Flashback scene

The one where I performed at the Edinburgh Fringe

This article was first published behind a paywall in January, but in celebration of it being exactly a year since I performed at the Edinburgh Fringe I am publishing it outside of the paywall for all to read!

Edinburgh Fringe was the big goal that I was aiming for since I made the leap of putting pen to paper in 2019, in my early 40s. And I was bursting with pride, just for being there. For making it happen.

I can still remember standing on the Royal Mile an hour before I stepped on stage on 10 August 2023.

I don’t remember many times in life where I felt that same feeling. A feeling of complete ease. Obviously nervous. I hadn’t set foot on stage. I could dry up. People could laugh. In the bad way. People may walk out or yawn or be rude or roll their eyes or check their watch. I may forget my words. I may mix up the order of the show and never get it back on track. It could be collosally embarrassing. But even with the inner monologue that was tucked in my head along with all the words to my show and extra poems for good luck, I felt at utter ease.

I wanted to be here. And I was. And it felt glorious.

As I entered the first venue I would perform in, I met some younger performers who were also going to be part of the same cabaret show. They had been there all month and had the air of people who had settled well into their routine of the Fringe. Unlike me, they were doing the whole month and this was just one of many open spots they were doing. They were kind and humoured me so well when I blurted out I was 47 and I had always always wanted to be part of the Fringe. I asked them to take my photo, which they did and I just felt another rush of ease. I didn’t care if I wasn’t playing it cool. I was excited. This is exciting. What the younger performers were doing was hugely exciting. I felt pride for these utter strangers who made me feel good about being excited to be there.

Look at me pleased as punch!

We got taken upstairs to the green room - again, massively exciting for me. A green room AT THE FRINGE - A DREAM! (It was just a room with chairs and clothing rails and sundry props but as someone who had only ever been an audience member at the fringe for the last 46 years this felt already like I had levelled up). I met the other acts who were on the bill that night, all comedians and I think the host - an incredible drag artist called Uma Gahd - was a little worried about how a poet would play to a midnight cabaret crowd. I was too - but figured if I can play Blackpool (which I did in 2022) I can handle this. And in that moment I changed my set from a preview of my show to basically any poem in my locker with any humorous angle. And then hammed that all up when I performed. The other acts were all so well seasoned and polished and talented which increased nerves but also my desire to entertain. To prove to myself and the audience and my…. * checks notes * peers?!! that I was good enough to share the stage with them.

I tried to take it all in as I stood on stage but it was also a blur. I saw smiles, I heard laughter, in the right places and I held my own. I forgot to promote my own show and was too nervous to flyer the audience at the end, but I had shaken off the nerves of performance on a bigger stage to utter strangers. I went to bed elated.

Flyer-ing

The next day I had a new first to do. I had to flyer. I stuffed hundreds of them into my rucksack and headed into town. I headed straight to Royal Mile but I wasn’t fully ready to immerse myself in that attention competition.

I shuffled instead down Blair Street towards Cowgate - some where I know I have been flyered as a regular goer-to - and felt comfortable. I started tentative as if I was just doling out flyers for someone else. Not pushy and some people took them out of politeness. I was off the blocks.

Next I started a bit of patter, ‘can I interest you in a poetry show?’ which produced reactions ranging from school flashbacks (= absolutely not), laughter (= no way), polite acceptance of flyer with no eye contact (=exhausted at being flyered every second of the day), to actual interest and engagement, which was such a golden feeling.

When paid flyer-ers tried to flyer me I would ask them to take one of mine in exchange and poor things looked utterly devastated. I gained a huge amount of respect for their job and why people doing a month long stint would outsource this job as being your own cheerleader whilst on your feet all day before doing a show at night is genuinely exhausting. I enjoyed it as for me it was a novelty. I was only doing three nights so it was all part of the experience I had created for myself.

When I saw people in the room I had flyer-ed I was genuinely ecstatic. A lifetime achievement! I had said on an instagram interview with the First Fringies team before I got there that if I managed to do that with at least one person I would be delighted. And I really was. I have been to Edinburgh Fringe and been charmed, excited, felt sorry for people flyering me and I know sometimes I have been one of only a handful of people in a room and loved it, I have mainly loved the fact the people performing have created something and made it happen. And now there I was, joining in.

There was a time I flyered straight after one of my favourite comedian’s shows, John Robins. He often referenced poetry in his podcast with Elis James and his producer Dave Masterman writes a lot too. I thought this was a wonderful target market. The first time I went to flyer though was a Friday. Which as a loyal podcast listener I should have remembered is when he is on the radio and would not be doing a show. The second, and successful, time was when I watched his show the next day and rushed to the door at the end to flyer.

Social Media

Here I went for it. All in, like throwing jelly at a wall and seeing if anything stuck. I tik Tok’d - nothing stuck. I shamelessly tried to get Americans with a new found interest in Wrexham to come and see a show partially set in Wrexham. Absolute failure in tactic. Straight up HASHTAG ADS on twitter, Facebook and Instagram - but the algorithm killed them before they got off the ground at all. But then I started a set of tweets (or X as it became weeks before the fringe, all the more annoying when I had poems that referenced tweets) and accompanying Tik Tok’s referencing a team around me. Making clear that I was indeed all the characters in my team. These were just fun to think of and send and did generate genuine interaction which did lead to a podcast picking me up for a mini interview and some people promising to buy tickets - which they did. I also met other performers who sympathised with being their own whole team and we did our best to see each other.

My favourite tweet was this next one which I repeated on stage at the end of my final show. Every night I had noticed fireworks at the tattoo at the Castle filling the sky just above the Grassmarket where my show was. So I thought this little joke would be a fun way to end my short run. To say that as the festival is my biggest dream come true ‘my team’ have arranged a special one off fireworks display. It felt fun and clever. Except… the tattoo is not on a Sunday. And my final show was… on a Sunday. What a silly billy!

Fringe Artist experience

On day two I managed to get along to the Fringe Artist office to get an official looking lanyard. But better than this there was space to chill out away from the crowds, grab an irn bru and write. I needed to write as I signed up to perform at the Anti-Slam. An annual event to deliberately write and perform a bad - but funny bad - poem. I chose to become MC O’Yeah - my rap alter ego. I rapped of how hard it was to be understood as an up and coming rapper on the spoken word scene. It was frenetic and silly and joyful to do and all the other poets who took part were insanely talented at being deliberately bad. Which is an insanely talented thing to be good at.

I also got to take part in a show called the Bookish Comedy Show - where I took parts of my show about my ill-fated love of Spike Milligan’s poetry as a child. I had to explain cultural reference points for the overseas audience - but the room was packed and it was an absolute thrill to play to a packed room of total strangers who were there for comedy and did laugh and were entertained by poetry. I found the bravery to flyer after this gig which was in a room hotter than the sun !

The show!!!

I learned a tonne from doing the show itself. I had performed it several times before being in Edinburgh, in Manchester, Camden and Morecambe Fringes but the scale of this festival really elevated the experience. I genuinely couldn’t believe I was actually doing the thing. And I let my excitement and pride show.

Each night I got braver and added more sparkle and relaxed into the telling of the story. Holding pauses of emotion longer. Letting silliness be milked. Making more eye contact (as far as I could against the bright lights).

Each night there were more people too. Especially as I had got more confident in the flyer-ing. When I finished the show the venue team said they saw how hard I worked to get people into the show and for a non comedy show going against THE BIG VALUE COMEDY SHOW in the same venue at the same time was no mean feat.

I remember feeling wholly at ease with being the fullest version of myself. I was confident, funny, vulnerable, silly and honest. I was so proud in the moment and of the moment. Which is a rare feeling. And I will savour that experience, that sensation for a long time. I know that feeling is fleeting and I am lucky to ever have had it. So I feel no shame in writing of a sense of pride and accomplishment. I worked hard to make that feeling, that experience to become real and that was worth every moment of work that went in to getting me there.

What is next?

As I left Edinburgh I put on my Spotify Daily Mix and it played the gorgeous Porij remix of ‘’The Words to Auld Lang Syne”. The sunset was golden and Edinburgh faded out of my rear view mirror across the beautiful mountains surrounding the city.

I had been to Edinburgh every ‘hogmany’ and also never learned the words to auld lang syne but had a huge affection for the city and this song felt so poignant and glowing in this moment. I played it maybe 3 times in a row to enjoy the feeling of ‘all the tiny pieces falling into place’.

And they did fall so perfectly. I had a dream like experience. A dream I worked to achieve. I invested in financially, emotionally, creatively and with time and care. And that is enough to ever expect out of an experience.

So I have no next big plan. And that is lovely. I have space back. Things will, and have, fall into that space. And I will take care to carry on trying to create moments of magic into what comes next.

And I can’t wait to see what that might be.