On First Drafts, Editing, and the Real Work of Writing

“The first draft of anything is shit.”

--- Ernest Hemingway

A lecturer at St. Andrews has this quote hanging on her office door, as if challenging all the complacent undergraduates waiting in the hallway. I always found it vaguely encouraging, as much as anything by Hemingway could be encouraging. Maybe the chapter draft I just sent to my supervisor wasn’t all that great, but that’s fine. It’s a draft. It’ll get better.

I’ve never minded the idea of writing a bad first draft. I love things like NaNo, where you just write without worrying if it’s any good. I’m not a perfectionist, and the process of actually getting words down on paper has always been relatively easy for me.

But I’ve never been good at actually doing anything with those words. I’ve written five novels, and none of them have ever made it past a first draft. I’ve never actually polished anything until it was as good as I could make it.

With four of these novels, I know I made the right choice to move on. The first one was essentially a Tolkien fan-fic. The second was a mystery with plot holes as wide as the Northumberland Strait. The third was an international thriller with even larger plot holes and a rather dubious treatment of terrorism. The fourth was a YA dystopian, written just before Divergent was published and unfortunately left unfinished before the dystopian bubble burst. I learned so much from writing each of these novels, but none of them were worth polishing.

And then, after a six-year hiatus, NaNo 2016 produced my fifth novel, a futuristic retelling of Shakespeare’s Richard II. I wrote 119,053 words in 68 days, and then returned to real life (or, y’know, writing a PhD.)

The difficulty with this novel is that, nearly a year later, I still think it’s good. I still love the characters. I love the story. I even love the writing (some of the time…). For the first time, there are no major flaws.

But that’s the problem. For the first time, I have no choice but to actual return to my novel and edit it. I can’t just stick it in a drawer and write a new novel. I’ve got to actually edit this one.

That’s certainly not going to be easy. As much as I love it, I know the story has significant issues. The world needs to be more developed. The themes need to be more subtle. The emotional arc needs to be polished. Relationships between characters need to be clarified. Certain scenes should be added, others cut.

I’ve written five novels. I know how to hammer out a story in a few weeks. But I have no clue how to polish it. On a practical level, I literally don’t know how to begin.

But also, on an emotional level, I’m scared to start editing. Because once I start to polish my novel, then I’ll really know if it’s any good. Then I’ll know if I’m actually any good.

If Hemingway was right, if the first draft of anything is shit, then that means that the real work of writing isn’t in getting words down on paper. It’s not writing 119,053 words in 68 days. If Hemingway was right, then the real work of writing comes in taking those rubbish words and making them shine. And that’s something I’ve never done.

There’s a strange sort of comfort in not trying. The world is full of people who think they could write a novel, and they’ll keep saying that until they try and fail. I think I can edit a book, and get an agent, and a publisher… and I’ll be able to keep thinking that until I try and fail.

I don’t really think I’ll fail, not ultimately. I believe that with enough hard work, I’ll eventually produce something good enough to be published. But I can’t say that I’m not scared of all the rejection that’s undoubtedly going to come. The books I’ll try to edit only to find they’re really not good enough. The agents who’ll send form rejection emails. The publishers who pass. The readers who write bad reviews.

Right now I can call myself a writer and not have to face any of that failure. Except, to keep calling myself a writer, I need to keep moving forward. I need to move beyond what I’m comfortable with and start doing what scares me.

I need to start turning my gargantuan first draft into something worth reading.

Let’s see how this goes. 

The Stratford Festival

Myself and Elly with The Bard

Over the past week, I’ve had the privilege of spending two days in Stratford, Ontario, home to the Stratford Shakespeare Festival. While the way the town so blatantly copies Stratford-Upon-Avon in England is a tad amusing, it does an excellent job. There’s the gorgeous Avon River, complete with swans, a quaint high street perfect for window shopping, and a half dozen theatres hosting world-class performers. In other words, it’s pretty much my dream town.

By taking two trips with my friend Elly (who definitely deserves a shout-out for organizing and driving!) I managed to see four shows: Pericles (late Shakespearean comedy), She Stoops to Conquer (18^th century marriage comedy by Oliver Goldsmith), Hamlet (no explanation required), and Oedipus Rex (Greek tragedy by Sophocles). It was a rather eclectic mix, spread out over two thousand years and a variety of genres.

Hamlet, unsurprisingly, was my favourite. Pericles was beautiful and She Stoops to Conquer was hilarious and Oedipus Rex was intense, but Hamlet was all of these, and more.

Programs! :)

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the production. Hamlet is my favourite play of all time; I’ve spent countless hours poring over the text for essays and presentations, and I’ve watched the 2009 RSC production starring David Tennant nearly half a dozen times. I have full scenes memorized (just ask my grad school friends!) and I can pick out variants from the three different early printings. I’m more than a little bit of a Hamlet nerd.

The beginning wasn’t fantastic. The lines in the first two scenes were spoken so quickly I could barely catch them, and Jonathan Goad (as Hamlet) raced through soliloquies and spoke lines almost sarcastically when I was used to hearing them delivered in a melancholy tone. It also took me quite a while to get used to the Canadian accents—event though I’ve been back in Canada for nearly a year and my own British accent has long since gone, it was still weird to hear Shakespeare with a Canadian accent for the first time, since every other production I’ve seen, whether live or on film, had British accents.

But it got a lot better. Or, perhaps, I allowed myself to enjoy it more. I began to appreciate this new Hamlet, with his dry humour, and Claudius with his hearty laugh, and Gertrude with her slow loss of everything she loved. Over the course of the play I stopped caring about the accents or whether the actors fit my mental picture and just lost myself in the story.

Backdrop of She Stoops to Conquer at the Avon

I cried at the end. Not because I was so sad that Hamlet died, but because, just sitting in my seat for three hours, I had been through so much. In front of me, characters had lived and died, hated and loved, laughed and cried, fought and made peace, betrayed and been loyal, found forgiveness or died unrepentant. The whole of human experience had been played out there, directly in front of me, and I had been a part of it.

It made me remember why I love theatre, why I plan to literally spend the rest of my life studying plays from over four hundred years ago. It’s because the stories are timeless, because a good dramatist can create characters and plots and themes that are no less applicable now than they were hundreds of years ago. And also because, in the theatre, we can become part of those stories, watching the characters come to life in front of us.

Sometimes, when I spend all day at my laptop in a windowless office typing words that seem meaningless, I forget why I study English. Yesterday, at the Stratford festival, I remembered.

Days 247-251: Five Days, Five Shows

Last week was our second revision week before exams. Being the studious student that I am, I decided that the library was overrated and a trip to London would be far more fun. So I packed a bag and set off to enjoy four days of London's theatre.

The Rosetta stone at the British museum

Other than theatre, I also watched the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, which was rather disappointing. I stood there for over an hour and all I saw was  four groups of guards marching into the palace grounds and one group marching out. There were thousands of people there so I couldn't get close to the gates, or I might have been able to see more. Basically, I wouldn't recommend it unless you have tons of time to arrive super early and get a space right by the gates.

I also spent some time in the British museum and I think (after about four visits) I've finally been in every room. I loved the ancient Babylonian, Egyptian, and Assyrian statues-- it's just amazing how old and well-preserved the artifacts are. 

Now, to the five plays I managed to see:

Cats (New Wimbledon Theatre, Tuesday, £20 upper circle)
This production was only in London for two weeks and it was showing down in Wimbledon, which meant I missed the first twenty minutes because the tube journey down took so long. It didn't really matter, though, because Cats doesn't have much plot. Based on T. S Eliot's 'Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats,' it's basically a showcase of song and dance held together really loosely by the idea of the Jellicle Ball. While I was disappointed by the lack of a story, I was blown away by the quality of the dance and vocals.

Cats stage during the interval
(with Old Deuteronomy signing programs)

King Lear (National Theatre (Olivier), Wednesday Matinee, £15 Circle day tickets)
Starring Simon Russel-Beale, I had heard nothing but good things about this production of Lear. I was unfortunately in the very back row, so I didn't get a good look at the actor's faces, but I loved them all. Performed in modern dress with a rotating stage and a large military chorus, the show felt clean and slick, highlighting Lear's descent into madness and the resulting political chaos. 

King Lear's stage before the performance
(the moon was a projection, and they had it slowly eclipsed as we waited)

Birdland (Royal Court Theatre, Wednesday evening, £10 student circle)
Starring Andrew Scott, this play was the reason I went to London. I booked my ticket months in advance, since that particular performance had a talk-back with the cast and crew afterwards. The play followed rock star Paul (Andrew Scott) on his journey through fame, showing how it destroyed his relationships with everyone around him. Although the play itself was perhaps a tad too black and white (money=bad, real relationships=good) it was an intriguing look at fame, especially since half the audience (myself included) had only come to see Andrew Scott, who is himself dealing with unexpected fame. There was a fantastic scene where the character Paul declines to take a photo with a fan because he says that photos are like taking a piece of your soul... but after the show he took photos with a bunch of fans (myself included!) at the stage door. In that way, the play did a great job in implicating the audience in the devastating impacts of fame.

Moriarty! And Me! In the same photo! Again! :D 

Once (Phoenix Theatre, Thursday, £25 front row day seat)
Starring Arthur Darvill (Rory on Doctor Who), Once was absolutely adorable. The music was all played by the actors onstage, giving the whole production a homey, comfortable feel. The songs were beautiful ('falling slowly' featured several times- I hadn't realized it came from this musical). The story was poignant, and the actors all had incredible chemistry. Arthur Darvill was so cute that somehow his somewhat subpar musicianship made him seem even more endearing (I should note that he was better than I expected; he just didn't stand out in a cast of strong musicians). The female lead, Zrinka Cvitešić, made me love her from the instant she pushed past me to make her entrance. All in all, a beautiful performance, only enhanced by how I was literally touching the stage. 

So. Much. Adorable.
(the photo isn't mine- my camera ran out of batteries before this show)

Titus Andronicus (Shakespeare's Globe, Friday, £5 standing)
Seeing a show at the Globe was quite literally a dream come true. As a renaissance drama nerd, I've always wanted to visit the Globe, and stepping into the theatre was like entering a fantasy world. I was a tad worried about getting a standing ticket for a three hour show, and I've got to admit that it was hard on the feet, but the proximity to the actors made it so worth it. I was right up against the stage, placing me just inches from the actors. At several points they ran right through the audience or shoved us aside to make way for a triumphal procession. They utilized the space so well that I didn't mind the lack of lighting, a curtain, or the fourth wall. While I'm not a huge fan of the show itself- it's simply so disturbingly violent that I'm not sure it can be properly enjoyable- the actors all did a phenomenal job, and I was able to easily follow the plot despite not having read the play. Finally, during the bows at the end they dragged audience members up to dance across the stage, so I grabbed a hand and got pulled up onto the Globe stage! It was truly an amazing Shakespeare experience. 

Titus's triumphal procession through the audience
(this is also not my photo)

All in all, my London theatre week was everything I had hoped it would be. I packed in a lot, but not too much, so I was able to relax a bit and enjoy some time with friends on the last night. So much more fun than sitting in the library studying!

Day 144-148: Theatre in London

London. I can never get enough of that city. The energy, the vibrancy, the diversity, the Britishness... Just stepping off the plane put a smile on my face.

The National Gallery in Trafalgar Square

This time, I went to London to spend the weekend with Hannah and her friend Molly. We stayed at Molly's great aunt's, and I'd say it was the nicest place I stayed at on my whole trip. We had a guest flat in a large, modern glass building, in Chelsea (the posh part of London) right overlooking the Thames. It was a tad inconvenient to get to the tube (the nearest station was half an hour walk away) but a helpful bus ran right by the flat and into central London. 

At the Canadian Embassy- One foot in Canada, the other in Britain! :)

The point of being in London, as I wrote about here, was to get tickets to Coriolanus and Richard II, starring Tom Hiddleston and David Tennant, respectively. As I mentioned, we were only half successful, but I enjoyed the theatre experience nonetheless.

The stage at the start of Richard II

Firstly, Richard II was fantastic. Tragic, funny (the scene where they keep throwing down the gauntlet was flippin' hilarious), well-acted and directed, with beautiful musical additions... It was everything I had hoped it would be. Even without David Tennant, I would have loved the show. With him, it was basically the best first live Shakespeare experience I could have hoped for (odd, isn't it, that I hadn't see Shakespeare live before? What kind of English Major am I?)

The stage at the end of Richard II

Since Hannah and Molly were disappointed about not seeing Coriolanus, they had scoured the West End to find another show for us to watch that evening. Eventually they bought tickets for Agatha Christie's 'The Mousetrap,' which is the world's longest running play, going for 62 years and 25,498 performances. I really enjoyed the show, it was dramatic and funny and clever, and watching it definitely took the sting off of not seeing Coriolanus. We were just a tad depressed when we walked out and noticed that the Donmar Warehouse was right across the road. So near, yet so far...

St. Martin's theatre, playing the Mousetrap

Sunday was supposed to be an exciting day: morning church service at Hillsong, afternoon tea at Molly's aunt's, and evening service at Westminster Abbey. Unfortunately, I managed to get dreadfully ill with a fever/flu/cold, so I spent the entire day lying in bed, too knackered to even watch TV. By the evening I was feeling a bit better (probably because Hannah made me take a pill, helped down by a spoonful of Nutella) so I called my family and talked to them for about three hours before my iPad decided to quit. 

These lovely ladies dressed up for The Mousetrap;
I was still in a hoody and messy makeup after queuing at 6:50 for Richard II! 

On Monday, I took the four o'clock train back up to St. Andrews. It's really convenient how they have a train service directly from London up to Aberdeen, running past St. Andrews, so it only took me 5.5 hours to get back.

The Albert Bridge in Chelsea, where I went for a walk Monday morning

And that concludes my adventures. Forty days, eleven cities, countless friends and relatives and acquaintances... It was quite a time. I'm never going to forget this Europe trip.

Day 195: This Breathing World

It’s been over a week now since we performed This Breathing World, a student-written play which sets Shakespeare’s Richard III in a dystopian (almost Orwellian) future.

"Don't think of it as murder. Think of it as Political Removal."

I was cast before Christmas, auditioning with a few scraps of the script that the writer/director (a friend of mine) had pieced together. I admit I was a little wary of the project at first—would it be worth it to invest so much of my time and effort into such an odd play, especially when the script didn’t exist yet?

Then callbacks happened, and the script we read from (parts of which had been written just the night before) was fantastic. I immediately got a great sense of character from the script and chemistry from the other actors I auditioned with. I left the callbacks desperate for a part… and was absolutely thrilled when I was offered the role of Lieutenant Brackenbury in an email at about 1am that night.

"I may not be the one that makes the laws, but
I'm the one who enforces them."

Lieutenant Brackenbury was a fascinating character to play. She’s by far the strongest character I’ve ever portrayed—a sassy, gender-bent, powerful version of the conflicted character in Richard III. She’s important yet respectful, upholds justice but loves mercy, professional yet emotional… The writer, Catriona, really expanded on Richard III and made Brackenbury a proper character, not just a figurehead for the law.

The play itself was intriguing, concentrating on Harriet, Duchess of Buckingham (a gender-bent version of Henry Buckingham) and her reasons for helping Richard seize the crown. Together, they murder and manipulate their way into power… until Richard’s decision to kill the princes in the tower (his own nephews and the rightful heirs to the throne) convinces Harriet that what she’s doing is wrong. The play was an interesting look at doing the wrong thing for the right reasons and the disastrous consequences of “simply following orders.”

My character was the embodiment of the famous phrase: “All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” As the Lieutenant of the Tower, I had some authority, yet I used it almost unquestioningly to help Richard. I was the one who oversaw the execution of all of his political enemies, many of whom were innocent. I felt bad about it, I tried to help people, I nearly cried… but I never actually had the courage to stand up and say that it was wrong.

"My Lords and Ladies of Albion, on behalf of His Imperial Majesty,
Emperor Richard III, I would like to remind you that the Tower
complex is a secure area."

It was a hard play to perform, emotionally. When I act I try to get deeply into the character, to feel everything they’re feeling. In Brackenbury’s case, by the end of the play, this was complete and utter brokenness, a loss of faith in the empire, humanity, and herself. It was so hard to perform the execution scenes, acting as if I was allowing my friend to die behind me. After the act one finale, a particularly distressing execution, I had to run offstage and literally sob against the wall because that was the sort of emotion Brackenbury (and thus, I) was feeling.

I’m sad This Breathing World is over. I miss running around with my leather jacket and my space gun and my snazzy All-Seer jewellery. Still, I don’t mind leaving that dystopian future and returning to the significantly happier present. I loved taking over Brackenbury’s life for the rehearsals and performances, but the fact remains that I’d far rather be a student at St. Andrew’s than a lieutenant on the planet Albion. Acting is a wonderful escape, an adventure, but, after the last light fades, it’s time to live my life.

Day 160 Part 3: Coriolanus Review

Coriolanus was amazing.

After hearing so many good reviews and travelling all the way down to London for the show, my expectations were pretty high. Investing so much into seeing the show was definitely setting myself up for disappointment… but I wasn’t let down in the slightest.

The acting, of course, was phenomenal. Tom Hiddleston more than fulfilled expectations, making Coriolanus into a truly relatable character, both despicably proud and undeniably human. How he manages to stay adorable while covered in blood I’ll never know…

Mark Gatiss as Menenius
(apologies for the green glare- this is
a photo of a photo)

The supporting cast was certainly worthy. Mark Gatiss shone as Menenius, distancing himself from the role of Mycroft while still keeping the sly charm and just a hint of sass. I also recognized Peter De Jersey (Horiatio in the David Tennant Hamlet, also in Broadchurch and Doctor Who) and Elliot Levey (an absolutely miserable Don John in the David Tennant and Catherine Tate Much Ado About Nothing). The casting of one of the tribunes as female (Helen Schlesinger) took a little while to win me over, but by the end I was attached to all the cast.

The diversity of the cast gave the production an edgy, modern feel. With a cast of just fourteen, five were women (with two of these women playing multiple roles) and five were black (including two of the women.) Some reviewers felt that casting more women in a play that deals so heavily with gender (let’s just say that Coriolanus is a bit of a mama’s boy) obscured the issues the play addresses, but I thought that increasing the number of female characters made the questions of gender more relevant to a modern audience.

The stage before the production

Sound was used effectively throughout the performance. Although I think the performance wasn’t miked (I didn’t see any, and neither did my friends watching on National Theatre Live) I could hear every word, from the quietest soliloquies to the stirring battle speeches. Frequently the cast spoke in unison or recordings of crowds played, creating a sense of a much larger cast. Also, jarring music (almost a sort of symphonic heavy metal) played during the scene changes, contributing to the oppressive and edgy feel of the play.

The stage at the conclusion of the production (side view)

The set was deceptively simple, featuring a single ladder up to the ceiling, a back wall of brick, and around a dozen black chairs. However, the physicality of the play was fantastic—the chairs were slammed in time to music, thrown around, or arranged into barricades for the battle scene. Other objects, such as swords, were also tossed with astonishing precision. Heavy sticks hurtling across the stage, landing nearly a foot away from an audience member, certainly added to the intensity!

The shower scene. :)

The most remarkable aspect of the production, however, was how stuff was spilled on the stage. The play opens with Coriolanus’ young son painting a red square across the stage, creating almost a gladiatorial arena. In the first act, Coriolanus enters covered in blood, then proceeds to shower at center stage, screaming in agony as blood and water flow from his wounds and cover the stage. During Alfidius’ (Coriolanus’ nemesis) speech in the next scene, he spreads the blood across his face, and at the end of the play he allows blood dripping from Coriolanus’ death wound to fall on his head. Multiple times the stage is covered in falling rose petals or in torn up red ballots. As the lights dim, the stage is littered with various blood-red elements.

In short, I thought Coriolanus was brilliant acted, directed, and adapted. It was concise, visceral, edgy, and utterly enthralling. Despite having only two hours of sleep the previous night, I never came even remotely close to dozing off. Coriolanus was quite possibly the best performance I have ever seen, and, if they release the filmed version as a DVD I will certainly buy it so I can watch this show again and again. I may have come for Tom Hiddleston, but I left in awe of the entire production.

Days 158-161 Part 2: London and Back Again

If you had told me a week ago that I'd spend 27 hours on a bus, 20 hours queuing, and around £70 in order to see Tom Hiddleston and Mark Gatiss in Coriolanus, I wouldn't have believed you. Had I known how much trouble it was going to be before I set out, I probably wouldn't have gone. 

But I did go. And now, after seeing the wonderfulness that is Coriolanus, it was 100% worth it.

The plan was pretty straightforward. Take the bus down to London on Thursday, stay with a friend of a friend, queue Friday for Coriolanus tickets and then try to get Henry V tickets (staring Jude Law) on Saturday.

Sadly, Friday was an utter failure. Despite waking up at 5:00 am and arriving at the theatre at 6:00, there were still nearly forty people in front of me. I should have just gone straight to Henry V to queue there (it has a longer run, so it's easier to get tickets) but instead I decided to stick it out for Coriolanus. 

At 10:00, the box office opened and the line started moving... and kept moving... and we (myself and two American exchange students I met in the queue) actually started to have hope that we'd get tickets. But no such luck. When I was just 8th in line, they ran out of day seats and standing tickets.

So we joined the line for returns. This was nicer because it was inside, so I actually managed to get some stuff done (reading for class, memorizing lines for a play, writing blog posts about Europe). However, we waited all day but no returns came in until 6:30. They kept trickling in slowly up until the show started... and when the performance began I was third in line. So. Close.

I went back to the flat rather dejected and drank a cup of much needed tea before heading off to bed around 11.  I resolved to wake up at 2am... but my internal clock actually woke me up at 1:30. So I got up (amid severe doubts of 'is this really worth it?) got dressed, ran to the bus stop (the tube doesn't run that late/early) and got to the Donmar Warehouse by 2:20, where I found myself about 25th in line.

It was a hopeful position. On Friday 30 people had gotten tickets, and there had only been one show. There were two shows on Saturday, and fewer people in front of me. I was fairly certain of getting a ticket, assuming that everyone in front of me didn't buy two.

I waited in that queue for eight hours. In the cold. And the wet. I wore four jumpers and was still cold. When it rained, I shared an umbrella with an American exchange student who was right behind me in the queue. She was a theatre major, so having her to chat to made the time go by much quicker.

The Saturday queue (the box office is by the little red sideways sign on
the building on the right side of the pic; the end of the line stretched a fair
ways off the left side of the photo...)

At ten the queue started moving. Soooooo slooooowly. The line behind me stretched the length of the block. I tried to take comfort from the fact that if so many people were waiting behind me, there must be hope for me... but I started to be convinced that I wouldn't get a ticket, that I'd have to sit in the returns line again, or else go back disappointed.

But. BUT. I did eventually make it to the ticket window. And not only were there places left, but there were actual physical seats (not just standing places) left for the matinee. So I bought one. And I jumped and squealed and nearly cried. I just couldn't believe that all that waiting had actually paid off.

I went back to the flat, had a quick nap, showered, and headed back in for the matinee. Thankfully, despite having just two hours of sleep that night, excitement kept me wide awake. After all that trouble, I was going to enjoy that show.

And I did. So much. I'm pretty safe to say it's my favourite of all performances I've seen. It was funny, and tragic, and classic, and modern, and inventive, and so ridiculously well acted. I won't say any more now, bc this post is long enough already, but I'll blog in detail about the show tomorrow. 

I left the theatre so high on the show. It had completely emptied me, in a way, like any great tragedy should. I was so enthralled by the show that I couldn't focus on anything else.

Except for then I could, because that's when Andrew Scott showed up, making my fantastic day better than I ever imagined.

Sadly, the epic tale of Rachel's trip to London has a slightly depressing end. I had planned to take the overnight bus up front London and arrive back in St. Andrews in time for church on Sunday morning, but unfortunately, the bus had other plans. When we had just passed Carlyle (northwest England, right by the border of Scotland), the bus got a flat tire. So we sat there. For nearly two hours. Finally a replacement bus rescued us an took us to Glasgow where we were hastily allocated to different buses. After another transfer, I finally arrived back in St. Andrews early Sunday afternoon. Total journey time: 13.5 hours.

It was a crazy weekend, with more travel and less sleep than I've ever had (I think...) Tomorrow, I shall describe the play that made it all worthwhile...

Day 160 Part 1: How I Met Moriarty

Look at Moriarty. Then look at me. Then back to Moriarty. Then back to me.

WE ARE IN THE SAME PHOTO!

Yeah. Huge fangirl moment.

(To anyone who doesn't get the significance of this photo: go watch Sherlock. You won't regret it.)

Andrew Scott has got to be one of my favourite actors. He has such an amazing way of turning ordinary lines of dialogue into something memorable (remember "that's what people DO!"). I love how he covers such a range of styles, from quiet and creepy to full blown anger, often in just a few seconds. He can act out-of-his-mind psychotic and then go back to seeming completely normal. His versatile acting style completely made the character of Moriarty, so I really admire his work.

And I got a photo with him! :)

It happened as I was leaving Coriolanus (which I will talk about in MUCH more detail later- I think there are going to be about four posts titled 'Day 160,' since I just have so much to say.)

I was walking out of the theatre, my head full of how amazing the show was. A bunch of posters hung in the lobby with images from the show, so I was taking photos of them because, obviously, I couldn't take any photos during the actual performance.

I turned around to leave, and there he was. Andrew Scott. About five feet away from me, just talking to some people. (I heard Laura Pulver, who plays Irene Adler, was also there, but I didn't see her.)

I did a huge double-take. He just looked so ordinary. You'd expect Moriarty to be there with a huge fanfare and theatrics, but, no. He was just a normal guy.

At that point he turned and began to leave the theatre, walking right past me. I sprang forward and asked him what is likely the most intelligent question he has ever been asked, "Are you Andrew Scott?"

When he replied in the affirmative, I had just time to say that I really liked his Moriarty before we were out of the theatre and there were a ton of fangirls, cameras at the ready, hoping for a photo of Tom Hiddleston (who didn't end up coming out.)

Someone asked Andrew Scott for a photo, and he agreed. As soon as they were done, I asked, handed my camera to someone, and got that photo with him.

At that point a lot of people were asking for photos and autographs, so he sort of looked around and commented, "This probably isn't the best place to meet Mark" (meaning Mark Gatiss, who plays Mycroft in Sherlock and who had a fairly large role in Coriolanus). Then he went back inside, saying he'd come back out, but I don't know if he did because I didn't stick around.

I walked away from the theatre a little stunned, simply because I hadn't expected that at all. Had I had a chance to talk to Tom Hiddleston or Mark Gatiss that would have been less shocking, since I expected to see them (and I did, in the show, but I didn't get to meet them).

It was just so weird to meet Moriarty. Pretty much my favourite screen villain, absolutely brilliant and psychotic and creepy but charming... It was so weird to have him be right there, so ordinary, and so pleasant.

The most bizarre thing was that, despite how Andrew Scott is (obviously) a very different person from Moriarty, his voice is exactly the same. On Sherlock, he speaks rather softly, almost in a British sort of drawl. I half thought that was just a character voice, but no. He sounds exactly like that in real life.

And that is the story of how I met Moriarty, which just made the whole experience of seeing Coriolanus that much better. Also, I learned that Andrew Scott is staring in a West End play in April-May, so I think another London trip is in order...

(P. S. I'll be talking more about Coriolanus and going to London and the general craziness of my trip in some future posts over the coming days. To those of you who aren't friends with me on Facebook, this probably seems a little out of the blue, but I promise, details are forthcoming!)

Day 146: Back in the UK... and Queuing

(The proper British experience- a queue)

I'm currently sitting in the Barbican theatre in a queue of far too many people, waiting for tickets to David Tennant's Richard II. My friends Hannah and Molly are probably at the Domar Warehouse (a smaller theatre in the West End) queuing for tickets for Tom Hiddleston's Coriolanus. If all goes well, I should get to see both today, one matinee and one evening. At very least I'll get to see Richard II, since I'm currently person forty in the queue, and they have sixty day seats.

All this theatre madness means, of course, that I'm back in the UK. London, specifically. It's fantastic to be back here, to have all the signs in English, to hear the British accents, and to be in a semi-familiar city. I may not have spent much time in London, but I definitely know it better than Budapest!

The strangest thing, actually, has been the language. It's been almost as jolting as when I got home from my Quebec trip- I was so used to hearing another language all around me, to not being able to read signs, and to speaking slowly when asking for directions from a local. Getting back to all-English was an unexpected shock. 

It's also funny how London feels so homey. As soon as I got off the plane, almost literally as my toe hit the tarmack, I felt like I was back where I belonged. The little happy voice started chattering in my head, and I immediately began talking in a British accent. I picked up a bit of an accent over Christmas, lost it while travelling, but as soon as I got back to England, even before talking to a single British person, my accent was back. 

I'm in London until Monday afternoon, hanging out with Hannah and Molly at this really posh flat in Chelsea, a nice area in west London. It's been great to see my friends again and I love getting to visit London with some other people. Hannah is also into rather different things than I am, so we're going to a lot of different places than where I went last time. If this was my first time in London I'd be disappointed that we weren't going to the famous sights, like Big Ben and the London Eye, but since I've been here before it's nice to see new stuff. 

This queue is ridiculous. It's now 9:30, which means I've been here for over two and a half hours. There are likely about twice as many people behind me as ahead, meaning that there are about 120 people waiting for day seats... about twice as many as there are seats. I have no idea why people near the end are still here. I suppose it is the last day the play is showing, so they're probably just holding on to the vain hope that someone will return a ticket. Still, it's another hour until the box office opens, meaning they'll probably be waiting for nearly two hours still only to be disappointed.

(Later note: I got tickets to Richard II! Unfortunately, we didn't get Coriolanus tickets, but I probably would have picked David Tennant over Tom Hiddleston, if push really came to shove. As I post this, it's the interval between the two acts of Richard II, so I have seen David Tennant! So much excitement!)

Days 81-85: London Sightseeing

*drumroll please*

Now, from the dark cave of Revision Week, from the midst of studying, I bring you... the final blog post about my London trip! I apologize for it being so late, but I had to sort through approximately 500 pictures to bring you the 70 best ones. Enjoy!

Since I've already covered  the West End shows and Doctor Who convention, I'm going to finish up with a post on some of the sightseeing I did in London and general thoughts about the city and my trip as a whole.

Thursday was a big day for sightseeing because it was all so new. I decided to start out with a general view of the city, so I took a bus down to canary wharf (doctor who fans?) and then hopped on the Thames Clipper, which took me all along the river, under the tower bridge and up to Westminster bridge.

I spent the rest of the day (when not watching shows) walking around and snapping photos. I saw Big Ben, Westminster abbey, the London eye, the Globe theatre, Trafalgar Square, and I briefly toured the British Gallery, where I saw some pretty famous paintings (like Van Gogh's sunflowers).

One odd thing about London is that everything is either free (the British gallery, the museum, the library... etc...) or really expensive. To go up the Shard (a really tall office building) costs 25 pounds, and even going in Westminster abbey is 15 pounds. I ended up not doing anything that cost money (so I could save up for the theatre) and instead spent my time doing free things.

Another strange thing in London is that there are simply so many tourists there. I wasn't expecting many people to be there in late November, but on every street corner there'd be people with cameras, and I'm pretty sure no London native is going to be taking a selfie in front of Big Ben on his way to work. There are also a bazillion tourist shops, all selling the exact same items. Prices were somewhat reasonable, so I picked up a few gifts for my family.

On Saturday I mainly just walked around because I got rather lost trying to find Harrod's (a really high end department store) and so I ended up seeing some less touristy parts of London that I otherwise wouldn't have visited. Then on Monday I visited St. Paul's cathedral, where lots of famous people are buried (including the poet John Donne and the composer Arthur Sullivan) and which has absolutely amazing views from its galleries (my legs are still sore from climbing hundreds of stairs. I also briefly visited the British museum (which definitely warrants another visit... or a week of visits) and the British library, which is an English nerd's paradise.

In short, I saw a lot in London, but there's still so much I didn't see. I didn't visit the Tower of London, or walk over tower bridge (though the Thames clipper did go under it) and I didn't visit Sherlock Holmes house at 221b Baker Street. However, I plan to be back in London for new year's, then again at the end of January to see David Tennant and tom Hiddleston, and then possibly again in the summer to see some performances at Shakespeare's globe... so I think it's okay that I didn't see everything on my first visit.

The train down past Edinburgh-- got some lovely ocean views

Train for London! :D

Cliffs of Scotland (or northern England... not sure where the border was)

Newcastle,  I believe

A pier at Newcastle... Rather St. Andrew'sish

London tube (people were looking at me really oddly when I was taking a photo)

My bedroom. Have I mentioned that the people I stayed with were fantastic? So kind and welcoming.

Canary Wharf. Still not really sure what it is, but there were a lot of people running around in suits.
No Daleks or Cybermen, though. I was disappointed.

Bridge at Canary Wharf. You can see the Shard and other famous buildings in the distance

London Riverline

I took the Thames Clipper down to the city centre. Expensive, as public transit goes, but worth it for the view.

"Sweet Thames, run softly 'till I end my song
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud nor long"
--- T. S. Eliot, The Wasteland

Tower Bridge! We went right under it, but I need to visit it up close another time.

The Shard (and various other buildings whose names I don't know)

Trafalgar Square!

British National Gallery-- home to some famous painters... and Zygons...

Trafalgar square... super busy even in November

Some large archway on the west side of Trafalgar Square

The other side of the archway (since I know you all wanted the full view)

Everyone seemed to be really excited that the heron was around.
I was more interested in the London Eye and the British flag in the background.

Duckies

"I heard the minx remark
She'd meet him after dark
Inside St. James' Park and give him one!"
---- Gilbert and Sullivan, Iolanthe

Lovely monument right outside Buckingham Palace

Residence of the Queen. She, unfortunately, did not make an appearance.

Oh, hey there, Buckingham Palace...

Most British photo of life

Big Ben, and part of the Parliament buildings (I think)

The entrance to Westminster Abbey (not the prettiest bit)

The front of Westminster Abbey (much prettier)

Big Ben! And the London Eye! ALL THE BRITISH!

Any idea what this is? Any guesses? No?

Thames river when standing on Westminster Bridge

Nope, I take back what I said earlier. This is the most British photo of life.

London Eye

More London Eye

And (wait for it) more London Eye
(apologies for making that LOTR reference twice on this blog)

The Dome on the left is St. Paul's cathedral... but look how many bridges there are!

Shakespeare's Globe. :) I didn't properly go in because tours are expensive, and I figure that I'll come back to see a play next summer anyways

Police Public Call Box!

Trafalgar Square... at night! (well, really, it's probably about 6pm... but that counts as night this far north)

And Big Ben looks even cooler at night

Christmas lights EVERYWHERE

Some random white houses... this is when I got lost south of the West End and just wandered around for awhile.

Harrod's! Super cool department store, but way too crowded with tourists.

No idea what this is, but it was pretty.

Wellington Arch (I think... don't really remember)

Memorial of those who gave their lives in the Great War.

Trees. Sun. Happiness.
The parks in London do make great places to walk through.

Piccadilly Circus! (I think... Pretty sure this is where the opening sequence of Sherlock is filmed. But honestly, I was a bit lost at this point, so I'm not quite sure where I was)

Selfie by the fountain in Trafalgar Square... great place to stop and journal for a few minutes.

Random giant rooster in Trafalgar Square. I don't understand.

The view south when standing on that giant monument in Trafalgar Square.

CANADA REPRESENT

Feed the birds...

And feed the birds in Portrait...

And the birds come down with their wings dramatically sun-tipped...

The river flowing through St. James' Park

Leicester Square at night (vue cinema is where I saw the Doctor Who episode)

Not quite sure what this is called... but it always shows up on TV shows.
The church I went to was right around here.

St. Paul's Cathedral

London skyline from the middle of St. Paul's three galleries (several hundred steps up)

Mordor...
(I admit to editing... but I couldn't resist...)

SO MANY BRIDGES. AND BOATS. AND RED BUSES.

One of St. Paul's spires

Spiral staircases on the way up to the highest gallery

Such a fantastic view

The poor little Globe, so surrounded...

Mordor again... I need someone to photoshop Sauron's eye onto this pic

The front of St. Paul's (see those spires? I was up higher than that)

I didn't find the Muffin Man... :'(

Covent Garden Market (didn't stay for long, just sorta ran through)

British musem

Roman Emperors. I think one is Marcus Aurelius, but I can't remember which. The odd thing is that the one on the right looks exactly like one of the guys in my Beowulf class...