Writer's Room

I am writing this Blog Post in my Writer's Room. It consists of an ancient yellow kitchen table on which sits my net book and printer underneath an Ikea yellow bookcase which holds my journals, jottings and assorted writings over the years. It is a small second bedroom in a two bedroom terrace street which was built circa 1896 if the house on the end is anything to go by. They were built to house the workers of Building Firm Wilmott Dixon who had a Factory at the back in Havelock Place. The factory was still there when I moved here in October 1988. The Factory went on fire in the early 1990's and there now stands a Housing Association Complex. My blind is three quarters down and the sun beams through the bottom. I should be outside somewhere but I am sat here bashing the keyboards listening to Talk Sport. A recent addition to the writers' room is an ancient camp bed that dates back to the 1950's, greenish metal on wheels. This will be my bed when I entertain visitors and literary groupies when my writing really takes off. My aim to become a modern day Dramatic Bukowski with tea and coffee on tap. I have published my first book at the age of 47.

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I have also signed up to do an M.A in Playwriting at Salford University which will take me away from the plastic capital of Wales for two days a week. Plenty of travel unless I can secure part time employment and accommodation in the North West. I had a Mexican Stand off at the Canton Job Centre. I was told that there would be no benefit for the likes of me, someone who chooses full time education over a life on benefits. I was on the old Incapacity Benefit (due to my Mental Health Diagnosis) which turned into E.S.A whose ATOS work capability assessment I failed or passed dependent on which side of the desk you sit on. So I have been on J.S.A for 8 months and now I am on nothing bar a wing and a prayer but I am a free man. I don't have to turn up and sign every two weeks and pretend that I have been using the Universal Job Search Online with delicacies such as Avon Representative and Call Centre drone on offer.
So I am setting about the script that I always wanted to follow and that script is of being a writer. It won't pay but I don't care. It is the only thing that I enjoy doing...well no that's not true, I enjoy gardening, I enjoy eating, sleeping and twitter. 

Well it is here in my writers' room that I dwell mostly now away from other 'hooman beans'. They are ok and not a problem one on one or in a group of three but any more than that I start feeling self conscious, the frenzy of the crowd is out for the shark fisherman.

Hit and runs into the cauldron when necessity requires, but not out of choice anymore!
The M.A is the first year it has ever been run and what sold it to me is that every Wednesday we (aspiring playwrights dahling! puts back of wrist dramatically to forehead) will attend one of three producing theatres, the Bolton Octagon, The Liverpool Everyman Playhouse and the Manchester Exchange. I hope it comes off and I can negotiate the demands of travel by privatised over priced train travel cos at the end I should come out of it with an M.A which means then that my Mental Health Diagnosis will mean nothing because I will have Mastered the Art of Mental Health. I'm sure that being a Manic Depressive will be an actual benefit because I should be able to draw on all the dark places. Who knows I might even turn my true story of 'Psychosis' into a Theatre Piece. This would probably be a 'one man' show with yours truly as Protagonist. I hope to develop the art of dialogue, story and plotting should the M.A work out as planned. I know that there is no point a 'writer' having a room if that writer is not a reader. 'Readers rooms' are much more important.
You can read some of my work here! https://red-button.webs.com/