"You need to write something for me!"
"Erm, ok."
"Yeah! You need to write something for me. Something acting related."
"Ok."
Her enthusiastic cheek dimple is now in full force, as Clare's excitement at her own idea starts to build. And I am struggling to resist her wide, excited green eyes and say: "no, I have no time to write." "I have no ideas worth writing about." "I can't write." "What will I have to say?" "No one will read or listen to me?"...
"I'm scared!"
I'm scared.
I am scared to write and put my thoughts out there into the world.
It's one thing feeling creative and quite another thing to put the work out there for the scrutiny of others. Personally speaking, I could laugh all day long at what goes on in my head. Sometimes I do; out loud. You have probably caught me once or twice. In my opinion, I am hilarious. But I'm also not immune to those blank faces, that look at me bewildered (I can see the tumbleweed roll over their eyeballs) as I put into words some of the lunatic creations I have in my head.
I have started at least 4 blogs in the last 7 years and to my shame, despite everyone's support, I have completely bottled every one of them. They have all slowly, but surely, dwindled into the blogspace in the sky. Strange thing is; I like writing. No! I love writing. I love words and building and shaping something. I can imagine, much like how an architect designs and creates their edifices, with meaning and care and craftsmanship. I think that the problem maybe (ok, definitely) is that I am concentrating too much on what others think of my work, the fear of criticism drives me back into my hermit shell. And by god, I should know by now that is a lousy and soul-wrecking road to go down.
And the truth is: "what I write" and having "no time to write" are not really an issue. Not when I think way, way, way, (one more, way...) back to my childhood collection of Care Bear, My Little Pony, Transformers, Rainbow Brite, Roland Rat, and Danger Mouse notebooks. In fact still have. All of them filled, not with the usual doodlings of a child, but with my BIG handwriting and the little worlds I created. THIS IS MICHELLE BARWOOD'S NOTEBOOK, AGED 8. I created worlds, stories, adventures, thoughts and musings about the world I lived in and worlds that I didn't but wished to. And then I drew out and fashioned these worlds in real life. I brought my writing into existence with the costumes: party dresses from the 70's & 80's, flares, ties, belts, platform shoes, dad's jade wedding suit, mum's sparkling silver jumpsuit. Then onto the scenes: overturned sofas, chairs as stages, blankets as tents or baths as boats. The cast: an enthusiastic or (most times) reluctant sister or brother as a crew mate, a band member, a Kim for my Mel, or a Musketeer. Then off to battle.
I wrote then.
And I acted then.
All without fear.
Excuse me, who let the fear in?
"Oh yes that would be me."
"Sorry 8yr old me. My fault!"
I was busy growing up and trying to be part of the world and please the adults, and listen to the adults, and do what the adults tell me: and do adult things.
Turns out adult things are pretty bloody dull (With the exception of one thing!)
The last two years of my life have been about coming back to that 8yr old Michelle; professionally and personally. Shovelling and shucking off all the adult crap and shit to reveal the real and truthful me. As I finally take the leap and train to do what I have always longed to do; act. Finally, aged 33yrs & 11months. And personally, as I learnt to extricate myself from a life path that was at odds with this road that I have always longed to travel down. And one thing I have noticed in both the acting and personal journey (thanks Xfactor for eternally ruining that phrase), is that the people I meet on similar journeys: whether it be acting, singing, running, cliff-diving, yoga, or meditation and enlightenment. It all comes back to learning to be in that childlike state. Learning to shake off those adult fears of scrutiny and judgment and fear of failure, ridicule, or shame. And do the thing you love, just because you love it.
At this point, whenever I think of doing something just for the sheer hell and joy of it, I think of Rik Mayall, as my Drop Dead Fred, hero. "Dog poo, dog poo, lovely lovely dog poo. Dog poo on the sofa, dog poo on the carpet. Dog poo, lovely lovely dog poo!"
Don't you sometimes just want to have that moment? And isn't it wonderful when you start to feel those moments of pure joy?
Addictive, aren't they?
(This is why we all envy children)
So based on dimple enthusiasm alone, in an attempt to keep Clare in a permanent state of blissful dimpledom, I am going to start up my Roland Rat notebook again. Hopefully with less fear and more of 8yr old me. Ready to write worlds and stories, and to finally not really care what anyone thinks about me or my writing!.... Yeah!
But I do.
I am new (relatively and in terms of consistency) to all of this. So I have no idea what my "slant" or "angle" is going to be here. So on that front, your help and feedback would be much appreciated. I want to write something honest and truthful, and not because I feel like I have to write something. Or even, dare I say it Clare, I know it's called Theatre Mix, but it might not even be related to acting.
Like I say, my travels (see not "journey" - ha ha, screw you Cowell) and my new life experiences are all bound up in a red polka-dot knotted sack together. The struggles (c'mon positive spin Barwood) I mean, adventures, I have as an actor and writer are all inextricably linked to how I have also started down a new personal path. And I am sure that those of you more experienced than moi, know about this already. But that is the truth and I want to write the truth. And hopefully not bore you. Hopefully create more worlds and stories once day. But always from a foundation of truth; the concrete of the creative world.
Thanks
Michelle
"Erm, ok."
"Yeah! You need to write something for me. Something acting related."
"Ok."
Her enthusiastic cheek dimple is now in full force, as Clare's excitement at her own idea starts to build. And I am struggling to resist her wide, excited green eyes and say: "no, I have no time to write." "I have no ideas worth writing about." "I can't write." "What will I have to say?" "No one will read or listen to me?"...
"I'm scared!"
I'm scared.
I am scared to write and put my thoughts out there into the world.
It's one thing feeling creative and quite another thing to put the work out there for the scrutiny of others. Personally speaking, I could laugh all day long at what goes on in my head. Sometimes I do; out loud. You have probably caught me once or twice. In my opinion, I am hilarious. But I'm also not immune to those blank faces, that look at me bewildered (I can see the tumbleweed roll over their eyeballs) as I put into words some of the lunatic creations I have in my head.
I have started at least 4 blogs in the last 7 years and to my shame, despite everyone's support, I have completely bottled every one of them. They have all slowly, but surely, dwindled into the blogspace in the sky. Strange thing is; I like writing. No! I love writing. I love words and building and shaping something. I can imagine, much like how an architect designs and creates their edifices, with meaning and care and craftsmanship. I think that the problem maybe (ok, definitely) is that I am concentrating too much on what others think of my work, the fear of criticism drives me back into my hermit shell. And by god, I should know by now that is a lousy and soul-wrecking road to go down.
And the truth is: "what I write" and having "no time to write" are not really an issue. Not when I think way, way, way, (one more, way...) back to my childhood collection of Care Bear, My Little Pony, Transformers, Rainbow Brite, Roland Rat, and Danger Mouse notebooks. In fact still have. All of them filled, not with the usual doodlings of a child, but with my BIG handwriting and the little worlds I created. THIS IS MICHELLE BARWOOD'S NOTEBOOK, AGED 8. I created worlds, stories, adventures, thoughts and musings about the world I lived in and worlds that I didn't but wished to. And then I drew out and fashioned these worlds in real life. I brought my writing into existence with the costumes: party dresses from the 70's & 80's, flares, ties, belts, platform shoes, dad's jade wedding suit, mum's sparkling silver jumpsuit. Then onto the scenes: overturned sofas, chairs as stages, blankets as tents or baths as boats. The cast: an enthusiastic or (most times) reluctant sister or brother as a crew mate, a band member, a Kim for my Mel, or a Musketeer. Then off to battle.
I wrote then.
And I acted then.
All without fear.
Excuse me, who let the fear in?
"Oh yes that would be me."
"Sorry 8yr old me. My fault!"
I was busy growing up and trying to be part of the world and please the adults, and listen to the adults, and do what the adults tell me: and do adult things.
Turns out adult things are pretty bloody dull (With the exception of one thing!)
The last two years of my life have been about coming back to that 8yr old Michelle; professionally and personally. Shovelling and shucking off all the adult crap and shit to reveal the real and truthful me. As I finally take the leap and train to do what I have always longed to do; act. Finally, aged 33yrs & 11months. And personally, as I learnt to extricate myself from a life path that was at odds with this road that I have always longed to travel down. And one thing I have noticed in both the acting and personal journey (thanks Xfactor for eternally ruining that phrase), is that the people I meet on similar journeys: whether it be acting, singing, running, cliff-diving, yoga, or meditation and enlightenment. It all comes back to learning to be in that childlike state. Learning to shake off those adult fears of scrutiny and judgment and fear of failure, ridicule, or shame. And do the thing you love, just because you love it.
At this point, whenever I think of doing something just for the sheer hell and joy of it, I think of Rik Mayall, as my Drop Dead Fred, hero. "Dog poo, dog poo, lovely lovely dog poo. Dog poo on the sofa, dog poo on the carpet. Dog poo, lovely lovely dog poo!"
Don't you sometimes just want to have that moment? And isn't it wonderful when you start to feel those moments of pure joy?
Addictive, aren't they?
(This is why we all envy children)
So based on dimple enthusiasm alone, in an attempt to keep Clare in a permanent state of blissful dimpledom, I am going to start up my Roland Rat notebook again. Hopefully with less fear and more of 8yr old me. Ready to write worlds and stories, and to finally not really care what anyone thinks about me or my writing!.... Yeah!
But I do.
I am new (relatively and in terms of consistency) to all of this. So I have no idea what my "slant" or "angle" is going to be here. So on that front, your help and feedback would be much appreciated. I want to write something honest and truthful, and not because I feel like I have to write something. Or even, dare I say it Clare, I know it's called Theatre Mix, but it might not even be related to acting.
Like I say, my travels (see not "journey" - ha ha, screw you Cowell) and my new life experiences are all bound up in a red polka-dot knotted sack together. The struggles (c'mon positive spin Barwood) I mean, adventures, I have as an actor and writer are all inextricably linked to how I have also started down a new personal path. And I am sure that those of you more experienced than moi, know about this already. But that is the truth and I want to write the truth. And hopefully not bore you. Hopefully create more worlds and stories once day. But always from a foundation of truth; the concrete of the creative world.
Thanks
Michelle
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