I sat down in my dressing room at the Bloomsbury this afternoon and attempted to make a proper start on the play. But, as I usually am at the start of any project, I was overwhelmed by the scale of what I have to do and didn't get beyond making a few character notes. Have I bitten off more than I can chew this year? Or will the sense of dread, which feels like giddy hunger verging on nausea in my stomach, push me on to create something good. It felt like such a mountain to climb that I envisioned giving up comedy and writing all together and retiring to the countryside to read and care for sick animals.
This self doubt is something that is very much usual at this stage. But what if this time it's proven right. I mean caring for sick animals can't be easy either, but it feels like it's time to accept that I am no good at this and have just got this far by luck and sexual favours (I consider being so attractive that executives can masturbate whilst thinking about me a sexual favour).
In order to have a chance of casting some exciting actors in this I am aiming to get a first draft of the thing together by the end of the month, but I do not think that is realistic. But once the final WAGTD is out of the way tomorrow I do have a largely clear week to concentrate on making this idea take shape. But today I cursed my past self for agreeing to take on this potentially disastrous project. If that young fool (of a few months ago) had just kept his mouth shut then I could be spending the next two months doing nothing but putting my stand-up show together. He is a total prick.
The terror of failure has usually seen me through in the past though right?
And the penultimate "We're All Going To Die!" went fine, with a couple of hundred people in attendance. Luckily it's looking closer to a sell out for the DVD record on Friday (still a few tickets, last chance folks!). The Bloomsbury can be a tough room to play if it's not heaving, but I battled through and enjoyed myself. I made a couple of good new additions and then slightly distracted myself trying to remember what they were. And couldn't remember. We'll see what comes out of my mouth tomorrow.
I am going to miss this show. Sometimes at the end of a tour I feel like I've gone as far as I can with the material, but this one feels (ironically enough) like it has life in it. And tomorrow I have to cope with that additional strain that however I do the stuff is how it is going to be remembered. I hope I can do it justice.