It's over...

Finished. Done with. Completed. Terminated. At an end. No more. Continue with your own word, phrase or metaphor . . .

As to what exactly has come to an end . . . Now, that's a difficult one, as the Priest tells Michael in Angel. The easiest thing to say is Desire and Pursuit, the three one-man plays that I wrote, directed and produced at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, with the invaluable assistance of actors Christopher Annus and Christopher Peacock and my Other Half acting as stage manager / front of house. It's an experience that I am not eager to repeat. Despite months of preparation and publicity, we got small audiences, only three reviews (one of which, was excellent; the other two were good) and lost a lot of money. But you know you're going to lose money in Edinburgh!! everyone tells me. That's true. But you're also going to Edinburgh to get noticed and that did not happen.

What might also have come to an end is my theatrical career - or at least my career as a producer. Although I lost relatively little money in Edinburgh, I also lost something much more valuable - time. Hours, days and weeks that might have been spent on my book business, bringing in some profit, were spent on organising and promoting Desire and Pursuit. Time when I could have been relaxing and enjoying (and criticising!) the wide range of shows that Edinburgh has to offer was spent leafleting or postering or rehearsing or transporting stage sets to and fro or in the theatre as technician and stagehand. By Saturday, when the run ended, I was mentally exhausted. Three days later I am still dealing with the aftermath, as I update the various websites I run which promoted the plays. Normal life is returning, but there will be finances and administration to deal with until at least the beginning of October.

If my career as a producer is at an end, what about my future as a writer / director / actor? The easiest answer I can give at this stage is "No comment". I'm proud of the plays I wrote and the reaction I got day after day from audiences, plus the very occasional reviewer who deigned to stop by, confirmed that I have talent in that direction. But I am finding it impossible to get agents or other producers interested in my work and I have no wish to carry on hitting my head against the metaphorical wall of indifference (that phrase in itself might be enough to make me stop writing...) and I'm not currently in the mood to spend weeks or months writing something that few or no people will see. As for being a director . . . I enjoy it; I think I'm good at it; I would be happy to do it again, but I doubt anyone is going to employ me and (see previous paragraph) I'm not going to devote time and energy to put on a production just so I can direct it. The last option - being an actor? I have a modicum of talent and I'm still on the books of Casting Call Pro and available to anyone who wants to pay me, but I'm not holding my breath until Cameron Mackintosh and / or Steven Spielberg call me.

It might seem, therefore, that my theatrical career is indeed over. There is, however, a slim chance that it will be revived. Colleagues are looking at the possibility of reviving Now We Are Pope and Tadzio Speaks . . . If my services are required, I will of course answer the call. In the meantime, however, my attention is elsewhere.