Wednesday, 14 May 2014
40's and Mr Spielberg
I have hit forty (although in my head I am still 23, not sure why 23, it wasn't a stand-out year particularly...1995...), well I hit forty about eighteen months ago and slowly the sun has risen on my adulthood and the dawning made me realise
Bugger. I'M GETTING OLD.
I panicked, as you do; I looked at my life so far, in a kind of never-ending re-run of episodes most of which I would like to forget (apart from the good ones obviously, trouble with flashbacks they tend to be bad!). I spent an awful long time staring at my enlarging belly and wondering what it was all for.
In short: I stopped.
Then at the turn of this year I started again. 2013 went with a whimper, it sort of disappeared into a black hold of nothingness; 2014 began and the older wiser me thought:
BUGGER THIS, LET'S GET STARTED.
Started with what though? I stare at a screen and pretend to be a writer; I work for an organisation that couldn't organise a...well you must know the phrase; I love doing things creative but seem to start projects and never see them through. So what did I want to start?
So I wrote a letter to Steven Spielberg saying thank you for my childhood memories, and guess what...
since then I have written a play about World War One; a play about modern love that I may turn into a monologue; a short story for children that will include the space for their own illustrations; an idea that I want to take to the Brighton Fringe Festival next year; a collection of short stories based around a ring and I have a business idea that I want...nay need...to take further so that I can leave the infernal burdensome job that I really cry inside about every time I walk into the office.
Just that one simple letter got me started again. I think I may write another letter to someone else and see how that inspires.
No reply from Mr Spielberg as yet, but who knows.
Zac Thraves. Currently reading Mark Kermode; currently watching House of Cards; currently cooking tuna pasta bake; currently wearing a scarf for a tie.