I have another draft on the go for what I wanted to write about today, but I want to get this down before I forget it. It’s some nascent thoughts about what I mean by going small in my creative work. Two recent generative writing exercises led me to two disjointed but somehow connected thinking:
- writing is about leaving messages about the place, ready to be stumbled on by someone;
- at the beginning of a show, there are all sorts of things I hope that people feel–a sense of expectation, of excitement perhaps–but what I most want them to feel is a sense of trust.
What I mean by the first is this: sometimes people need to find things, to uncover things, and we never know when the right time to find those things might be. So we write them as a kind of gift to the future. And I think maybe my reason for writing things at the moment is so that they are there for me to find at some point in the future. As I’m gathering momentum for my next story or work all of these things that I write right now are for me to look back on and to think, ‘Oh, that’s right, I remember when I was feeling this or thinking that.’
Here’s a thought I’ve uncovered while I was writing that: further confirmation that those six shows exist as their own complete set and it’s time to move on to something new, is that I know I’ve mined every piece of work I’ve previously written. All those scraps of ideas are used now, and it’s time to create some more.
Another thought I uncovered while I was writing that: while I’ve been working out what I mean by this, I have helped myself to understand another, but related aspect of going small. And it is this: rather than going on to bluesky and shouting out for everyone to hear, going small with my work means bringing it closer so that I can speak more softly and if I’m speaking more softly that means I can also hear.
All of these small fragments are part of the emerging whole.
What I mean by the second is this:
I remember once, someone I really respect who said to me that at the beginning of my shows they always feel a sense of calm, like they’re in safe hands. This felt like such an enormous sense of endorsement because it came at a time when I still felt very uncertain about being on stage and about being a performer. Like, if it looked like I knew what I was doing, then maybe I do know what I’m doing?
I don’t just want the audience to trust me, I need them to trust me. To trust that I am going to share a story that is worth their time and their energy. To trust that I am going to help them to explore stories and memories and feelings and sensations.
At the same time, I am trusting the audience to help me to create the space to share the story. I am telling the story, but they are also helping to create and to shape that story.
It seems to me that this trust is perhaps the most intimate of all our connections. There is hardly a smaller space between two people.
I’m loving this commitment to going small! And I’m so glad to still have this beautiful, blogiful space. Back tomorrow with the rest of the post that I started working on. It’s about London on a summer’s day.