Jake Barrowcliffe reflects on his Hatching residency

As part of my residency at The Nest, I was required to write a blog post. For some reason, I decided that what I would do instead was write about my experiences as they happened. This has taken the form of a journal of sorts. Now, I will warn you immediately, I have never kept a diary before. I often find my day to day life so utterly boring that the idea of reliving the moment-by-moment banality while writing it down and then by reading it back years later is like a Kafka-esque nightmare to me. However, this details something unusual and out of the ordinary. I do hope, dear reader, that you find some use in what follows or, at least, some entertainment.

06/04/2023 – I start my residency in 25 days. The contract was sent over to me today. Obviously, I panicked at the sight of it. I tried to calm myself by sending back an email asking a totally innocuous question. I don’t know why. It didn’t work. I think I just wanted someone to know I had received it and was taking it very seriously by meticulously combing through it.

It’s not the contract itself that scares me, I’ve signed contracts before, but what it means. Talking Birds are giving me the opportunity to develop an idea I’ve had. An idea I’ve had. An idea that I’m going to develop. There’s a part of me that feels as if I’m deceiving someone. It’s almost like I’ve stolen the identity of a playwright and am now desperately trying to play the part. I have no idea where any of that is coming from. I’ve written shows before. Maybe that’s the problem. Before in this sense was years ago. Also, the fact that I have written shows before but they’ve either been because I’ve had to or because I’ve just written them for me. 

I must stress that any of this pressure is coming from me. Talking Birds have been very clear in what they expect the outcome to be: they don’t expect an outcome. They don’t expect a performance, let alone a finished product. They just want for me to be able to explore my idea with none of the usual pressures or constraints. It’s a level of freedom that is a kind gift.

I’ve done all of the usual things; question every decision I’ve made up unto this point, doubt myself on the entire concept… The usual. This is a familiar feeling to me. I often reach a point where I start to doubt whether an idea I’ve had is actually any good in the first place. I combat it by reminding myself that there was a point when I unquestioningly believed in this idea and knew it was good. That helps. I know I will believe in it again. It’s the fact that now my residency feels very real why the doubt has begun to creep in. It’s not even doubt. It’s nerves masquerading as doubt.

Talking Birds have been very helpful. There are several key areas I want to focus on with my residency. Areas I have little to no knowledge in. Charlie (my contact at Talking Birds) has asked me to send her a breakdown of the fields I want to look into. What I want is to find people who have experience in the fields I’m looking into and arrange meetings with them. Charlie is helping me do that. She has also arranged for a writer/dramaturg to act as a mentor during my time at The Nest. I will be very interested to find out how that goes and what form their mentorship takes.

02/05/2023 – Day 1. It’s 10:10 and I’ve just got into my studio and set up. I’ve been here for a while now. Charlie gave me a tour of the building and afterwards I went down into We Share This Space to have a coffee. Some residents were already here. They were drinking tea, talking and showing some of the things they had done or made during their time here. I wonder if I’ll have anything to show? I don’t think a draft of an Arts Council funding application will really receive the same level of interest as a plant pot holder made of mycelium. That’s fair enough really. Even when I look at my own funding forms there’s always the danger of me actually slipping into a boredom induced coma.

Of the people that were already here when I arrived, and the few that filtered in whilst I sat with my coffee, I only knew a few. It didn’t matter though. They all treated me with the same level of warmth and consideration. It’s something that Talking Birds has tried to instil; an open and welcoming atmosphere. Whenever I experience it, however, it still takes me aback. I think that says something about me though. Consistently cynical.

16:36. It’s 16:36. Somehow. How? The time has disappeared. Where has it gone? Honestly. I decided to try and write the opening of my show. The very opening. Literally the first 5 minutes. Admittedly, I have done other things. Important things too but I just can’t believe that over 6 hours have come and gone. I think its because I’ve decided to trial a new writing style. Whereas usually I will think about and mull over an idea for years until I can effectively watch the show in my head and the writing just becomes a case of transcribing what I see, I haven’t done that this time. I have decided to put words down and see where it takes me. It’s been quite a surprising process already. Characters have said things that I wasn’t expecting. It remains to be seen whether this is a good thing or not, but I imagine we’ll see. The ‘this’ in the last sentence is the writing process, not the fact that characters I’ve invented are surprising me. I’ve not lost my grip on reality just yet.

03/05/2023 – It’s 10:11. I wonder if tomorrow I’ll start writing this at 10:12.

‘Blue, blue, electric blue. That’s the colour of my room, where I will live’. – Sound And Vision, David Bowie, Low, 1977.

I’ve had that song stuck in my head for a long time now and couldn’t figure out why. I’ve just struggled unlocking the door to the studio. I promise its not my fault. I’m 30. I’ve used keys before and I’d like to think I’ve got quite used to it by now. It’s the fact that the two keys on the set Charlie gave me are almost identical (that and the door double locks). I defy anyone to get this door open first time, every time. After an amount of time that I’m not going to be specific about because I think if I was you would lose any respect for me you may have had, I stopped and thought about my options. I can’t ask for help. ‘Hello again, Derek. Thanks for the residency. I promise you, giving it to me and not someone else was the best thing to do. I won’t let you down. Anyway, I can’t open a door. Can you do it for me?’. That’s not happening. I mean, I know Talking Birds don’t expect anything from me but an inability to actually get into the studio is a bit much, don’t you think? I suppose I’ll have to keep trying. As this thought slowly washed over me, my head sunk down in disappointment. As my eyes cast towards the floor I saw the name of the studio I’m in. Solid Blue. I suppose that’s why I’ve got that song in my head.

Anyway, it’s going to be a day of thinking about how this show is going to look and what the music is going to be like. I suppose the answer to Bowie’s question is yes. I do wonder, sometimes, about sound and vision. Quite a lot actually.

16:46. I’ve been writing again. I have a very clear idea in my head of what and where I want this to go. I know exactly what characters need to do and I’ve got a fairly decent idea on what they need to say. So why can’t I just put that onto the page? Every time I write something, the same thing happens. I know where I want things to go, I start writing, I read it back, it’s terrible. What is happening? Everything I put down just seems too obvious. There seems to be no nuance to anything. I know this is only a first draft but a first draft has to be something worth working on in the first place. I think part of the problem is is that I’m starting at the start. I know I don’t have to write chronologically but I prefer to. I have a much clearer idea where things are going after the inciting incident. All I have to do is get there, and that’s the issue. Maybe that’s what I’m telling myself though. Maybe if I’d started in the middle of the story I’d be saying exactly the same thing. It could be that I know I’m struggling and I’m trying to justify that any way I can. It’s not because I’m a bad writer. I don’t think so at least. Everyone at Talking Birds has been supportive. They’ve been stressing the lack of expectation and that this is what the residency is for. What they can’t help with though is the feelings of personal disappointment. Probably because I haven’t told them. I don’t know what to do here.

04/05/2023 – 10:12! I’m not joking. It is 10:12. I promise you, I have not massaged these times into something pleasing. This level of chronological continuity is beautiful. If only that could bleed into my writing. About that actually, I’ve had a break through. Show, don’t tell. I think that the lack of nuance and obviousness that has been annoying me with my writing is down to the fact that I have been being far too literal. I kept telling the audience what was happening. I have to accept that they can pick up on context clues and put the story together themselves. For example, my show is set in a time of tremendous economic strife. What I have at the moment is the characters literally saying that. ‘Times are tight’. That phrase is haunting me because it appears so many times in the first 10 pages. I think I’d run the risk of turning the audience into a baying mob with how heavily I’ve beaten them over the head with that heavy exposition. Now, the problem is that I’m just telling the audience this piece of information. No subtlety, no finesse. It’s lazy writing. So how can I inform an audience of this very important piece of information in a way that’s not explicitly telling them and is a pleasing thing to work out. I show them. The show takes place in a tavern. What if we see the tavern owner watering down the ale? What about someone making their drink last? The reason is exactly the same. That hasn’t changed. Times are tight. Now, though, an audience can work it out for themselves. It’s a more subtle way to convey the information and we don’t have characters uncharacteristically addressing something that is obvious to them and, lets face it, boring to hear. Plus, the audience will feel more rewarded for putting these things together themselves and won’t feel completely patronised by having things so obviously explained to them. Show, don’t tell.

17:00. The end of another day. I’ve just got out of the meeting with the writer/dramaturg. I will admit, I was slightly skeptical of how this would go. I’d had it in my head that it would be someone turning up and telling me exactly how to write my story and that they would start suggesting changes. I had prepared myself for taking a principled stand and having to really fight for my idea. Well, I was wrong. I have no shame in admitting that. The mentor who came in, Steve Johnstone, was really nice and actually interested in what I’d got to say. I think the reason it went as well as it did was because I had sent him over a few quite detailed things that outlined my show, what its about and the themes there in. Because of that, the conversation could just begin in a useful place rather than talking about things I’ve already decided upon. One of the other things is the fact that Steve is a director. He is a director who also writes but, is a director first and foremost. This was either a master stroke pairing from Talking Birds or an incredibly fortuitous coincidence. I, myself, am a director first and foremost. Personally writing doesn’t come naturally to me but it is a necessity. What this results in is me approaching writing from a slightly different angle from that of a writer. It was reaffirming to speak to someone with a similar approach and hear that, no, I’m not mad. I just need to get on and write the thing. Worry about the revisions at the end. For now carry on thinking about this piece as a director. Thinking about that during the writing stage avoids a lot of problems further down the line. And, let’s be honest, allows time to think of things that funders might want to know. That’s what I think, at least.

05/05/2023 – 10:33. I know, I know. A relatively late start today. The good thing is, I really feel ready to go with the writing. I’m not sure if its because of the conversation I had with Steve or because I’ve reached a point in the script where I feel I know, pretty much exactly, what happens. Most likely it’s a combination of both. Either way, I’m looking forward to today. I have a few emails to send but I think the bulk of today will be writing. The conversation with Steve proved to be very useful in more ways that just its intended purpose. Afterwards, I felt a lot lighter. My girlfriend, Amy, said I was in a suspiciously good mood. I thought so too. I didn’t know why at the time. Later on I saw my cousin, Sam, himself a writer. We got talking about each others projects. At the end of the conversation he said ‘You seem rejuvenated’. It’s not really for me to say but, I think he’s right. I have Steve to thank for that. I’m feeling good today. The confirmation that I have a strong concept and I’m going in the right direction was enough to pick me up.

16:46. Well, that was a good day today. I have nearly finished Act I. I just have a few more lines to put in and I’m there. I would have done it sooner but I couldn’t. I was in my flow. A truly zen like state of working quickly and working well. I have set the scene. It’s all going well. The tension has risen and now it just needs the pay off. This is where the real story begins. The ground work has been laid and now comes the things that’s going to set the story off. Just a few more lines and then the bombshell. The trigger point. Just as I’m about to do that though, my phone rings. The world around me shifts back into focus and my concentration has gone. It’s my Mum calling me. I’m sure its something important though. In fairness, I’ve probably bored her enough with this project as it is. She is more than entitled to speak to me whenever she wants. Like I say, I’m sure its something important. I take the call. I’ll have to finish Act I when I’m next in. My Mum is thinking about getting a Costco card though.

09/05/2023 – 09:55. I’m back in after a long bank holiday weekend. The nation stopped to watch an old man sit in a chair and wear a hat. Somewhat annoying, to be honest. I wanted to come back into The Nest and finish what I’d started as soon as possible. It doesn’t matter. It’s Tuesday today and also my last day. I’ll get things done. It’s going to be a strange day today. I have Amy Kakoura in with me to start looking at music. I’m slightly dreading it. I have an idea of what I want the music to be but a complete inability to express it. I lack the very basic vocabulary required to describe anything musical. I think piano, aside from being an instrument, means soft. That is the limit of my musical abilities. We’ll see how that goes. It could turn out to be more than professionally embarrassing though. For context, Amy is, as well as being a very good musical director and composer, my girlfriend. She has had to put up with my self-indulgent ramblings about this project and my ‘vision’ from the start. I have this image in the back of my mind that she is going to ask me about what I want for the music and my response will be so pitifully weak that she loses any amount of respect for me and declares that I am a charlatan. Now, knowing Amy as I do, she would never do that. And knowing me as I do, I know that I do know what I want. I think it’s that self imposed pressure creeping in again. Everything will be fine.

I also have Jude Rees coming in to go over some of the instruments that were around at the time my play is set. The 16th century was before the invention of a lot of the instruments that one usually thinks of. She’s going to bring in some pieces and demo them. I have some idea of what to expect but we will see what happens.

17:10. And that was that. My residency is complete. The day went well. It was good talking to Jude. She has a lot of contacts and clearly knows her stuff. I have a much clearer idea of the parameters I’m working in now. The conversations I had with Amy proved fruitful as well. We will be able to get onto the music soon, I am hoping. I wasn’t even exposed as a fraud at any point, which was nice. I think the reason is is that I’m not. It doesn’t matter how I feel, I do have a good idea and I am going the right way about trying to realise that. That’s something that I’ve realised during my time with Talking Birds. I don’t have to know everything about every little detail. I can always find someone who knows what I don’t. That has been a huge relief. I don’t have to do this plate-spinning and trying to keep uncountable thoughts in my head. People will give advice and try to help you out. The first draft of Act I is finished and I’m going along the right road. The keeping going isn’t the hard bit, the starting is. Talking Birds have given me a reason to start. Without that, I’m not sure I would have.

I cleared the studio and handed my keys back to Charlie. It was nice to have been here. That’s why leaving is tinged with sadness. I will miss my studio, or whoever’s studio. I got things done in there that I couldn’t get done anywhere else. It was a place of making, for both the art and the artist. As I leave, Charlie hands me a card. I have only opened it now, as I write this. Enough time has passed that the sadness has subsided. The front of the card says ‘Found your flock’. I think I have.

Thinking back to the people I spoke to during my time and the things I learned is staggering. There was so much. I am glad I did this residency. I think I am a better person professionally for having done it.

By the way, Jude mentioned that the piano is called the piano forte because it was the first keyboard instrument to play both soft and hard. You learn something new every day.