Trash Goes To a 4Talent Day

22 Sep
4Talent Day Image

4Talent Day Image

“Most rock journalism is people who can’t write, interviewing people who can’t talk, for people who can’t read.” – Frank Zappa

Earlier this week, I boarded the 07:30 train from Edinburgh Waverley to Glasgow Queen Street. From Glasgow Queen Street, I went straight to Buchanan Street Subway Station, where I bought a return ticket to Govan. Less than 20 minutes later, I arrived in Govan, and despite nearly falling up the escalator on my way out of the station – yes, there were witnesses – I emerged, unscathed, nervous and only slightly tired, into a cold and wet Glasgow morning at 08:45 on the dot.

I was in Govan because in August, I had applied to take part in the upcoming 4Talent Day in Glasgow. I’d filled out my application with little hope, but I told myself that after the inevitable rejection I’d know that I’d tried my best, and I could go ahead and try something else. So, when I got the email saying that my application had been successful, I nearly fell off my chair.

4Talent Days are organised by Channel 4 and are designed to support people over the age of 16 who want to get into the creative industries. The purpose of a 4Talent Day is to nurture and inspire people by holding workshops, talks and giving people at the bottom rung of the media ladder the chance to speak to those at the very top. It makes the creative industries accessible and as open as possible to people of all ages and backgrounds around the UK, and gives all attendees a taste of life in the media.

Beginning at 09:30, after registration opened at 08:45, the day began with talks by Channel 4’s Industry Talent Specialist, Priscilla Baffour, and Head of Creative Diversity, Stuart Cosgrove; a dedicated Northern Soul devotee who is perhaps better known to listeners in Scotland as one half of Radio Scotland’s Off The Ball.

Their speeches were inspiring and energising as Priscilla discussed Channel 4’s “content revolution” about how creating and publishing content is changing, the history of Channel 4 and what they look for in applicants. Stuart gave an uplifting speech about his journey from the deprived council estate of his childhood, to his love of Northern Soul and how his passion for the genre opened doors for him.

There were many different master classes available, from radio production to music journalism, pitching documentary and factual films, to personal branding and how to get started in film making. I chose the music journalism master class with Sid Smith, a well-respected music journalist, and a man with a real passion for King Crimson.

While I have a lot of experience of writing about the arts, I’ve only focussed on theatre and film, and I’ve been thinking about music journalism for some time. However, despite writing some very brief album reviews at the beginning of my career – I think they were around 100 words – I don’t feel confident writing about music, and I want to learn how to write about music and more importantly, how to write about music with authority.

Sid was a fantastic teacher, and as well as discussing music journalism with us, magazine circulation figures, pitching, interviewing and the music which makes us cry (mine is ‘Don’t Speak’ by No Doubt). He also brought a room full of aspiring music journalists to shame when he asked when was the last time we bought a music magazine, and collectively, we looked at our feet. He also had us listen to a piece of music called ‘Joyful Reunion’ by Sweet Billy Pilgrim before phoning the songwriter, Tim Elsenburg, and having some of us ask him questions about the song there and then.

Sid gave us all a lot of advice, and he sums it up very well in his own blog post about the 4Talent Day in Glasgow. But I would add that the clearest piece of advice that Sid, and all the other speakers gave on the day was that young creatives need to have two things: discipline and persistence.

So, if an editor doesn’t email back within a few days, call them, introduce yourself and tell them what you do in 20-25 words. Research who you’re contacting and tell them what makes you different. Also, take what you’re doing seriously, be nice, polite and develop habits. Habits and discipline will keep you going, as well building a network of contacts. As Philip Edgar-Jones, the Head of Entertainment at Sky Arts put it, “Be persistent, but patient.”

The day was so inspiring, and as well as learning a lot, and getting some really good advice, I met a number of interesting people, that I’m hoping to keep in touch with, I gave out many, many business cards and I got lots of business cards back in return. But what the 4Talent Day was really good at, was making the creative industry seem more open, and more accessible than it ever has before. There was no mention of degrees or specialist qualifications, and it made you feel like you could have that career that you’ve always dreamed of. It made you feel that there are people out there that are interested in your story, and what you have to offer.

After a long but wonderful day, I headed back to Govan Subway Station – avoiding tripping on the escalator this time – and headed back to Queen Street Station. Once there, I boarded the 18:15 train back to Edinburgh Waverley, and as soon as I arrived in Edinburgh, I got my hands on the first music magazines I’d bought in nine years; Q and MOJO, before I heading home to read, research and think about my next step.

I would highly recommend a 4Talent Day to any young creative, and who knows, for me, it could be the very beginning of a brand new adventure.

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Crying in the Theatre

17 Sep
Image by JoeyBLS Photography, Shared Under a Creative Commons Licence

Image by JoeyBLS Photography, Shared Under a Creative Commons Licence

I was inspired to write this post after reading A Girl In the Dark’s wonderful piece, Crying On the Tube.

As Edinburgh doesn’t have a subway, and because I’ve never cried on the bus, I decided to write about the two times that I’ve cried, and I mean, the two times that I’ve really cried, in the theatre.

I’ve experienced a lot of different reactions to theatrical performances over the last few years, from giggling myself silly at the antics of Late Night Gimp Fight, to being incandescent with rage at Ontroerend Goed’s Audience. Good theatre should evoke a reaction from the audience, and even I am not immune to its power.

The first time a production turned me into a snotty, sobbing, heaving wreck was when I reviewed Jo Clifford’s Every One; a piece about death and grief that was based on the loss of Clifford’s beloved wife, Susie. The play looks at the death of the main character – a wife and mother – and examines at the impact of the bereavement from all sides, including that of the deceased.

As you might expect, it’s a highly emotional play, not just because of the subject matter, but also because the play was based on a true story, which made it more powerful. I saw the play six months after a good friend of mine had died suddenly, needlessly and far too young. In normal circumstances, six months is a long time, but when you’re grieving you’re on a different schedule to everyone else; you’re constantly trying to catch up in a race that you will never win.

As we neared the end of the first act, I could hear a few sniffles around me, as theatregoers doted about the auditorium cried. I remember that I had tears in my eyes then, too. By the end of the second act, it sounded like every single person in the auditorium was sobbing into their programme, including me. I cried, my then-partner cried, and the air in the building was heavy with sadness. The production created a mass outpouring of public grief, and we sobbed together as a collective. We cried and let go of some of the pain that we’d all been carrying.

It was cathartic. It was beautiful. It was liberating.

The second time was later that same year and occurred a few months after I had split up with my long-term partner. It was October, and I was trying to watch a production of Carrie’s War, and forget about the recent breakup. It’s quite a light-hearted play, but it has an underlying sense of guilt that resonated with me. I was sitting in the stalls and I was aware that the chair next to me, the chair my now ex-partner would have normally sat in, with his hand on my knee, was empty. In fact, the chair next to that chair was also empty, and so was the chair next to that one. In a theatre where everyone else was packed in like sardines, I nearly had half the row to myself.

These days I would be quite happy about having half a row to myself, but on that day I was unbearably alone in a venue where I had never attended without my ex-partner before. That night, as I sat isolated in the auditorium, the realisation that they weren’t there, that they were never going to be there hit me like a fist. I had failed because I walked away from the life we had built together. I had failed because I couldn’t fix our problems. I had failed because I was a failure.

I started crying over all that I’d lost in the past year; one of my oldest friends, my partner, my home and everything that I’d worked hard to create. I cried throughout the first act of the play, but managed to pull myself together for the interval, where I sat as still as possible and tried to look like someone who hadn’t been crying for an hour. Because if you sit still enough, I reasoned, no one can see you and if they can’t see you, they can’t ask why you’re crying.

As the second act began, and grateful for the darkness, I continued leaking hot, stinging tears sporadically like an old, cracked sponge. When the show finished, I left the theatre and I cried all the way home, taking the back streets so I could to avoid anyone and everyone on the walk to my cold flat that was now home. But that flat could never be home for me, because it was full of boxes that I couldn’t bring myself to unpack.

In fact, a lot of those boxes remained unpacked, because I moved from that flat to another one, and then on to the place I now call home. The place where I began to empty those boxes and grieve.

It was cathartic. It was beautiful. It was liberating.

Next time I cry in the theatre, I won’t be hiding it, I’ll just remember to pack some tissues in my bag. If you’ve ever been inconsolable because of a piece of theatre, let me know, I’d love to hear your story.

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Adventures in Editing Or How Editing Taught Me to Be A Better Journalist

13 Sep
Editor Image by dave pike, shared under a Creative Commons Licence

Image by dave pike, shared under a Creative Commons Licence

Recently, I marked the end of an era. Earlier this month I stepped down from my role as The Public Reviews’ Scotland Editor, and passed the responsibility onto my successor, the more-than-qualified and very talented, Lauren Humphreys of Glasgow Theatre Blog.

I began my role at The Public Reviews straight after my three-year tenure as The Journal‘s Theatre Editor, and after four years of commissioning, editing, publishing and generally looking after other people, I decided that it was time to look after me.

So, in May this year, I told my boss, Editor John, that this Fringe would be my last as Scotland editor. There are many reasons for this, but the main reason was that I longed to have more time to write. I’ll miss the perks of getting editor’s choice on shows that I really, really want to review and I’ll miss ranting about the innumerable bad PRs that littered my inbox like discarded shopping trolleys on wasteland but, I need to write, and I want to be a better writer.

However, my time as an editor hasn’t been for nothing. I’ve learned so much, not just about my own writing, but  also managing people, and dealing with truly terrible PR pitches. Working as an editor for the last four years has taught me so much about journalism, communication and other issues.

So, here are my top 5 lessons that I believe that everyone who aspires to be in the media should learn.

Read Your Emails

I proofread and sense check my emails to ensure that what I’ve said is clear and easy to understand. However, there are those that don’t do this, and their emails usually consist of unclear demands, spelling and grammatical errors and bizarre sentences.

After they hit send I have to try to translate the bloody mess they deposited in my inbox, which I don’t enjoy, and I usually email them back and enquire about what it is that they want. Use punctuation, have a clear message and tell me what you want, I don’t have the time to second guess anything.

I don’t know if there was something in the water in Edinburgh in August, but I encountered a few writers who weren’t reading my emails properly. At the beginning of the Fringe I sent out a link to a spreadsheet for writers to fill in with their ticket requests, which was designed to stop any double bookings and make the whole process as open and transparent as possible to everyone involved.

One writer started trying to book tickets for shows that we’d already reviewed. When I emailed them and asked them to look at the spreadsheet more carefully, they emailed back asking, “What spreadsheet?”

Another writer got confused with the spreadsheet, and thought I was allocating shows to specific people and that they’d missed out. If they’d read my email properly, they would have known that this wasn’t the case. Another writer double booked a show because they didn’t pay attention to the spreadsheet, which clearly stated another writer had booked a ticket to that performance.

If you want to get on the good side of your editor, it’s a good idea to read every single email you get from them at least once. If you’re not sure about what they’re asking, email them back and ask them to clarify.

Respect Boundaries

From weddings, to illness, to engagements and the old trope, computer problems, there are many things that conspire to stop a writer filing their copy on time.

I’ve heard nearly every excuse in the book, and while I understand that writers have lives and they might get engaged/married/be too busy planning their wedding to file copy by deadline, I have the venue breathing down my neck, so all I care about is the review.

I know that sounds heartless, but editors have a job to do, and a publication’s reputation to uphold, so their investment is in the article. I’m friendly with my writers and count some of them as friends, but I’ve found that it’s odd how easily people will open up to you when you’re in a position of authority. It’s good that they feel they can be honest with you, but sometimes, when you’ve only had a handful of emails from someone, and suddenly they’re telling you about how they split with their partner/lost their job/their dog died and that’s why they’ve not been answering emails, it’s just a little too much.

Just say you’ve had some personal problems, your editor doesn’t need to know any more unless it’s something that they can help with or if it’s something that will affect your ability to write for the publication in the long term.

Enthusiasm Means Very Little

Enthusiasm is great, enthusiasm and drive is what got me to where I am today. However, in my experience, when I have encountered a writer who has been overly enthusiastic about writing reviews for me, alarm bells have gone off in my head immediately. Because that kind of energy never lasts, and it usually hides something else.

The first enthused writer turned out to be a prolific, or to use the nickname given to the late Sir David Frost, a “bubonic plagiarist” who couldn’t write an original piece of work if her life depended on it. She was also studying journalism, because wonders never cease.

The second super-anxious writer had my back up from the very beginning; he sent me a link to his portfolio, but had not made it accessible online, so he then animatedly cornered me at a press night, telling me how much he wanted to review for me. However, without my knowledge or consent, he was also submitting the reviews he sent to me to another site, which meant that we couldn’t publish them without permission from that publication, or we would be accused of plagiarism.

When this was explained to the writer, he said: “Well, I knew it was a grey area…” It’s not a grey area, it’s very clear, so never assume that you know something: if you’re unsure, ask the editor.

Another seemingly passionate writer was so excited to be reviewing during the Fringe that she claimed that she nearly fainted with excitement when she passed one of the Fringe venues before the festival started. Her emails told me how delighted she was to be working at the Fringe, until suddenly, after reviewing 5 shows, she emailed to say that she couldn’t review as something had come up.

A few weeks later a theatre company contacted us to say that this writer had booked to see their show (not to review it, but as a paying member of the public) and had asked for a refund. Unfortunately, during this email conversation, they mentioned that they were a reviewer, which made the company defensive, as it sounded as if the writer was trying to use their reviewing status to get their money back.

I don’t think they were trying to do this, and it could be that because of their lack of experience in the industry that they naively thought this it would ok, but they reacted very defensively to my emails asking them about it. They refused to explain anything and they told me I’d handled the situation very badly and demanded to be taken off our reviewing team.

After this, I kept the enthusiastic ones at arm’s length. It’s usually the safest thing to do for me. Be keen, just not overly keen, because it doesn’t last.

Assume Nothing

I know that I’m repeating a point I made earlier in the post, but if I could give new writers one piece of advice, then it would be this: never assume, always ask for clarification.

If you’re booking your tickets, and you’ve not heard back from the venue, don’t assume that the tickets are there, phone the venue press office and ask. This will save you time and energy later on.

If you’re not sure about something an editor has asked you to do, email them back and ask again. I would say that most of the problems that I have had to deal with as an editor have stemmed from people not being clear and doing what they think is right, not what is right. Remember, your editor was new at this once too, email, call, text, tweet, just get in touch with them and ask.

If you have not heard from your editor, email them again and reconnect. Inboxes fill up quickly, so you need to keep pushing yourself to the top of the pile. Don’t assume that an editor has asked you to do something, or wants you to do something. Email and ask.

The Editor Is Not Always Right

Despite appearances, editors are only human, they aren’t infallible, and they make mistakes. However, unlike writers, editors have a lot more responsibility on their shoulders, and have to consider a number of issues.

The editor’s word is final, so arguing with them is not always a good idea, but if you feel that they’ve made an error, you have the right to reply. I was once a little heavy-handed when editing a review, and the writer sent me a very strong email, arguing that they refused to be “censored” and other words informing me that they were really very cross about what I’d done.

We eventually came to an agreement, and they were happy, but I stand by my initial thoughts that a synopsis should never be two paragraphs long, ever.

However, and I cannot stress this enough, don’t argue with the editor when you’re applying for work, because the editor knows the publication they work for better than you, and gets emails from people like you everyday. Persistence is a great trait to have, but don’t take it too far, and remember to be thankful for any feedback that you get, because in this industry, you won’t get very much.

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Dear John Bellany

28 Aug
John Bellany Image by Robert Perry

John Bellany, Image by Robert Perry

Dear John,

We never met, but when I read of your death earlier this evening, I knew I had to write this letter.

I’m not an artist; I gave up on drawing after a classmate made fun of my clown drawing in primary school. “Amy,” she spat, with real venom, “Your clown has six fingers on one hand and eleven on the other.” It wasn’t good enough, she said, clowns had five fingers on each hand, she explained. So, I’m going to honour you the only way I know how to, and that is to write about how your words have affected my life.

You received an honorary degree at my graduation in 2009. You were the second person to receive a degree, the first being Jonathan Mills, the Director of the Edinburgh International Festival, but his speech was, dare I say, very, very boring.

I was starting to drift off with my degree certificate sat smugly on my lap when you stood up and slowly moved to the front of the stage. You fumbled with the papers you’d written your speech on, you seemed nervous. “Oh dear” I thought, “It looks like we’re in for another dull speech.” And I prepared myself for a long morning.

You began by thanking the university and launching into a speech about looking out from the stage to all the young graduates assembled. But then, you paused, and uttered the now immortal words, “Well, if I’m honest, I’ve forgotten my glasses, so all I can see is darkness.”

The audience laughed; we cheered, we giggled, I think there was even a round of applause. You had won us over with your confession. You were honest, you were on our side. You cast aside your speech, and launched into what can only be described as something truly extraordinary. To call it a pep talk would be insulting; you were preparing us for battle.

As you gazed into the darkness of the theatre, trying to make out the faces of the hundreds of graduates gazing back at you in awe, you said that we were going to come up against barriers once we graduated. We were, you assured us, going to experience having “…many doors slammed in our faces”. But, we were not to be disheartened, you said, instead, we were to pound on the doors that would be slammed in our faces. We were to pound on them repeatedly, until our knuckles bled. I remember you held your hands up, and squeezed them into tight fists as you punched the air, your eyes screwed tight, pounding on all the doors that had ever been slammed in your face.

I can remember imagining a nondescript pine door being slammed shut as you smashed the figurative doors that had stood in your way for years. It’s the same pine door that I see now when I get yet another job rejection. It’s the same pine door that closes when an editor tells me I don’t have enough experience. It’s the same pine door that rattles in its frame as it slams closed when a promising internship turns out to be another dead-end.

But whenever that nondescript pine door has smacked me in the face as it closed – and it’s been closed to me so often, and it will be closed to me again – I’ve heard your words. And suddenly I can see you again in my mind’s eye, on that stage, slamming your fists into your own imaginary door over and over again.

So I started knocking; I would ask that editor for feedback. I would pound my fists against the door; I would look for new opportunities and ways to build up my portfolio. I would start to smash the panels of that door, one by one and then I would pick myself up and try again.

I’ve never been in a fight, but my knuckles have been split open and bloodied many, many times. You taught me that when you go out into the big bad world, you’re not always fighting other people; more often than not, you’re fighting with yourself. Battling self-doubt and a lack of drive is hard, but that’s why they call it work. More than anything, persistence is key.

I’m sorry that we never got the chance to meet, if we had I would have thanked you for your wise words, and I would have told you how much they meant to me on the day I graduated, and how much more they mean to me now, just four years later.

Thank you, John. Thank you for speaking to a sea of excited and unsullied graduates that day. Thank you for showing us that you’d been there, that you knew the struggles that we would face and for giving us all the advice that we will never forget:

“Always do your own thing. Don’t follow trends. Be your own person.”

Thank you, so, so much.

Yours sincerely,

Amy Taylor

Class of 2009

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PR Post Mortem: The Best of EdFringe – Part Two

22 Aug
Image by Manic Street Preacher, shared under a Creative Commons License

Image by Manic Street Preacher, shared under a Creative Commons License

As the Edinburgh Festival Fringe draws to a weary close, I’ve been busy not just reviewing, but also compiling the very best (read, worst, definitely the worst) of the EdFringe PRs that I’ve received over the last few weeks.

So, without further ado, here is PR Post Mortem: Best of EdFringe Part Two:

What’s My Name?

Hi guys! [Um, hello. That’s uh, that’s not my name.]

Just a little message letting you know our brand-new comedy, [Show Name] is currently in a run [In a run? Where’s it going? What charity is it running for?] at the Fringe until 24th August. We’d love it if you could come along and review us! [Exclamation Mark]

Seems a strange time to email, but I’ve only been switched on to your publication [And what publication is that?] and I really liked having a peruse through your site. [Say my publication’s name. Say MY name.]

Hope to see you there, if you can make it! [Why did you put an exclamation mark here?] Don’t hesitate to get in touch via phone or email.

Peas & lurve, [WHAT]

PR Numpty

Journalists Live in Scotland, Too

Hi Amy,

I just wanted to get in touch to see whether you still have reviewers at the Edinburgh Fringe this week? [Well, I live here, so yes, I do.]

I just wanted to make a couple of recommendations for review [I have a feeling these recommendations will be biased] if any of your team would be available, these are [Show Name and Show Name]

I’ve attached press releases for more info [Oh Goody] on these as well as a list of all the shows I am looking after in case the others should be of interest also.

Thanks and best wishes,

PR Numpty

Review Our Amazing Something

Hi Amy, [Hello!]

We are working on this amazing online piece which is taking place on Monday [Great, what is this piece?] throughout the day and I wondered if there is any way of putting a link to it on your site at all? [You want me to link to a project I know nothing about?] Or if one of your reviewers would be interested in spending the day with it? [Spending the day with it? What is it?]

[Website Link]

Hope all’s fine and dandy. [Well no, it’s not because this email tells me sweet Fanny Adams about your ‘amazing online piece’.]

Px [A kiss? Oh no, wait a minute, I remember this guy – it’s 22 attachments guy!]

Well, If You Say Please…

Pleasereview these shows … [Pleaseuse spaces]

Thank you! [Wait, that’s it?!]

Mx [Another kiss? Why I outta…]

[The show details were below the text of the email. No, thank you.]

Not An EdFringe PR, But…

Hi – I thought your readers may be interested…please let me know! [You know nothing about my readers]

As the Carnival approaches this week on August 25, I thought you might like to use this great interactive infographic [Oh no, not another infographic] from [Promotional Business Gift Website, yes, that’s right, a PROMOTIONAL BUSINESS GIFT WEBSITE]

Since its inception in 1966, the Notting Hill Carnival, held in August annually, has grown into the largest street festival in Europe. Did you know that a record 1.5 million people attended in 2012 and it brought nearly £100 million to the London/UK economy? [No, and I don’t care]

· History of the event: Was originally a ‘Caribbean Carnival’ aimed a smoothing over race relations following the Notting Hill race riots the previous year. [A ‘Caribbean Carnival’, eh?]

· Entertainment/Celebrity Elements: High-profile artists such as Eddie Grant, Wyclef Jean, Courtney Pine, Jamiroquai and Burning Spear have participated [Yes, I know what the Notting Hill Carnival is, thanks]

· Top Trends in Food: Caribbean street food is one of the highlights of Notting Hill Carnival dating back to its roots. Turkish, Chinese and Indian are also popular. [Am I eating the food? Will I get to eat the food? No? Well then, I don’t care]

· View the graphic: To learn more…[Nope. Nope. Nope.]

If you plan to use the infographic we would love to know and ask that you please attribute a link to [Promotional Business Gift Website, who clearly want a link more than anything else]

Thanks,

PR Numpty

What They Did Right

  • Two of the PRs used my name
  • That seems to be it

What They Did Wrong

  • Exclamation marks – why?
  • Not knowing that me and most of my writers are based in Edinburgh
  • Not using my name
  • Not using the publication’s name
  • Unclear/undefined projects
  • Kisses – we are NOT friends
  • Lack of spaces
  • Begging me to review shows
  • 22 attachment guy getting in touch again
  • INFOGRAPHIC

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So, You Got a Bad Review…

17 Aug
Image by pressthebigredbutton, used under a Creative Commons License

Image by pressthebigredbutton, used under a Creative Commons License

“I don’t care what is written about me so long as it isn’t true.”

– Dorothy Parker

The human animal is a fallible beast; we are hypocritical, egotistical, emotional and vulnerable. We don’t like being criticised, and when we are, we get defensive.

If you got a bad review, or a review that you’re not entirely happy with at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe this year, or if you got a bad review anywhere else; I’m sorry you got a bad review. I’m sorry you’re angry, and I’m sorry you’re disappointed.

So, what do you do when faced with a bad review of your work? Here are some ideas that will help you feel better and perhaps even work a bad review to your advantage – without pissing off the writer/publication.

Get Someone Else to Read the Review

One of the first pieces of advice that I’m going to give you is after you’ve read a negative review of your show or your performance, then ask someone close to you to read it.

Getting another person’s perspective on the review can allow you to look at the article in a different light; it could make that sentence that you felt was pretty damning seem reasonable, it could point out if you’ve actually misread something.

Sometimes even just talking to people about your bad review can be helpful, and also cathartic, so speak to someone you trust and get their perspective on the review, it could really help make you feel better.

Contact the Publication

You have every right to contact a publication and ask for a mistake to be corrected. Minor errors, such as spelling mistakes, factual errors, etc, can be easily corrected, and most publications and editors will be more than happy to correct them when they are pointed out.

Case in point; I reviewed a production of Wondrous Flitting, a Lyceum Fringe production, in August 2010. In my admittedly negative review, I said that the show was a co-production between the Royal Lyceum Theatre and the Traverse Theatre, because while it was a Lyceum production, it was staged at the Traverse.

A day after it was published, one of the Lyceum’s press officers sent me a very polite email, informing me that Wondrous Flitting was not a co-production, it had been created solely by the Lyceum, and was only staged at the Traverse. As soon as I was informed of my error, I corrected it, and apologised to the Lyceum, who very graciously accepted my apology, and didn’t even mention the fact that the review was a negative one.

I had made a simple error, they informed me politely, and I was happy to change it, because errors like that are not only embarrassing for the company, but embarrassing for the journalist too.

When to Ask For More

There are instances when a company may be within their rights to ask for the publication to review the show again, either by sending the original reviewer, or a different writer.

For example, last year, I was contacted by an editor that I know well, he asked me if I would be able to review a show that another critic had reviewed a few days previously.

This critic had arrived 15 minutes late to a show, and for reasons known only to them, be it deadlines, or the wrath of the editor (who is actually a very nice man) they decided to write a review of the show despite missing so much of the piece.

The first 15 minutes of this show, or indeed, any show, is very important; it introduces the characters, and explains the way the show is structured. The critic missed this, and wrote a very negative review, which the performer was understandably not happy about. They complained about the review, and the editor decided to send a reviewer that they could trust, which in this case was me.

When Not to Contact

If you have legitimate reasons for contacting a publication to complain about a review, such as the errors listed above, and you ask politely, then any good editor will go out of their way to help you and to attempt to make the situation better for both you and them.

However, not liking a review isn’t grounds for asking for another reviewer to be sent to the production. You have every right to have a grumble about a bad review, and you always have the right to reply, but ask yourself whether complaining about a review is the right thing to do.

For example, if a critic mentions that a piece feels under-rehearsed, or that the scene changes are awkward, or a line was forgotten, or there were technical issues, and these things did happen, then that’s something you have to accept.

Here is a list of legitimate complaints that I, and other critics I know have received from productions about reviews we’ve written, they range from the reasonable to the odd, and some are pretty eye-opening.

  • The actor that complained about a review because the director had died while the play was in rehearsals, and stated that the review would upset the director’s widow.
  • The director that complained that the reviewer had said an actor was wearing white gloves, when they were wearing black gloves. They threatened legal action because of this.
  • The PR that complained one year after the review had been published, claiming that the reviewer had “obviously come in during a preview” and they would never have allowed the reviewer to come in so early. The reviewer had booked a press ticket which had been confirmed by that same PR.
  • The actor who complained that a negative review named her, and a handful of other actors in a production that they were no longer involved in. It turned out that the company hadn’t updated their publicity materials since the cast change.

The L Word

In a perfect world, the threat of libel would be used sparingly, because everyone would get along and nothing nasty or incorrect would be written about anyone, anywhere, ever.

But we don’t live in a perfect world, and libel exists to protect people from having vicious lies spread about them in print or online. The threat of libel should always be a last resort if neither party can come to a satisfactory conclusion. Yet, there are more and more stories of companies threatening journalists with libel over reviews. It happened to me last year, it happened to a critic I know this year – on Twitter, no less – and it’s a deeply worrying trend.

The only advice I can give on the subject of libel is this; if you react defensively and threaten legal action against a publication, then you will get a defensive reaction in turn. They will seek legal advice, they will be advised not to engage with you, and all communications will cease.  Is this what you want? Probably not, especially if you’re only complaining about a misspelling, or the writer saying an actor wore a pair of white gloves instead of black gloves.  Libel should never be used in this way.

Does It Really Matter?

If you get one bad review, then you have to ask yourself; does this review really matter to me in the long run?

Should you pay attention to a bad review? Will one bad review haunt you forever? Will it follow you around various countries and festivals for the rest of your days? No, but your reaction to it just might, so look at the bigger picture, you got a reviewer in, you got a review published, you can either choose to ignore it, or add it to your flyers and posters ironically.

How you react to a bad review is up to you, just remember, the reviewer is critiquing your show, not you personally.

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The sordid tale of how I was censored by Straight Pride UK

12 Aug

Shoddy PR work, right there.

oliverhotham's avatarOliver Hotham

Straight-Pride

A few weeks ago, when thinking of interesting things I could write for this blog, I remembered a weird organisation that gathered some attention on the internet a month or two ago.

The organisation is called Straight Pride UK. It’s a strange group which believes that the tide of Gay rights has gone too far, and that now heterosexuals have become the oppressed minority. Essentially their philosophy  is spun from the same reactionary cloth as “Men’s Rights activists”  –  the notion that, having essentially run Western society for most its existence, progressive demands that Christian white straight males share some of their total grasp on power is somehow a removal of their rights.

Anyway, I wrote to Straight Pride asking that they answer some questions. Stipulating that I was “a freelance journalist”, I sent them some questions, about what they do and what they believe.

About a week later…

View original post 951 more words

Shit EdFringe Critics Never Say

8 Aug
Image by Camilla Hoel, used under a Creative Commons License

Image by Camilla Hoel, used under a Creative Commons License

1. That company sent me 5 different versions of the same PR! How helpful.

2. I will absolutely be at your show.

3. I just love the sound of the phone ringing. Constantly ringing.

4. Look at all the lie-ins I get to have this week!

5. Deadlines don’t matter at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.

6. Excuse me, please, I’m in a rush to get to my venue and you are in the way. Thank you so much!

7. I’ve had enough coffee for today.

8. Oh, I had such a good night’s sleep last night. I feel so well-rested.

9. Of course you can have my number.

10. I have so much free time on my hands!

11. No coffee for me, thanks.

12. Nothing cheers me up more than an email with 22 attachments.

13. I don’t mind you playing with your phone during the performance at all.

14. Are you on Google+?

15. You can never have too many flyers.

16. I’m not hungry.

17. Everything is going to plan.

18. Someone’s written a comment below my review. I love my fans!

19. I’m glad that person keeps calling me asking for a review, it really keep me on my toes.

20. I haven’t been rushing around this year at all.

21. Look at all this money I’m getting paid!

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Shit EdFringe Critics Say

6 Aug
Image by jontintinjordan used under a Creative Commons License

Image by jontintinjordan used under a Creative Commons License

 

1. Why did I decide to review six shows today?

2. Why did I book a show that starts before 10am?

3. Let’s meet for coffee.

4. (During a press night) I will try to see your show.

5. Where is the press office?

6. Have my tickets been confirmed yet?

7. I have a show in five minutes.

8. I’ve not had any coffee today.

9. Hello, my name is [name] and I’ve got some tickets to collect for [show name].

10. (To a flyerer) No, thank you.

11. (To a really good flyerer) I will do my best to see your show.

12. (To another critic) Seen anything good?

13. Are you on Twitter?

14. Can I have a large latte, please?

15. I’m starving, I didn’t eat breakfast/lunch/dinner. (Sometimes all three)

16. Hello, can you tell me where [venue name] is, please?

17. What day is it?

18. I’m so tired.

19. I have no money.

20. Let’s go to the bar.

21. MORE COFFEE, PLEASE.

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PR Post Mortem: The Best of EdFringe – Part One

4 Aug
EdFringe Flyerer 2010 Image By used under a Creative Commons Licence

EdFringe Flyerer 2010 By <p&p> Image Used Under a Creative Commons License

Since the Edinburgh Festival Fringe (or as some people insist on calling it, ‘Edinburgh’, like nothing else happens in the city for the rest of the year, like it’s a more modern version of Brigadoon, without Vincent Minnelli’s somewhat skewed vision of Scotland) has come around again, it’s time to analyse the best, the worst and the unforgettable in Edinburgh fringe PRs.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the very first PR Post Mortem dedicated to the wonders of the EdFringe PR.

I would Like You to Interview My Penis

Hello [Hi!]

Talented character comedian my penis is available for interview if you are interested.  [Chronically underpaid journalist is unsure if this is a character? Or…an actual, like, wang?]

After years on the sketch circuit my penis [ACTUAL WANG ALERT! ACTUAL WANG ALERT!] is hoping to finally get his big break in my Edinburgh show Wrong Way and is looking for press opportunities. [So, this IS a pitch for an interview with a real penis]

I am e-mailing you on behalf of my penis [Oh dear] as he is very shy [Oh Gawd], so if you would like to speak with my penis [Wang!] it would have to be via e-mail. [I will not be ordered around by a penis]

Me and my penis look forward to hearing from you. [Can penises hear? What’s the plural or penis? Penai? Peen?]

HD

I Can Haz Attachments?

Hi Amy, [‘Sup?]

I hope you are well. [You’ve caught me at that awkward moment between TV series. Game of Thrones is finished, but Breaking Bad hasn’t started yet. What’s a girl to do?]

I just wanted to ensure that you had our press releases for this year’s shows. [EdFringe shows? EIF shows?]

Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything further at all. [That sounds fair enough, I’ll go read your sign off]

px [A kiss? On the first email?]

[Oh, there’s a couple of attachments.]

[That’s more than a couple of attachments.]

[There’s more than 10 attachments]

[There are 22 separate attachments.]

[Why would you do that? What have I done to deserve this?]

Short and Sweet

Hello, [Howdy]

I have attached a ‘media release’, I hope you find it interesting. [Um, thank you?]

Thank you [You’re welcome, but who are you?]

Geoff W [Ah, Geoff, that’s great. What can I help…is that it?]

 

I Know You, I Know I Know You

Dear Amy, [Hello there!]

Our paths have crossed at the Fringe before [Nope] (I think we may first have been introduced by REDACTED?) [We were not introduced by REDACTED because I have never actually met REDACTED, so definitely nope]. Are you covering the festival this year? [I live here, so yes.]

I am returning this year with three really strong shows [Super]– all from acclaimed companies (two of which are returning to Edinburgh following hugely well received recent shows) and with interesting concepts. I’d love to know if you would be interested in previewing these in some way. [Ok]

[This section redacted to protect the shows, which do sound really strong, I agree.]

Do let me know if there is something we can do together, if you’d like to book in to review, or if you need any more information. [I’ve got all I need, thanks.]

Best wishes,
PR Person

[After I got this email, I found out that this PR person had sent the exact same email to an editor I know. However, this editor was not at the Fringe last year, and had also never met REDACTED. Sneaky.]

Perhaps the Politest PR Yet

Hi Amy, [Hi!]

Hope I’m not breaking protocol by sending this through [Protocol? What’s that?] but we would like to invite you to see and review my company’s show at this years Fringe. [That’s very polite, thank you]

Thank you in advance for your time: [Girly squeal!] please see below for our press release for our devised production [REDACTED] We are performing every day and we would be delighted if you could make it. [Since you have been so polite, I would be delighted if you would have me]

Please do get in touch with any info, image or interview requests. We love to chat, It would be great to hear from you. [Another girly squeal, you know why? Because it’s NICE TO BE NICE]

All the best,

Nice PR Person

Once, Twice, Three Times a PR

Dear Amy [Hello!]

It’s a pleasure [Give yourself over to absolute, pleasure] to send you the press release for my 2013 Edinburgh Fringe show, [REDACTED].

[Short and sweet, but that’s alright]

Best wishes

Person Doing Their Own PR

Dear Amy [Hello again]

I have pleasure [How much pleasure are you getting from this?] in sending you the press release for my Edinburgh Fringe 2013 solo show, [REDACTED].

[This was the same PR just with a different show name. I feel dirty.]

Best wishes

Person Doing Their Own PR

Dear Amy [Oh, it’s you]

I’m delighted [You’re delighted this time are you? Great!] to send you the press release about my new album launch and Edinburgh Fringe crowd funding project. [Well, at least it’s not about another show]

Best wishes

Person Doing Their Own PR

What They Did Right

  • Most PRs began with my name
  • One of the PRs was very, very polite
  • The Penis PR is just unforgettable

What They Did Wrong

  • Not giving me enough information in the email – this is the one chance you get to personalise your introduction and give the reviewer and idea of who you are, what you are offering, and why the journalist should care
  • Sending the exact same PR twice, followed by another, very similar, PR. It’s pretty lazy, and not very pleasurable either.
  • Why 22 attachments? WHY?

Post Mortem Recommendations

  • Be nice
  • Have an unusual/memorable angle to your pitch
  • Don’t be shy
  • Take the time to write a different email for each show or event
  • DON’T ADD 22 SEPARATE ATTACHMENTS TO YOUR EMAIL

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