Great Panjandrum with the little button at top

Metamorphosis - six

January 12th
Not going to write anything here until something has been written elsewhere - an opening speech, an opening paragraph - let's see what happens tonight.

Metamorphosis - five

Sat January 10th
Exciting day today - a copy of A New Discourse of a Stale Subject called The Metamorphosis of Ajax arrived in the mail catapulting me back thirty years to when I last worked on it. How intimately I thought I knew Harington - and how naive that notion seems now. But writing a play about him is perhaps an extension of the desire to be intimate with him. A rather girlish desire, and one that would probably horrify the man - but then again, he was a terrible show-off, so perhaps the attention four hundred years down the track would delight him.

But just when I thought I settled on something to write which would solve the problem of time-shortage/theatre-obligation, comes a sad email from my agent Anne saying:
"And it sort of drives me batty that someone as accomplished as a novelist as you are, should, it seems, not dare to risk a new foray into that hard, even harder, world of publishing. I hope the priest may get past you!"
The priest is a reference to one of the ideas for a novel I have floated. I can't remember which story unfolds around him, as I've trifled with numerous. This missive makes me feel terribly guilty as Anne has put years of encouragement into me, never failing to respond to every idea and manuscript, and never quailing when bad news had to be delivered, but always believing in me. I would like more than anything else in the world to present her with the success that she, rather than I, deserves, and a tribute to her faith in me.
But another novel? With my time-poverty? And what if it is a dog like The Shadow Poet?
 Actually I might post one of the several versions (4? 5?) of The Shadow Poet just for fun. I wonder if anyone would read it?

Metamorphosis - four

January 8th
Tonight I told the assembled Company of Teens - a dozen nice but undisciplined kids - that I had thought of a play on New year's Day, and they clapped. It was sweet and rather surprising that an act of incipient creation should be regarded as an achievement in itself.
If only the idea was the thing itself, I would be fantastically prolific. I was telling Tiggi yesterday about my idea for a Bulgarian Love's Labour's Lost complete with pointy hats and embroidered frontlets and wild clarinets, and she sighed and said "You always have another idea, mother."

Tiggi requests a book of rhymes,
An antidote to grisly times?
Alas she doesn't understand
The limits of her mother's hand.
A splendid tale is my delight
But rhyming makes me fumble quite.
She wants to sketch some limericks
And I'm the one to turn up tricks?
Alas, dear daughter, I fear I'll fail you
And flattery will not avail you.
i cannot mint a rhyme a minute
My talent, rhyming is not in it.

Metamorphosis - three

January 5th 2009
I have decided not to pay any attention to how much I eat, drink or exercise, but instead to concentrate on how much time I spend reading, writing, thinking, praying and communing with my friends.

I figure when I die they will not say admiringly: "She kept her weight down to ten stone and only drank two glasses of wine a night."

Jeremy's birthday today, attended with all the usual disappointments.The 20" monitor I had so carefully purchased, arranged delivery of, and concealed for two weeks, turned out to be the wrong spec, and will thus involve spending more money. (cue groans)  J.'s favourite restaurant, which I so carefully booked well in advance for Saturday, turned out to completely taken over by a larger group - quite how you forget you are completely booked-out escapes me. However the substitute they found us was perfectly decent, and a very jolly time was had by all (eleven of us in total). It is the most agreeable thing in the world to have friends, similar in age and taste, and clearly Mike and Adrian thought it a good evening as they were planning to celebrate their joint-ish birthday in the same fashion later in the month.

Clearly I plan too carefully, and suffer when the planning fails to deliver the expected result. Memo to self: just let it happen.

Metamorphosis - two

The drawback of having a new project is that it sucks energy out of everything else. I have a play to work on, and various other obligations, mostly of the chore variety, but all I am interested in is Harington and his Jakes. I can see that the next few months, while I work increasingly hard on Much Ado & then Macbeth are going to be an exercise in frustration.
However on the plus side, I have little to do on Much Ado now that the text is ready, and I see no virtue in spending lots of time on the music yet, as my MD (Charles) is still a little uncertain. If he can't do the show, then I'd have to start again with another MD anyway. I find the last 8 weeks are the really productive time, so might as well pack everything into that period.

So roll out the water closet.

At the moment I'm thinking of having an old Harington and a young Harington, and possibly an old Queen and a young Queen, and the substance of the play being legacy - Harington's work disappearing without trace - but perhaps not - did Bacon pick it up after all? But the Queen whose legacy was unquestionable - would she have traded it all for one true love and a housefull of children and some fun?
Dangerous to bring the Queen on - but she is part of the story. 

The Metamorphosis - one

Hallelujah - a New Year and a wonderful new idea.

Flushed with a tremendously good party at Tish & John Hayton's last night, and not at all hung-over, I have started work on a new project which miraculously ticks every single box.

I am going to write a play on The Metamorphosis of Ajax by Sir John Harington. I studied this funny, subversive and quirky book as part of my Ph. D. thesis and have long had affection for it and wanted to make it more widely known.
It has tremendous potential for a play/devised piece, and I can see it going down well at Great Munden and in Edinburgh.
It has a brilliant hook in the idea (invention of the water closet/exposition of religious tolerance) and a play naturally fits the bill in that the actual time-outlay in writing it is far less than a novel, but still constitutes a serious literary pursuit. Then I can get on to the devising stage with the company, who will be selected for their enthusiasm for the project. So it wins all round.

In the meantime I can keep working on the illustrated Hunting Ecstasy as well, to keep my agent happy, as I don't suppose a play will.