t give a shit what’s in your head

– Jeanette Winterson

This is what is on my mind this morning. Step 1 to beginning your life as a pretend successful writer – you actually have to write something. I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, it was a shock to me as well. Unfortunately, no one gives a shit about what’s in your head. If your ‘writing’ stays in your head, it doesn’t exist. You can’t even a pretend to be a writer if you only think about writing, otherwise the illusion just isn’t convincing. Writing is an active verb. It means that you write. So, you loveable phoneys, for the love of God, write.

I recklessly write, rewrite, write etc.

To quote my primary school P.E teacher:

Martha is working towards average. She needs to work on her hand-eye co-ordination, running recklessly from place to place.

This was true when I was 9, and still is today. I’m not just referring to my tragic performance in any kind of physical activity, but now, as I leave school and face a whole year out before I go to university, I find myself, once again, running in an incredibly reckless manner. And, instead of dealing with this like a mature human being, rising to the challenge and not freaking out in anyway; I decided to do the discrete thing and share my reckless life with the entire Internet, and you, lovely internet-goers.

So, we’ve already established that I can’t do sports to save my life. But luckily, if I were in the kind of situation where writing a slightly awkward, self-conscious blog post would save my life, maybe I would live to see another day (maybe, we’ll see how it goes).

After not dealing with leaving school very well – and after a lot of freaking out, I’ve decided to spend my year pretending to be an incredibly successful writer, and now you can too! Just follow this simple step-by-step guide to trick all your loved ones into thinking you can write, and that you generally have your life together*

*Terms and Conditions apply. This blog does not necessarily accomplish anything that I just told you it would. This is all part of the illusion.

So thanks for stumbling upon this clumsily worded blog, and I hope that you all stay for a cup of tea and some cake*

*Terms and Conditions apply. 1357% APR. Free tea and cake will not be provided to the readers of this blog. If you want to eat cake whilst reading this blog, you will have to bring your own cake, and you will have to bring enough for me, or you are hereby banished.