The first contact comes from a Facebook Friend, zeitgeistily enough. I did a couple of his open mic nights last year, so why don't I put in for some slots at the Free Fringe?
Why not? Is he mad? I'm 46 this year, a married, father of one, bearded,
speccy Council lawyer from Fife. That's not why James suggests it to me of course, but that's one way of looking at me. In fact, it's the only way most people look at me.
Besides, Writers' Bloc, the performance spoken word group I'm a part of, avoids the Fringe every year, preferring to keep our 70 + audiences at the Canon's Gait pub to ourselves at other times of the year. Am I in love enough with my ego to go solo?
February I look at the slots left on the Free Fringe and lob something in. The Free Fringe seems to have proper Fringe venues and everything.
To my surprise, my bid for three spare dates and times is accepted along with a cheque for £20: apparently the only fee I'll have to pay, as Alex Petty, the Free Fringe organiser, says I don't need to be in the Fringe programme. Can this be right? My suspicious legal mind scans the small print. Isn't putting on a Fringe show meant to bankrupt you?
March I decide my show needs music, to break up the spoken word. I begin the search for a singer for the songs of Venus Carmichael, legendary/mythical Scottish 70s singer-songwriter.
April Still no joy with singers, contacted via Facebook Friends. Decide my photo, which shows my disembodied head floating next to a mic in the dark, may be puttting them off.
May Gavin Inglis – fellow Writers' Blocer, multi talented performer, musician and all round good bloke – puts me in touch with Kelly Brooks, front woman in tribute band Gentlemen Prefer Blondie. Much time I would normally spend writing is spent faffing about on Facebook, creating 'events' and uploading audio to MySpace site. Convince myself this is all essential. Meantime, look at my back catalogue of stories and poems. Discover some of them now crap.
JuneFirst music rehearsal with Kelly. Not sure who's auditioning who but I'm nervous as hell. Fortunately Kelly, who's seen me perform with Bloc, knows me as more than a disembodied head floating next to a mic in the dark.
Over the next 8 weeks, the music begins to fly and I find myself writing new songs which don't sound like something out of Bob Dylan's paper recycling.
July Edinburgh begins to emerge from its Presbyterian chrysalis. Leaving a work meeting in McDonald Road, halfway down Leith Walk, I encounter two huge English boys with a fake axe trying to flyer an elderly resident of the local library. He dodges them, expertly.
More shows fall into my lap: Bloc are doing a show as part of the new West Port Book Festival, and I'm asked to do one of the Story Shop slots at the 'official' Book Festival. I become insufferable at work.
I go to the City of Literature salon evening in the Wash Bar, meet attractive, creative people and give them all my promotional bookmarks. Then I get the train back to Fife.
12 AugustThe days of rehearsing, writing, rewriting, daydreaming at work and faffing about on Facebook are nearly over. Wednesday's my first gig at the Jekyll & Hyde. Will my stuff be good enough? Will anyone apart from my mates and bewildered work colleagues turn up?
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Andrew Ferguson perfoms at Laughing Horse @ Jekyll & Hyde, 13 August, Edinburgh International Festival Bookshop, as part of the Story Shop series run by Edinburgh City of Literature, 14 August, Pageant Men's Outfitters, 14 August, Laughing Horse @ Espionage, 17 August, and Laughing Horse@Jekyll & Hyde, 20 August.