A couple of nights ago I made an excellent decision. One of my best, I think. And timely too.
I decided that rather than attempt to visit 80 festivals in one year as originally planned, I will try to get my old job back and spend the year reading about management team revamps, partnership boosts and fixed-fee tech boutiques.
I joke, of course.
Rather, I am removing the time constraint.
I can and I will!
I will and I have!
Consider it done.
I only ever introduced the endurance element because I thought it would make the project more commercially viable. This, thus far, has proven fallacious.
Damn you, Branson!
And the closer I get to having to accept that a lack of funding is going to make the original plan impossible, the more the notion of taking as long as I like appeals. And the more thought I give it, the more sense it makes. It would, after all, make the whole experience that much richer.
If, for example, rather than 80 festivals in one year, I did 80 festivals in six and a half years (which would work out at a meagre one a month), would I not get to experience each festival so much more fully? Why, of course I would! I would have time to choose more carefully, to prepare more completely and to explore more profoundly. And I wouldn’t have to dash everywhere like a blue-arsed eejit in a constant panic, missing planes and leaving beautiful, unfinished moments behind.
Although I can see that that has a certain charm to it too, and if a big bag of money were to land in my lap, I’d still love to have a crack at it.
So, recognising the increasingly savage unlikeliness of that, it’s time to start planning for the next best thing. Which already, happily, is sounding even better.
Of course, even with the slow version, there still remains the question of funding. The only difference being that I’ll have more time to find it and therefore more options to play with and hopefully, over time, more chance of getting the thing to pay for itself.
And I can work at other things too, of course. I’ve no qualms about working – and not just writing work, which would be ideal, and not just manual labour of the agricultural variety which would be second-favourite, but also any kind of old crap at all, as long as it doesn’t take place in an office on Oxford Street.
So I’m still leaving on January 31st, but now that the pressure is off, I’m actually looking forward to it again.
What I’m thinking at the moment is concentrating on Europe for a while. First I need to contact the people who were keen to help with the original version and find out if they’re still keen. Then I need to pay off last year’s income tax instalments and see how much money I’ve got left.
We shall see.
I must admit, although a large part of me much prefers the idea of being able to do exactly what I please, there is also a part of me that would have loved to have been taken under the wing of some TV production company or other and packed off with a wad of cash and a geezer with a proper camera. Ah well. Not to worry.
I did have a couple of media sorts interested there for a while actually, but I think my lack of experience in front of the camera was one of the things that put them off.
I should of course have shown them this gem of a short film from 2004, in which I portray a struggling artist called Darryl. Darryl lives in a dilapidated West Norwood bedsit and has alarming delusions of grandeur. Fashion icon, musician, campaigning pro-Semite. In fact, Darryl is none of these things. He just has mental problems.[vimeo 18480048 w=500 h=375]
Why I’ve not been snapped up by BBC Three is anybody’s guess.
So yes. That’s the new plan. There are two festivals in Italy in the first month which I can definitely manage, and depending on my cash situation in a couple of weeks, maybe one in Spain too.
So that’d be a start. And of course if I do it well enough, a discerning sponsor might always step in at any moment and make everything go a little bit faster.
So that’s that. Oh, and late last night I finished the latest and hopefully final draft of the novel. Now let the praying commence.
And you, are you well? I do hope so. January’s fucking miserable, isn’t it?