Thirty Life Lessons

Recently I turned thirty (“Whaaat? But you look so young!” Shush, that’s enough). I have heard two things about this next decade:

a) having experimented in your twenties and tried on many hats (figuratively, but, in my case, literally), you have a better understanding of who you are.

b) if you sleep in an awkward position once, you will be in pain for the rest of your life.

Now, I’m barely one month removed from reaching my fourth decade, so I cannot objectively assess either of these things. However, it would have been impossible to have passed three hundred and sixty months without gaining some opinions on how to do life.

Here then, entirely unsolicited and by zero existent demand, are thirty pieces of advice I try to live by.

Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted.

Our lives are made up of racing and rests. It’s okay to take a break and scroll your phone. Doing nothing is as important as doing something “useful”. If we’re always productive, we will burn out.

Prioritise you and your health over everything and everyone (source: my current supervisor)

It is okay to cancel a DnD session if you have a headache. Your friends would rather postpone an event than you attend disengaged, exhausted, and aching.

If a crucial part of your company’s service would collapse in your absence as you’re a loadbearing employee, that is not on you. They need contingency plans and a more flexible structure in place.

You cannot look after others if you do not look after yourself. To this end…

Use your holiday leave and take time off work (especially if you live in Europe where you are entitled to almost a full month of annual leave a year!)

If you must have career regrets on your deathbed, make sure it’s not that you should have worked more days. Sporadic Bank Holidays and the Christmas break are not enough rest stops in the year to refuel you. Take time off for weddings, vacations, gigs (watching or performing), seeing family, or just pick a random day for a nice day out. Most of your memories should be made outside of work.

That said…
 
Work socials are crucial

If your workplace is anything like mine, your group chat is dominated by talk of scheduling, meetings, logistics – you know, the fun stuff. The times our teams feel closest to falling apart is when we discuss only that. We forget we are friends as well as partners and colleagues in an enterprise.

This is why we need the Friday night hang. The Christmas do. The pet pics on WhatsApp. It reminds us we are more than cogs in our shared machine. We are humans with lives and we like each other.
 
Not all friendships last forever

Sitcoms would have you believe teams stay intact for eight years. These shows usually end when found families part ways.

Some of your friends will leave the city - or the country. After uni, you may find some bonds were based purely on geography or a shared space or purpose. Not everyone in your life will stick around but the ones you endeavour to keep around and, equally, those that actively work to see you, they will be with you forever (or as long as you enjoy each other’s company) because…
 
It’s not what you do that matters, it’s who you do it with

A spa weekend could be stressful if your mate is ticked off. Two weeks in a sunny clime can be nice but your standout memory may be the messing around at the airport.

Some of my best birthdays were not built around events where we get to places at specific times. They were relaxed low pressure hangouts where we looked for something else when we were ready.

And I’m not anti-plans. I’m a rules-loving man who loves A Routine. If we’re meeting up though? Let’s just chat and goof around! Also…
 
Don’t obsess about the pictures

I reached a point where I would be at an event and be thinking of how great the photos shared on socials afterwards would be. This is no way to live.

What cured me of this mindset was pictures never arriving (turns out life can go on just fine without snapshots of me on a stage or at a do). Or worse – images came but there was no single perfect shot. I looked odd or a friend was squinting or it was otherwise unflattering for one of us so it was kinder to not share it.

Not everything has to be marked with a picture. By all means, let’s get a group selfie when we meet, but I accept now that not all meetups will result in a new album on Facebook. After all…
 
Not everything has to be #content

Being online all the time has encouraged us to share everything. In the absence of jokes or insight to offer, the easiest thing to post is things from your life. Whether there is any value to doing this (for you or anyone else) is rarely considered. You need to feed the content machine. You don’t exist if you do not constantly dispatch missives from your world.

I think it is fine to put everything on the web if you want. But what little I have to report, I’ll just share with friends.

Similarly…
 
No one needs to know you didn’t enjoy something

There is more than enough snark on the internet. In lieu of sharing something from your day, one sure-fire way to generate #content is to dismiss something. Denigrate someone’s looks or talent. Write off a movie that SUCKED.

It’s easy. Does it make you feel better? The dopamine hits of reactions may but they are fleeting.

The cliché is true – if you cannot say something nice, do not say anything at all. If I hated a show, you will never hear a word about it from me. However, if I adored something or appreciated an element of what they did, I’ll pass it on. I only put out recommendations.

Wouldn’t you exude that energy? Be an advocate and…
 
Enjoy things unashamedly and wholeheartedly

I find it endearing when a friend is a fan of something to the extent it forms part of their identity. I can only dream of being so into something that the sight and thought of it brings you intense joy.

Granted, if your passion of choice is harmful, immoral, or illegal, I’m less inclined to encourage it, but otherwise, GO FOR IT. Buy the t-shirt, attend the convention. Decorate your life with what you like as…

It’s not a useless or frivolous purchase if it sparks joy (again, granted, unless it’s harmful, immoral, or illegal…)

Look, you don’t need a soap dish that looks like a lily pad (that said, now I’m picturing one, that does seem delightful). If it will make you smile every time you see it though, it is totally worth it.

It’s your money, your choice. So start that collection!

My vice? Blind bag of Lego minifigures. I don’t buy them constantly – I’m keen to ensure they remain a treat rather than routine – but if there’s a series or design that I like, I’ll buy one. I, quite literally…
 
Delight in the small things

When I am on holiday, I take shots of my friends, but most of my pictures are of punning shop names, interesting museum plaques, or baffling graffiti.

It is the little things that stand out. The most inspiring speech may stir a crowd, but if the speaker’s voice accidentally cracked on the word ‘action’, you can bet that’s all I will recall.

Paying attention to details is a crucial quality for most jobs, but such awareness is important generally to ensure you always see interesting stuff. Focus and it will pay off. That applies to speaking too…
 
Have one conversation at a time

One valuable lesson I learnt from practicing improv is that talking is not a competition. It is far more fulfilling to discuss one topic than taking it in turns to introduce your tangentially related anecdote.

I would rather we chat about one thing instead of several even if I have little to offer on a subject. If I ask questions that I am interested in getting answers to, I will never get bored, plus I might learn something. Not sure about this approach?
 
Try it, you might like it

Ah, another irritating bit of homespun wisdom – and all the more annoying because it is true.

In my life, this initial reluctance has applied to pizza (hot bread topped with vegetables mixed with cheese? Sounds weird); table service (don’t make me talk to strangers!); customer support (don’t make me talk to angry strangers!).

As it turns out, pizza is great, stepping out from behind the bar to write down some food orders really helps my colleagues, and customer queries can be like mini mysteries to be solved! Albeit cases where the answer is often ‘it’s THERE. You already have it. You’re just looking in the wrong place!’.

You may actually enjoy bungee jumping, but you will not find out until you leap off the platform.
 
It’s healthy to break routines

Being comfortable is not always good. You cannot stay in a hot bath forever because you will wrinkle and the water will go cold. Some conditions must change.

After the world reopened, I continued largely working from home. I was able to convince myself that staying in permanently was great and sporadic video calls were an adequate substitute for offline human interaction. Being inside was safe and who doesn’t like being safe?!

I have since been convinced to leave my room and commute in a few times a week. I now enjoy the benefits of something crucial for any job: someone to rant with.
 
You need someone to affirm your shared experience

Whether it’s a sibling agreeing that aspects of your upbringing were stressful or a colleague co-signing your frustration that lunch break is mandated for 4PM, you need a second party to go ‘you’re right, that is weird’.

To vent instead of keeping in something toxic? It’s not just for noxious gases – it works for humans too.

If feeling heard is not sufficient, one possible solution to destress...

You need nights off (even from something fun)

Most of our day is spent at work, so naturally we’re desperate to make our nights worthwhile. That’s OUR time. We EARNT this.

Of course, your social life can be as draining as your job if you overschedule yourself. Just because you once agreed to commit Tuesdays to archery practice does not mean you are obliged to attend every week until you die. Grab an early night instead of your kit. Your body will thank you.

Speaking of slowing down…
 
It’s better to be late than The Late (source: my granddad)

People would rather be put out by a delay than mourn you because your haste meant you didn't check for oncoming cars before stepping out into the road.

Semi-related…
 
Work to your own timeline

I am thirty and have only recently found a stable job with office hours. Some of my Sixth Form peers are thirty and have houses / married / kids. Not only do we do things at our own pace, we may not have the same priorities.

Comparison is the thief of joy (source: Teddy Roosevelt). Work on yourself and you will be ready to, should you want it, get into a relationship or accept that promotion. To that end…
 
Continuity can be an achievement.

Continuing to stay in one role or keeping up a hobby takes work. If you find where you are at satisfying, you do not need to level up. Some of us are content maintaining our little corner of the world. I am happy helping run an improv jam. I am not looking to become an improv teacher.
 
It is okay to keep something as a hobby.

Self-explanatory.
 
Accept your limits.

My grandma reiterates in most phone calls that she thinks I should be an actor.

Here is the thing – I know I have a limited range. I can do happy-go-lucky naïve waif or dry reserved dogsbody. I could work on expanding beyond them, but those are my sweet spots.

Would I turn down a run at the Edinburgh Fringe? Well, no, but…
 
Question the Why of your desires

Playing at the Edinburgh Fringe seems to be quite a common career milestone among my performer peers. It is one I too occasionally covet, but when I consider the core appeal of that dream, it’s not the opportunity to be talent spotted nor the chance to bump into Them Off the Telly. No, it is the prospect of doing a show a lot of times. Which I can achieve for way cheaper at the Camden Fringe.

Not that I would ever discourage pals to head to Scottish stages. Not at all! If they want to…
 
Good for them. That’s not for me

Work a job with a purpose

Before I got my office job, I did a five-year stint as a restaurant bartender. I tolerated it in part because it was straightforward.

What do I do? Make drinks. How do I know I have done it well? The drink was correct and made quickly.

It was not anyone’s dream to be there, but you knew at the end of the shift that you had Achieved a Thing. It was also reassuring to remember that…
 
Nothing must be for forever.

I accept that some people's options for change are limited by their finances, location, or family circumstances, but those that you can control, you can change.

You can drop out of the Tuesday night archery because the long drive sucks. You can leave a troupe if there’s toxic people. You can quit your unfulfilling job if the buddies that made it alright have all moved on.

Sometimes stability is not a good enough reason to maintain the status quo. Things change...

People move on (so you have to be self-sufficient)

Relationships end. Friends move away. Your supervisor can change department.

Sometimes you will have to amuse yourself or be in charge of deciding what to work on. Make as many friends as you can handle but accept that sometimes you will have to make your own fun.

Here’s the good and bad news: no one is thinking of you (source: various, but most recently, this Pearls Before Swine comic)

You are a unique complex individual with lots of thoughts and commitments and chores. And so is EVERYONE ELSE.

So yes, you won’t necessarily be on people’s minds all the time because they’re BUSY. However, this also means they’re probably not dwelling on that embarrassing thing you did that makes you cringe at night.

If you want to keep them in your sphere, great! Get in touch, acknowledge the occasional social media post, wish them a happy birthday (only on the day, obviously). If you do meet...
 
Tell people how you are really feeling.

If asked ‘how are you’, instead of completing the ritual with the expected ‘not bad. How are you?’, I take a second, then answer honestly.

It’s important to know what energy or baggage someone is bringing to a room. I won’t know to be patient to someone if they did not tell me they had a bad night’s sleep.

You know why you might not sleep well? Pain, so...

Sit up straight.

You’re thirty, after all. You don’t want to fuck up your back.

Good for Them. That's Not for Me: Dealing with Other People's Success

Because I am not a monster, whenever I see someone announce a recent success, I think ‘well done’. My second instinctual response is far less wholesome. It is ‘now why didn’t I get that?’. Even if I had access to similar opportunities, I feel resentful that I missed out. Your win is somehow my loss. 

It is an ugly attitude of “they’ve got nice things. Why don’t I have nice things?”. Like a child put out that they do not get a present when it’s someone else’s birthday. 

What I rarely consider in that moment is whether I even want to be doing what they are doing. I also forget that I have my own nice things.

We should remember that often we do not know what people have given up in order to get their little victory. Marathon runners have limited diets and strict bedtimes. Any touring act misses a lot of weddings. 

Nor do we consider that the achievement is a fleeting thing instead of a perpetual plus. Anyone who wins an Academy Award has spent years being rejected, ripped off, and objectified. It must feel incredible in the moment. All your hard work paid off! You are guaranteed to make international headlines the next day. 

Within a year, your name will be just an answer in a pub quiz. 

It is important to remember that Facebook and Instagram are essentially people's highlight reels (Twitter, however, is a million anxious voices chronicling their stress in real time). It is a version of someone’s life that they have consciously curated, edited, and presented. You are not getting the full picture. Married couples still have fights. You do not want to know how many takes was needed to get that lovely family photo with the kids. 

I keep all this in mind whenever I see someone else celebrating. I try to face it with an attitude best encapsulated in a simple motto. 

Good for them. That’s not for me. 

In other words, I delight in my friends and colleagues reaching a goal. I have used the Love reaction on so many statuses that I potentially rendered the word meaningless and now need a completely different one. Or I have limitless capacity for love. Either/or. 

However, I not only recognise their significant achievement, but I also accept that I may not want it for myself. YOU go climb Everest/run a marathon/join that opera company. That's not one of my #lifegoals. While you chase your dream, I will be at home, content with my lot. You go after the Oscar. I’ll do the pub quiz.

Five Things to Know about Improv: what I have learnt from half a decade of making stuff up

I have now been an improviser for five years. In that half decade, I have taken shows to festivals, co-hosted one of London’s longest-running jams, and played so many talking animals that I am probably owed a visit from Doctor Doolittle. I have now seen countless hours of people making stuff up in pub theatres across the capital (and done a fair bit of it myself).

However, the intangible nature of the form means you always have more to learn. You are never a finished product. I have gained a little insight into the art though. Here are five important things I have learnt about improv.

Improv can make you a better communicator

Which, ironically, I was apparently unable to adequately get across in a job interview. Asked at a talent pool full of potential employers to give a two-minute presentation on something I was passionate about, I chose to explain why improvisation has helped me become a better speaker. Why I am now a more patient, less competitive conversationalist. How I focus on the topic being discussed instead of waiting to butt in with my own. That the discipline encourages you to discover the joys of collaboration.

Evidently, I made my hobby sound too engaging. The people who heard my talk told me it seemed whatever role offered me would be a consolation prize, second best to improv. One inquisitor said they used to enjoy painting but gave it up to pursue their office job. Which, to me, as a tragic summary of adulthood, cannot be topped.

I had explicitly stated in my opening paragraph of the speech I did not want a career in the art form.

Of course, even if I had wanted to make stuff up full-time, I could not because...

Improv is not a career

The most successful in-demand teachers and performers still hold down their nine to fives. Most people I know who perform at Edinburgh Fringe are freelancers or jobbing actors. I can count on one hand the number of London troupes big enough to tour.

The best way to make money in this field is teaching classes or doing running corporate workshops. It is extremely unlikely you are doing that daily, let alone making enough money from it.

Besides, if you take up your hobby as your career, what on earth will you do to relax?

Improv can easily become your entire life

Improv is moreish because you get instant affirmation, encouragement to make jokes, and an excuse to mess around with friends. It feels good to be with this community, so naturally you chase that high by doing more things with those people.

This can result in improvisers being the main people in your social circle. Even if your schedule is not dominated by rehearsals and shows, you will probably hang out with your fellow players as your go-to buddies. Although you are not technically performing while out and about, you may still be ‘on’, doing bits, and falling into shoptalk.

Improv should not become your entire life

If you do improv exclusively, then you’ll end up hating it, abandoning it, and having nothing to fall back on. Eat chocolate cake daily and you’ll soon grow sick of it. You need everything in moderation. To use Sarah Silverman’s maxim, make it a treat.

I am “lucky” in that the conclusion of my first improv course coincided with me getting a job which limited the amount of evenings I was free to pursue the form. This has meant I avoided overdoing it. Which I one hundred percent would have done for precisely the reasons I detailed in the section above.

I did come close to burning out though.

Once classes were done, my group kept meeting weekly to make stuff up. Soon we formed a team. Finding a format to work on gave our rehearsals focus. Then we developed a second idea which required its own evening to practice.

This meant we were doing a total of six hours of improv across two consecutive nights.

It was too much. The second session always suffered as we were exhausted.

Not only that, but one format did not play to our strengths. We always came in demotivated. We were struggling to master something we would never make work. Not realising the problem was that the structure did not serve us well, we instead ended up questioning whether we were actually any good at improv.

We eventually dropped that show in favour of the one that we were all psyched about. That is what saved us and the only reason why we are still going today. That love for our work has kept us going and yet…

Improv does not have to be for forever

When my team first formed, there were fourteen of us. Over the years, as is to be expected, people started to move on. Some left the community. Some left the country.

One person dropped out because the classes were a chance to learn something new, to get out of the house. They enjoyed the mucking around. They were not particularly interested in being a group that gigs.

Everyone finds their own point at which to stop.

Our group continued. We worked on a format, tried out a few drafts. We found one that works. For some, ticking that box and solving that problem was a satisfying way to end their tenure. They could walk away with pride. Ditto those who were part of our one hundredth ever gig.

I have not stopped.

It has been five years since I joined the community. It has also been almost five years since I started at my day job. I am attempting to find a nine to five so I can find a better work-life-improv balance, but until then, pretending to be a talking animal is a small part of my week. Maybe it is better that way. Perhaps in the future I will give it up entirely and pursue some other area of creativity. But, for now though, I will keep on painting.

How to Create a Scripted Podcast: Three Quick Tips

When I first started working on Dead Drunk Detective back in 2016, I had a couple of scripts, a vague desire to be on Radio 4, and an excellent producer in Podcast Pioneers. Four series later and I still have all of these, but with a little additional knowledge about how to create a show.

While few of you will be looking to produce a zombie noir sitcom (at least, I hope not or else we will be direct competitors), some people may be curious about how to start their own show. Which is why I thought I would share what I have learnt.

Here are my three quick tips for creating a scripted podcast. I am aware everyone's creative process is different, so, rather than get specific (“day one: what's the title?”), I have opted for general advice.

Plan stuff in advance but give yourself the freedom to discover things along the way.

Before I write episodes in full, I know each Case Of The Week that will solved by the detective. I will also have planned the overall season arc and have vague notions about the nature of the challenge posed by this year’s Big Baddie. However, the identity of that villain is usually something I discover organically. Maybe a character is so fun to write for that I want to bring them back. Perhaps their encounter with the protagonist in an earlier episode gives them a logical motive to want to bring about his downfall.

So, while I am a huge fan of planning and structuring scripts before you write them, the outline should be a safety net, not a cage.

Keep the amount of voices in a scene to a minimum.

While writing, you should be focusing on the script’s contents, but you must also remember to keep one eye on how it will eventually be produced.

Think what the recording setup in the room may be. You will probably be working with a small number of microphones, so scenes with a lot of voices will require cast to share or step in and out of range. While mildly impractical, you could make it work – producers can edit out any pauses or awkward shuffling – but if the script calls for too much of this, it could throw off the rhythm of the acting.

Characters with only a few lines – say, a waiter in a café scene – should be cut or be played by someone already in the cast.

Don’t announce the show until you’re late into the production process. 

This is just a personal rule of mine. Partly, it’s to do with ego - if a project collapses, then people won’t know you’ve failed - but it also means you can keep people engaged. Announcing the Thing close to its release date means your potential audience remember that it’s coming and know when to look for it. It’s easier to sustain momentum and excitement with ‘episodes start on Monday!’ than ‘new series coming Autumn 2021!’. Make your show a lovely surprise.

That's all of my advice. Best of luck to anyone creating a show! Unless it's about an inebriated undead sleuth. In which case, I'll see you in court.