So I’ve been agonizing.
It’s a real point of pride to be able to say this but I’ve been accepted onto an MFA programme. I don’t really know how it happened but it has, and I had to make a hard decision and it’s to go for it. So I’ll be taking a break from blogging into nothingness – since no one is reading these things – sorry nothingness, no offense, mate.
Anyway, I’ve been accepted onto a fairly prestigious course at The Lir Academy in Dublin. It feels like a big deal, but it also feels like something I applied for on a whim, didn’t really think through, and somehow showed enough potential to be a good candidate. Really, all I wanted was the chance to chat to Loughlin Deegan, who was director of the Dublin Theatre Festival (when I volunteer there and really developed a hunger for theatre) and Graham Whybrow, who was literary manager at the Royal Court, where I fall in and out of love on a regular basis.
When I fired off my last play I didn’t think through what it would mean – a move back to Ireland, being back in college, being a student again, not working for another year…. Which is worrying. But most of all leaving London. All of which is a scary prospect.
But, I think I have to do it. I think I have to give this time and energy. By this, I mean this bizarre calling to put words on a page, that actors will read and make shapes with. I think if I don’t I’ll always wonder and probably regret.
Still it’s hard to leave. I don’t feel ready to go. But I’m like this at parties and at the pub. I want to stay til the very last, and keep going, keeping drinking, keep chatting or dancing, instead of doing the sensible, intelligent thing and going home to be good to write the next day.
So yeah, I have to do the intelligent thing and leave the party early.