Hello all, I’m Tom.
Blogging here is going to be a strange experience for me, considering I’ve failed to maintain several blogs that I’ve written independently, neglecting them to the point in which they look like the internet equivalent of the crumbling city from Inception. But that’s all in the past now, and as all victims of spousal abuse/sufferers of Post Traumatic Stress disorder are taught, it’s important to look towards the future (then let the boiling over trauma explode in a moment of dangerous psychosis against something unrelated to whoever or whatever it was wronged you). A somewhat macabre example there, but you get my point... I hope...
So yeah... Where to begin? As previously stated, I’m Tom, and as I’m awful at self promotion, here are some random facts about me you’re probably not interested in:
- I was born and raised in Brighton, a city famed for acceptance of homosexuality and multiculturalism, and yet also for teenagers in suits and leather jackets throwing deckchairs at each other. Also a stick of sugar with a word inside it. Woot.
- I’m socially awkward and not very good with first impressions, which I’m sure won’t hinder my professional life in any way at all.
- I tend to over-reference popular/internet culture, which is great if you understand what I’m talking about, but tends to make it sound like I’m speaking another language to people unversed in the wonders of Nyan Cat, Star Trek and Goatse (Google ‘em... Except maybe the last one, google that at own risk.)
- I’ve had a passion for writing since a young age, where I would invent characters, locations and stories to amuse myself, and distract from the pain and isolation of being a round faced, bespectacled child with a whiny voice and punchable puppy fat... I wish more of that sentence had been fabricated, really...
Right, blathering out of the way, I’ll try and log something relevant. I co-wrote Killing Bill Gates alongside Mechanical Tiger members Peter Fellows and Sam Hutchinson. I also feature as a moonlighting IT specialist/pizza delivery guy, Sam. This is the first play I’ve ever been properly involved in (aside from a long history of being too ugly to get any significant part in the school nativity performances), and for something that I have contributed to the writing process of to make it to the Edinburgh fringe festival is a privilege, however I try not to allow myself to get too theatrical in my praise (get it? Yeah, sometimes I disgust even myself). The fact that tonight’s preview in London will be essentially the first time the show is judged unobjectively by randomers is both thrilling and terrifying. 11th hour nerves are yet to kick in, but rest assured sometime within the next few hours I’ll probably reduce myself to a sweaty, shaky mess. I believe we’ve made it far enough to say without worthless ego that we’ve got something worth exhibiting, I just hope the audiences agree. Oh well, at least like so many conscripted young men going over the top at the Somme, or leaping out of a plane at Market Garden I’ll be potentially getting ripped to pieces alongside some of my dearest friends...
Peace,
- Tom x
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