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  • Writer's pictureDan Harrison King

14/48 Festival: 9-10-11th November, 2023. A Mini-Memoir...

THURSDAY NIGHT


Went to ‘The Y Theatre’. Everyone was in the… main auditorium? The stage? Seats? Whatever its technical term, it was just a sea of people, all of which, I don’t initially recognise. Either in this location or later on, I eventually do though… Allan Scotty Smith! I knew he was an actor, but didn’t think I would see him here. Not for any other reason, other than the thought never entered my mind.

      “Allan!” I said to him.

      “Oh god… It’s that guy from McDonalds…” He probably thought to himself.


      (Just as an aside, there will be quite a lot of self-deprecation going forward…)


      We used to work together at the fast food joint, in the 00’s. Back then, he had big hair and no beard… Now? The complete, literal opposite. Of course, all of the people from ‘Rough Draft’, I recognise. Paul, Hayley, and Hannah, the latter with their striking vibrant hair. Anyway, I sat down, and that’s when I started to write a diary entry for the day (Thursday 9th November), just to pass the time.


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Thursday, 9th November, 2023


Now it HAS been a long time… (in reference to writing in my diary) I’m at the 14/48 festival, at Leicester’s Y theatre… I don’t know anyone around, and I’m too shy/lacking in confidence, to start up a conversation with anyone. I know though, at some point, I will mingle with others… Hopefully. However, at the moment…? Wondering if it was a bad idea to come here in the first place.

      I’m doing this as a ‘Rookie Actor’… That’s what my name sticker says. So, as I’m writing this, someone sat opposite me. I thought it would be time to attempt communication… but another person just turned up, and they both left… So, I guess it’s time to get up, and try to mingle?


      Ok, sat down at table, and talking to people…


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      Just before the show started, I sat before two writers, named ‘Alex’ and ‘Dave’. Unbeknownst to me at the time (and to him), the former would be writing my Friday play:


‘A Pier in a Wave…’?

Or: ’The Storm that Shook the Pier…’?

‘The Night the Pier Fell…?’


I have the script in my bag… One second…


‘WHEN THE WAVES SWALLOWED THE PIER’


…and it was ‘Play no.3’.


      As the show started, to a parody ‘Star Wars Intro Crawl’, everyone started whooping and hollering… a mood and collective activity, I myself, was not feeling too keen to take part in (I’m very reserved in new public places). This was my first 14/48, I hardly knew anyone, and this was akin to a cult initiation. The names ‘Bob’, and I believe ‘Amy’, were included in the intro crawl, but I failed to register that they were the people I’d been emailing in the first place (via Hayley)! They were the ones that had given my arse a seat in the first place!


(By the way, when I said ‘cult initiation’, I meant some kind of nice, fluffy, creative cult, that felt so homely.)


(What my Friday and Saturday looked like)


      So, one of the veterans of 14/48: 'Neil' (whose name I forgot as I draft wrote this, but I remember he looked like ‘Shea’ from Sainsbury's (you won’t know who that is)) got up on stage and started proceedings. He went through the rules of the festival… some of which, I unintentionally broke… More on that later.

      As I’m writing this, I’m thinking back (obviously. Memoir), and I believe in the explaining of the rules, he brought up on stage: ‘Matt Beames’, to roleplay examples of rule-breaking situations. ‘Beamsy’ is the guy who wrote my Saturday play: ‘Not All Evil’… ‘Play no.7’. I remember the name of this one, off the bat, because I enjoyed working on it, and the fellow actors I worked with… Such a supportive, closeness-extruding feeling, including the director… I’ll get to them in a second… and the rules I unintentionally broke?… I'll get to them also.


(Ooo, I particularly like that first pointer...)


      So, after all the rules had been explained, including what I presume was legal stuff, artist liaisons, and safety, a prompt was pulled out of a hat: a black bowler, I believe... THE HAT OF DESTINY!


      The first prompt: ‘Cold. As. Ice.’


      The writers on my table began in earnest, taking notes. I’ve thought about how I would’ve approached writing an original, in such a short space of time, based on that prompt. I probably would’ve let the phrase ‘cold as ice’, sit in my ‘oven mind’ for a while, and hoped that some kind of finished product was starting to cook, before taking it out,  taking the film off, and stirring… metaphorically of course, but, I digress.

      So many people around, liberal as hell. Straight, gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, pan-sexual. Binary, non-binary, gender-fluid… Short, tall, large, small. Many. One person sprang out to me upon first seeing them. They (to me) reminded me of Rowan Atkinson’s titular character from ‘Blackadder II’: curly black hair, a beard, and an earring… more on them later.


      After the meeting concluded, I went to Sainsbury's (my place of work), to get a few bits. Major production vibes… I’ll explain. Back in  November 2018, I did extra work on the first series of ‘The Great’, starring Elle Fanning, Nicholas Hoult, and Gwilym Lee. Every day for five of them, I had to drive to ‘Belvoir Castle’ from Leicester City Centre, in the very early morning, to be on set (I'm sure some of you reading this will be familiar). Now, I had to be at the theatre at 9:45 am: actor call. Sure, the commute was now though was only a 10-minute walk.


(Me, an '18th-Century Russian servant, presumably at the Winter Palace?)


      Even though I was doing my own thing (getting some groceries), I felt connected to this aether of creativity, that was secretly dispersing throughout Leicestershire, and that had originated from all over: the next morning, we would all reconvene. When I did the extra work in ’18? Same exact feeling. I love the feeling. I just don’t get to do as much as I’d like, due to full-time work commitments…

      Saw driver Kev (not ‘Kevlar’, the other one (again, you won’t know them)) when leaving the store, and told them how I was “at the theatre, at the moment”. He probably thought to himself:

      “Oh, there’s Dan… the weirdo. He’s ‘at the theatre…?’ What in the fuck is he on about?”

      Got in the car, went home, and went bed… a little too late, if I remember. Either that, or I woke up way too early. Either way, I only had a few hours of sleep.




FRIDAY


9:45 am. Actor call time. Got there a little early. Everyone convened in the front room…? Foyer…? ...Bar? Where we do ‘Rough Draft’. Still, awkward… Still don’t know anyone, bar the usual faces. We go into the main theatre, and I begin another diary entry:


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Friday, 10th November, 2023


First acting day of 14/48… surviving on little sleep. But, the writers of the still unknown plays have had none. Gonna find out what I’m doing. Here’s a doodle whilst I wait…



They have started.


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      Hannah started the show. They were sat on stage, with THE HAT OF DESTINY! Sat around the room, are sporadic dots of writers, that have been up all night, wanting eagerly (I presume) to sleep. Proceedings start…

      “Play one… is written by NAME, is directed by ANOTHER NAME, and is for X people,” Hannah says, from behind a stage floor residing laptop.

      The aforementioned director goes to the front of the stage, and reaches into THE HAT!…

      “The first actor is…”

      The audience claps. “The second actor is…”

      The audience claps again.

      etc.

      Everyone claps, as the first play’s role’s assigning concludes. It has its writer, director, and actors, plus what time their ‘technical’ is. The second play is cast, in exactly the same vein… Now it comes to the third play…

      “Play 3 is written by Alex Roberts (remember the Alex at the table, the night before?), directed by Kyra Leigh, and is for two people…”

      Kyra goes to the front of the stage, and starts to pull the names from the hat…

“The first name is… Matisse ‘such-n-such’ (apologies Matisse, I’ve forgotten your last name)…

      Claps from the room, and the namesake holds their hand up. It’s the Blackadder-looking fellow!

      “And the next name is…” Kyra continues.

      “Please don’t say ‘Dan Harrison King’. Please don’t say ‘Dan Harrison King’.”

      “…Dan Harrison King.”

      So… I haven’t acted since I was a teenager (excluding music videos and short films), haven’t been involved in theatre since my early 20s (where I worked behind the scenes, in an amateur company based in Wigston), and now I’m in a play with only one other person… Oh, god.


(Me back in 2011-2012. LEFT: 2012, with Olivia, when I attempted to make a short film. Right: 2011, with Tom Brooks, working technical and production, on theatre for then 'Cross Street Entertainment')


      Talk about being thrown in at the deep end… I clapped along with the audience, sheepishly. After all the plays are cast (seven in total), I walk up to director Kyra.

      “Hi, I’m Dan…”

      “Hi, Dan,” they reply, in a comforting way.

      I get the names of everyone included, and write them on the top of my script. Alex the writer, whose name I remember from the night before. Kyra, as in ‘Kiera Knightley’ (though spelt in a cooler way), and Matisse, who I remember as in French artist ‘Henri Matisse’. The scripts are given to us… the characters are listed as ‘ONE’ and ‘TWO’. The configurations could’ve been one male, one female, two females, or two males. The latter was the result. I assume Matisse’s biological sex is male, regardless of their gender and pronouns (the latter of which they told me was ‘they/them’, which is fair enough).

      I peruse the script, and it immediately reminds me of Shakespeare… I made that comparison many times, probably to the annoyance of Matisse. I thought it was quite wordy, and its content would demand some heavy tapping into my emotional memory, to get the authenticity of the argument between two ex-lovers, which was presented on the pages. The gang went down to the sports hall, which I was surprised to learn was directly underneath the theatre space.

      That was a thing that blew me away. The Y Theatre, and YMCA combined… it’s like a maze! Like a B&B on crack! In there is a sports hall, some flats, meeting/conference rooms, a theatre, a bar, and changing rooms, along with other rooms that I didn’t get to see. Other newbies of 14/48 were getting lost. I don’t know if I have a good topographical brain, but I easily mapped the place and could find my way around the quirky maziness. I love the place.

      How am I going to remember all of this dialogue?” I thought to myself.

      Arguing though, I think I could pull off… I do a lot of that. I suggested a technique to the group, that I had picked up from somewhere at some point in my life (can’t remember from where, though), that would give us a feel for an argument, without any context. Matisse should only say “A” to me, and I should only respond with “B”.

      “A,” Matisse said.

      “…B,” I responded.

      “…A?”

      “B.”

      “A!”

      “B!”

      “A!-“

      “B.” I flat-out declared.

      Kyra liked this, and stated that they would use it at some point in the future.

      “I’m nicking your ‘A/B’ exercise,” they said to me, at the end of the night. 

      It wasn’t mine to begin with, but I’m glad I passed on something I’d acquired. My thinking of being thrown in at the deep-end, came to ahead during our rehearsal. I don’t like being touched in a ‘close’ way, by someone I’m not in a relationship with, let alone someone who I’ve just met. However, I had to remind myself:

      “I am not ‘Dan’ at the moment, I am ‘Two’… The fractious and perturbed lover of ‘One’… and they were united in a tumultuous relationship.”

      Also, there was the aspect that I’m only attracted to biological females (regardless of their gender/identity), so the context of this play was new territory for me. The words were so hard to get embedded in my cranium. Matisse, on the other hand, was great! I’ll get to their second performance of the night, later. Kyra, the director, was also great. Through my doubts and anxieties about delivering a worthy performance, whilst the script’s words were so hard to recall, Kyra was so supportive and understanding.

I resorted to writing keywords on my left forearm, hoping my Beatles musical tattoo would disguise the pen marks:


‘1. Nothing’ for “You leave me with nothing. Not even Memories.” My first line of the play (Didn’t have to look in the script, for that recall).

‘2. Meant’ for  “I meant what I said to you, and it is something I will do. Just not right now. I need to think this through.” My second line (I had to glance at the script, for that one).


      Given more time (and not the breakneck speed of 14/48), I’m certain I would’ve learned all the words, all the jumping-off points, cues, and other aspects that go into delivering a great performance. The first run-through of the play, before a live audience, I think, was abysmal… I forgot most of my lines, and my keyword recall strategy was not working. In contrast, Matisse was acting their heart out. So much so, I mistook their faux anger as genuine… Or maybe they were actually angry at me, for dying on stage. The first performance of the night ended early. Before the audience, we sat in front of the prop sofa, in silence, for the longest time. The band, unsure of if they should start playing, eventually did do so: a rendition of ‘The Sound of Silence’ by ‘Simon & Garfunkel’. PERFECT! APT!

      “We can pass it off, that that silence was planned!” I optimistically thought.

      We went to the dressing room, and I immediately apologised to Matisse… who seemed genuinely pissed at my performance. I didn’t know at the time, but Shannon (who would be ‘Electrospark’ in my Saturday play… More on that later) said she was almost moved to tears, and that our combined performances seemed so real… Hmm. I’m not saying she was lying, but… I knew I was hopeless up on that stage.


(I sat backstage at one point, in between other performances. I realised that I hadn't been taking any pictures... so I took this one. Spooky green light... Ooo)


      As I sat at one of the tables, speed-reading the script before my second performance of the night, Kyra offered me a hug, because I looked so downtrodden, I guess. I refused, but I actually did want one. I was starting to think my involvement in ‘The World’s Quickest Theatre Festival’, as an actor, was a big, embarrassing mistake… I was in way over my head. I was no ‘Allan Scotty Smith’! People though, were praising the first performance, and on the second, I have to give it to Matisse.

      I went up on stage with the script (I thought I could pretend it was an invoice or something? Paperwork connected to the box props, that I was sporadically riffling through on stage?). Matisse encouraged me to take the script up with me. Their reasoning was that they actually wanted to act on stage, so it would be best for me to be up there, script in hand, lest I forget my lines. I eventually obliged, after protesting that doing so would be “cheating” and “rule-breaking”, and as a result, Matisse didn’t hold back. They shook as they delivered the lines, were seemingly flooded with adrenaline, and were visibly close to tears. They gave a REAL performance, whilst I trundled through it.

      After all had concluded, I spoke to Kyra.

      “Today was difficult-“

      “No!” They interrupted. “You did great!”

      “…Thank you for saying so.”

      “It’s not easy to learn all these lines in only one day!”

      “…And it is wordy…”

      The conversation went something in the gist of that, but what I said next, I can remember verbatim.

      “Tomorrow, the ideal scenario would be you directing… and directing a larger play. Please pull my name out tomorrow! You have been so nice and supportive today.”

I outlined to Kyra, the absolute best case for me.

      “I’ll write my name on yellow paper, so you can spot it in the hat,” I joked to them.

      At the end of play 7, we all get on stage… The next prompt is picked:


“Go big, or go home…”


      “…Ooooooo,” everyone exclaims, as I presume the writers feverishly write that phrase down, plus any initial ideas that spring to their creative minds.

      

      I walk home (a 10ish minute walk), exhausted, and hesitatingly ready for the next day’s 9:45 am actor call.




SATURDAY


      More sleep this time. Shave, get changed, and make my way back down to The Y Theatre. Beforehand, a stop at Greggs… I recognise one of the actors from the previous day: ‘Graham Muir’ (who would be so hammy and fantastic, in their upcoming Saturday play).

      “What on Earth will I be doing today?” I kept wondering to myself, whilst continually wishing for a large, Kyra-directed ensemble. “Is it even worth me being here?”

      Same as the same time the previous day, plays had been written and submitted. Hannah, sitting on the stage once again, before their floor-dwelling laptop.

      “Play 1, is for X people, directed by…”

      All the while, the suspenseful, higher question music from ‘Who Wants to Be a Millionaire’, plays in my head. 

      “Any one of these could be my name, and this play (whichever one we were on), isn’t directed by Kyra…”

      The assigning continues.

      “Play 4…” Hannah continues. “Play 5…”

      “Have they forgotten about me? Surely my luck isn’t this good?”

      “Play 6, is…”

      My name has still not been uttered, and there's only one director left to be assigned.

      “Play 7… ‘Not All Evil’, written by ‘Matt Beames’, directed by Kyra Leigh, and is for four people.”

      “Perfect! Exactly what I wanted!” I celebrated in my head.

“      First name is ‘Doug…’” Kyra read aloud the pulled-out names from THE HAT OF DESTINY! Something I thought somewhat unnecessary, but a matter of formality.       “Second is… ‘Laura…’”

      Have they forgotten about me?”

      “Third name is ‘Shannon…’, and the fourth name is Dan. Harrison. King.”

      THE best thing that could’ve happened!

      I got up from my chair (after Hannah announced our tech time, and closed proceedings), and made my way over to Kyra.

      “YES! YES!” I celebrated out loud, but only to myself.

      My fists clenched with victory. As I was presumably flooded with dopamine. Part of me wondered (and as I write this, I still do) that the name-choosing was fixed, given what I said to Kyra the previous night. However, I don’t think they’d do that for someone they just met, let alone someone who had seemingly-obvious trouble remembering lines. Maybe it really was the luck of the draw.

      “Helloooo,” I said with joy, sitting down at Kyra’s table.

      Shannon joined, and so did Laura, both on the right side. These two, I had seen in plays the night before, but I had not spoken to them directly. Shannon was in a play about lifeguards, whilst Laura was in a performance about two competing ice cream salespeople, and… death… which was very strange. I mightn't though, have fully understood the premise. Doug, I spoke had to, the night previous. We talked about the Beatles, and I think that Friday 10th was also the day, the aforementioned band’s ‘final’ song: ‘Now and Then’, reached the top of the UK charts… I’m alive at a time when The Beatles have a number-one hit!

      Anyway, back to the story… Doug sat on the left of the table, along with ‘Beamsy’. A superhero play! Proper hammy, and not as wordy as my Friday’s script. More simplistic, tongue-in-cheek writing. Perfect… Scenery shall be chewed. As we made our way to a conference room in the YMCA (our day’s rehearsal space), this is where Shannon told me of her emotions, watching me and Matisse’s play yesterday. It’s amazing what hidden gems are sometimes in your own city. I’ve walked past the YMCA many times, and never knew this maze of rooms was here. The Percy Barratt Room had Large windows and short balconies, that overlooked the top of Granby Street, and the two large buildings near London Road’s train station.


(🎵 BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM * DRUMFILL * It's fun to learn lines in Peeerrrcy Barraaaattt! 🎵)


      We did a read-through of the script, and I instantly knew I would love performing it. The designers were making props and costumes, the band were rehearsing, and the tech were doing their thing. Everyone was getting on with their roles.

      “I am going to nail these lines, this time…” I thought to myself, with determination.

      With a few performances with the scripts, and Kyra’s blocking/direction, the play was starting to come together. Each of us, over time, added our own little improvs, which were incorporated into the performance: Shannon’s ‘Electrospark’ giving the finger to Doug’s ‘Doomwave’, when trapped in the light beam. My ‘Fire Kid’, following with two of their own, and being scolded for it by their master. The Obliviously, romantically-linked Doomwave, covering his intimate area, when trying to hide his tech and secret life, from the unexpected arrival of his girlfriend: Laura’s ‘Ms Sam Simmons’… In context, I swear that makes sense... During the final performance, Doug used a skull prop I had brought from home during lunch break and his groin-concealing actions got the biggest laugh of the night… Even Laura couldn’t help but corpse. The angle I was standing at on stage, I couldn’t see the action, so I was safe from involuntary giggles… I can’t wait to see the footage, when it drops.


('Electrospark' on the right there, chatting to 'Directa-Kyra'. 'Beamsy' is bottom centre-left...)


      Anyway, before the final performance, was the need for continuous rehearsing: lines, jumping off points, blocking, repeat. It got to the point, as the sun was going down early in the early-mid November sky, that we four walked in a circle around a table, mimicking some kind of human ‘ant mill’, whilst reciting the lines. Those outside, crossing the double-crossing near the station, must’ve had a strange sight as they looked into our brightly lit room, above the street.

      “What are they doing?” They must’ve thought.


(My ugly, round-headed tic-tac mug... sorry...)


      Costumes were ready, and it was time to assume our superhero personas. I had to don a sparkly, orange, 'Eyes-Wide-Shut'-esque eyemask, I put black eyeshadow on and around my eyelids and eyes, as Batman does, before donning his cowl. From that point on, every time Shannon saw my panda-like appearance, she burst into laughter. The rest of the gang had gathered in the sports hall, and my costume-clad appearance was quite a shock to them. What I was not too thrilled with, was my body. Even though I was wearing a girdle, to somewhat try and hide my belly, I still looked a state. I had been intermittent fasting, in the preceding weeks, and lost just over six pounds. But, by the time I put on the tight red top and inner-fluffy leggings, I must’ve put it all back on. I saw myself in costume in the mirror, and in the photo we took after our first performance… combined with my tic-tac head, only one thought went through my head:

      “…Ewww…”

      That, and I had to, at one point, stick my rear in the air, as I crawled on my hands and knees, across the stage. 'Fire Kid' had to activate a stasis beam, to trap 'Sam', whilst everyone else was preoccupied. But… it was there in that sports hall, that the greatest meme of the night, was conceived by Shannon’s suggestion: FIREFINGERS. For my superhero pose, It was suggested that I squat, face the audience, and wiggle my fingers, in an imitation of fire… the rest of the gang couldn’t stop laughing. I, on the other hand, was more worried about my leggings ripping (that would be just my luck). Graham Muir, at the end of the night, raved about firefingers… he loved it.


“YES! I love it so much! Squats and does fire fingers,” he posted to my Facebook cover image of Shannon, Doug, and myself during rehearsal.


(Yes, Fire Kid's boots were my very own!)


      So, the first performance of my second play… went fantastically! All of our collective anxieties beforehand, in the dressing room and stage door, were for nothing. There was a slight mess-up with timing, towards the end of the performance, but it was negligible.       We knew our marks, hit the beats, and got to the end, which is what Kyra asked us to do. We left the stage, victorious!

      “We smashed it!” Shannon said, with her lovely Scottish accent.

      We congratulated each other, took a photo, and made our way back to the stage, for the first performances of the night’s curtain call. I felt a lot prouder of myself, in that I actually knew my lines, and there was no script in sight… they were in the dressing room. And sure… I might’ve sneaked a peek, mere seconds before going on stage, like cramming before a final exam.


(Me, and the wonderful cast of 'Not All Evil'.. and KC photobombing us...)

      I do think though, we may have gotten a little too complacent, though. The second performance of the night did not go as smoothly. After Doug’s evil bad-guy opening speech, Shannon and I jumped on stage, from the right and left, respectfully. Shannon stayed silent though… she didn’t say her line. And her silence, wiped my mind of mine, as I wondered what was going on!

      “Someone speak! Someone speak!” I repeatedly shouted in my mind, as the silence continued.

      For the longest time, we were all just staring at each other, my in-character, accusatory finger, pointing Doomwave’s way, whilst the alarm sound effect continued to squawk. Doug jumped in, continued the narrative, introduced us in turn, and I did FIREFINGERS… the play was back on. We covered other mistakes with some improv and fourth-wall breaks… there was a real sense that this performance was more of a jokey take. I flubbed my last line of the night, referring to ‘Electrospark’ as ‘ElectroFLUX’. The highlight though of the second run was definitely Doug’s ‘skull crotch slam’, which broke himself, the audience, and Laura… and I can’t believe I just wrote that sentence.


      I enjoyed the whole experience, though not necessarily my performance on the first night. But the complete event? Yes. I met many like-minded creatives, and had a blast. At the close of the festival, standing up on that stage for the second curtain call of the night, I knew the downer would come. I knew it would be a big one. I knew I would have to scramble to find some kind of lingering remnant of dopamine, to mitigate the comedown’s effects.

      “…There’s always the next festival, but this one now is over…”


      All things must pass.


      There was a little awards ceremony in the foyer, at the end of it all. The rewards were charity shop trinkets and nick-nacks. After, I spoke with a few people, including Kyra, my co-stars of the day, and Matisse from the previous… I told them how great it was to work with all of them. And it truly was. Then, I made the short trip back home, not dissimilar to leaving a fantastic, two-day long party… and thinking how I could stave off that coming downer, as much as possible. Previous great experiences, and my experiences with my mental health, I knew it was coming. This mini-memoir is an attempt, to prolong, and prevent.

      I had had a great time, and was filled with ‘good exhaustion’… you know? The exact same feeling during, and after filming ‘The Great’. In the end, I had no regrets about my participation in ‘The World’s Quickest Theatre Festival’. My two-week break from work was also coming to an end, and this event was an almighty closer. I said to Kyra, at some point during the festival:

      “If I do this again, I wanna do it as a writer…”

      Having not acted in such a long time, this was mainly a challenge to myself, to see if I could perform. Having a short amount of time to learn, and perform two plays, twice a night, over two long days. All in all… I think I did all right. Inspiration though, was another thing I was looking for… Inspiration to finish my pending writings, and inspiration to finish the rewrite of my first written novel (not the one I’ve already published), for publication.

Being in such an immensely creative environment, seemed to pay off. I’m raring to go! And course, if I am to do the next 14/48 as a writer, I need to be match-ready. Two plays in two days, each written, proofread, edited, and submitted, in only a matter of hours?! Now that WILL be a challenge.


-Dan Harrison King


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Sunday, 12th November, 2023


First day back at work, after my 2-week break. WAS going to write a mini-memoir of events, over the past few days at 14/48, in my ‘wait time’…

      …But, some drugged-up/drunk driver, decided to have a major accident next to my van, as I was giving way to traffic. They hit the oncoming car, and two parked cars. The driver following, says they were swerving all over the road beforehand. It’s a miracle my work van wasn’t touched! No casualties, just shocked people, and the driver was put in the back of a police car…


Anyway… The mini-memoir.


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