How to be amazingly happy!

Knowing when to stop

5th September 2022

In 2018 I made an autobiographical one woman show called ‘How to be amazingly happy!’. It looked at identity and reinvention through the lens of not having children. It’s personal, intimate and increasingly has enabled me to platform issues around childlessness.

But when you have a successful show how do you know when to stop doing it?

As a piece of theatre, ‘How to be amazingly happy!’ has done well – a successful run at the Edinburgh Fringe, tour dates all around the country and still in demand. It’s been a great ‘bread and butter’ show, flexible to tour, manageable to self-produce and, when making new work has been frustrated by the pandemic, it’s been a valuable way for me to stay feeling like a performer and connecting with audiences. It makes a lot of sense to keep projects like this ‘in repertoire’ – but for how long? There are particular things to consider when the work is auto-biographical or trauma informed.

First, the material dates. Not necessarily in its relevance to the audience but to the experience of the artist. It’s a true life drama but only at that moment in time, and life moves on. Relationships change and loved ones come and go. Performance skills mean things can be compellingly recreated and shows can be re-written but there’s a heartfelt balance in maintaining the integrity of the narrative alongside being oneself on stage when big things you’re talking about have changed. I experimented with replacing a monologue about a relationship, included to represent new beginnings when it actually ended very badly, but it just wasn’t as good. I spent a whole day of rehearsal angsting whether to change the word ‘is’ to ‘was’ in a sentence about my mum after she died. Narratively it would be an imperceptible change but the experience of performing it very different.

There are other ethical considerations that come up as auto-biographical shows age. In a piece that is largely direct address, talking to the audience as ‘myself’, about visceral life moments, deliberately invites connection. But the audience experienc of live performance is in real time and in post show talks and surrounding conversations I don’t want to disrupt that relationship, or burst the world of the play, by no longer being the me they just met. Of course everything in the show is still true but in a production which attempts to bring honesty, to subjects often not talked about, I’m concerned with maintaining my authenticity and honouring shared vulnerabilty. And what if I’ve changed my mind about something?

This brings me to my next point which is about the paradox of working from difficult personal experience. It’s so powerful to bring a story into the light to say ‘I stand for this’ or ‘This has happened to me, so maybe to you, or people you know’. So is the challenge, healing and joy of art. But how is the artist’s recovery from a trauma affected by both their sharing of it and the process of continually re-inhabiting it on demand? How do they get to outgrow it?

My own experience was that it was fearfully hard at first to disclose something I’d kept private, then it was unintentionally and wonderfully cathartic. As with most trauma, shame is an underlying problem and being increasingly open has enabled me to assimilate my experience in ways I never imagined, as well as to meet and talk to amazing people. Now as time goes on it feels important that new things can happen and old experiences can be redefined in a bigger context. There are other things to say, do and be known for. With auto-biographical work though you are permanently linked to the material. You can’t just take your token back to the cloakroom and get your coat of anonymity back. Labels about issues and identity can’t only be worn in front of the people you feel safe with – they’ll be marketed to everyone and this complicity with the content of the show is reinforced with every repeat performance.

I was really taken by an exchange with artist @nathanieljhall, when he finished performing the auto-biographical show ‘First Time’ which tells his story of contracting HIV. He said that right from the beginning, because it was a trauma informed work, he only ever planned to perform two tours. When COVID affected that boundary he made a new one of a set number of shows – so he always had an end point in sight. That struck me as a very sound plan. I never set a cap but I remembered that my ambition for ‘How to be amazingly happy!’ was to do 50 performances. Adding up the stats when writing this article I was delighted to find that my next show will be my 50th!

So, with all this in mind I’ve decided that, to the best of my knowledge, the performance of ‘How to be amazingly happy!’ this Saturday at @StoryhouseLive in Chester will be my last one. I can hang up my costume in the knowledge that I’ve done what I set out to do and done my bit in creative service to issues that have come to matter so much to me and many others. It feels fitting that it will be part of a whole day of events exploring the experience of people who don’t have children due to choice, or not by choice, or both.

It also feels good to pass the baton. Stories will always need re-telling and I’ve recently met Deborah Pakkar-Hull (@otherhoodarts) who’s researching a new play ‘Otherhood’ about people’s experience of not being a parent.

I’m so grateful to ‘How to be amazingly happy!’ for all it’s brought me personally and professionally. In the same way as we are all a product of our experiences, I have no doubt it will continue to inform me as a person and as an artist. Perhaps the material of the live performance will evolve into another format, maybe there will be a follow up show. Time will tell, but with autobiographical work, whatever I make in future will inevitably be a story of what happened next. This is definitely ‘An End’ rather than ‘The End’.

To everyone who has been a part of, supported, or shared the story – sincerely thank you x

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Self Care Sound Bites

14 January 2020

This blog was first written for Camden People’s Theatre when I was producing and performing ‘How to be amazingly happy!’. You can see the original post here:

https://www.cptheatre.co.uk/blog/guest-blog-self-care-sound-bites-by-victoria-firth/

So, self-care is being talked about all over theatre town but what does it actually mean?

For me I think about snuggly blankets, eating greens, sleeping well and (probably) exercising – and all that definitely helps. But self-care is a very personal business. It’s about knowing what you need to do to take care of your physical, mental, emotional, spiritual and creative self – and taking that seriously is probably the first step.

Over the last two years, I’ve been writing, performing, producing and touring a one-woman autobiographical show and even though everyone told me how hard it would be it still took me by surprise. Here are a few things I’ve started to clock along my way which I hope might help you to think about what you need along your way…

1. You have to be shit. You can’t ever be good or get better at something without being rubbish first. All the brilliant artists have the same feelings about failing that you do. Making mistakes and figuring things out is an essential and inescapable bit of every process. So as hard as it might be, don’t let the earworm about being not good enough stop you doing anything. The doing it means you are already on the way to being better.

2. Set your own measures of success. It’s very easy to compare and think that other people get better reviews, sell more tickets, have more followers, have better hair etc.. Think about what you want to achieve in each particular project, what your creative goals are, what you want to say to an audience and use that as your compass.

3. Don’t be afraid to ask – for help, for favours, for information. All the artists I have asked have been extremely generous and encouraging. Venues are there to support you and they need interesting work. Research what you can first – there’s a wealth of information online and then knock on doors for what you need. Also don’t take it personally if people don’t reply. It isn’t any reflection on you. They are just having their own nightmare days.

4. What you can do is enough. When you are self-promoting you can always hand out more flyers, send more emails, do another tweet. But even if you’re the artist version of The Terminator there is always more you could do. Let yourself off the hook when you need a break or need to unplug for a while. You are the talent that you need to look after. Sometimes it’s good to change gear. Sometimes it’s productive to have a rest.

5. Know your cheerleaders. Who can you ask to tell you you are brilliant on the days you feel wobbly? Or for feedback in the way you want it? I don’t think I have ever been more vulnerable than when trying to make work that matters to me. Being freelance can feel solitary – so you need back up and lots of affirmation. Keep all the nice things people have ever said about you and your work on your phone, in a notebook, on your fridge door – wherever you can see it when you need it.

That’s my top five but it’s just the start of the story. Why not give yourself the gift of time to think about, and action, yours.

I know you’re worth it x

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Happiness, reinvention and childlessness

01 October 2019

This interview was first written with FELICITAS SOPHIE VAN LAAK for DIVA magazine online when I was touring my autobiographical solo show ‘How to be amazingly happy!’. You can see the original posting here:

https://divamag.co.uk/2019/10/01/how-to-be-amazingly-happy/

DIVA: Why is our society obsessed with being “amazingly happy” and what does that sentiment mean for you?

VICTORIA FIRTH: I think everyone is looking for happiness or fulfilment and we’re also being sold ideas of it all the time. What it means or really looks like is a million-dollar question, but I’m pretty sure it’s not as advertised. When I thought about it, for me, I decided that identity, purpose and belonging were all things that I wanted to develop. I nearly put love on the list, but it felt too problematic at the time. Someone said to me at my last show that, “Happiness is being in the present moment,” and I think there’s also probably a lot to be said for that.

Your solo show also talks about women who don’t have children. Why do you think there’s still so little social validation for those women?

Generally, we’re not as good with difference and complexity as we ought to be – or like to think we are. Motherhood is still such an established archetype for women and is embedded in gender ideas, education, working culture, social expectations, conversational conventions and so on. For “The Patriarchy”, a single or childless woman is still a threatening idea but, to be honest, I think a lot of it is just ignorance and a failure to adapt to something that is becoming more and more common.

In your experience, are voluntary and involuntary childlessness perceived differently?

Some people choose not to have children for personal, social, political, environmental or other reasons and may celebrate and empower that choice with terms like “child-free.” That’s great. The right to choose is paramount.

However, some people want children and either find that they can’t or don’t. People tend to think of infertility as the primary cause – a physical or medical issue – but social infertility is becoming more and more common. By this, I mean people whose desire to have children is negatively affected by their life circumstances, for example they haven’t met the right partner, or they’re waiting longer because of work responsibilities, economic pressures or lack of support. For those who do want children, not having them or trying to have them and failing is heartbreaking. It’s not spoken of much because it’s a very personal experience that can involve shame and vulnerability, so instead it’s an often invisible grief.

What makes the lesbian experience of childlessness unique?

I think the lesbian experience of both trying to have children and not having them has particular challenges. When I first started thinking about children, I was struck by the internalised homophobia that came up. Could I be a mother, should I be? I also realised how hetero-normative my ideas of family were. That my circumstances didn’t match those pictures but, in a perverse way, I was almost waiting until they did. I also struggled with a lack of role models, although that’s starting to change now.

For childless lesbians then, I think it’s easy to assume that they were never going to have children or never wanted to – which may not be the case. For those who want to parent, there’s the challenge of being self-determining. Then, more choices about how to go about it, who to involve, the cost and so on. Access to NHS support is more difficult for lesbian couples, as it often is for single women.

Yours is a “story of reinvention.” What things have you reinvented about yourself?

People have to reinvent themselves for all kinds of reasons – relationships that don’t work out, job changes, health issues – so it’s something everyone can relate to. For me, I started to put a different value on my own happiness. I decided to take more risks. I made some conscious choices about how I wanted to spend my time. I committed to trying out some things I’d always wanted to do and, if I wasn’t sure what they were, then I had a go to find out. I also wanted to have more fun and take myself more lightly. I still have to work on that, but it’s why I wanted to make a show that was funny as well as thought-provoking.

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Gamekeeper turned Poacher (or maybe vice versa)

August 2018

This blog was first published in The Stage during the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. It refers to my time as Director of the Lawrence Batley Theatre (LBT) and returning to performing in middle age with my solo show ‘How to be amazingly happy!’.

Prior to beginning at LBT I had a career as an artist both directing and performing. It was why I got into theatre and the bedrock of my passion for it. I also think it’s why I’m good at my job. I think venues should be artist (or art) led and although I am known for being a ‘safe pair of hands’, when it comes to developing an organisation’s fortunes, I absolutely know this is because I manage the business end of things in tandem with my artistic sensibility. So although the role at LBT didn’t initially call for directing or producing it was important for me to find ways to hang on to my identity as an artist and to exercise my creativity.

First I did an MA in Ensemble Physical Theatre at the University of Huddersfield. Then I did a residency with Pacitti Company and went on to make some small live art pieces which included an appearance in the National Platform at the SPILL Festival – but over time the ability to hold back the tide of emails, policy demands, fundraising issues, local strategy group meetings and personnel needs, whilst trying to keep a work/life balance, becomes impossible to hold back. Now I basically have a desk job.

After 10 years in post it seemed important to claw back my sense of self as an artist and the pleasure and inspiration it gives me. But how? Where are the resources, the time to do it? What about conflict of interest, What about risk management? Solo work, self-produced with the support of other venues seemed the only way to go. The thought of stepping out as an unknown, emerging artist in middle age, whilst being a reasonably well known programmer, was terrifying – but I have had nothing but support and it’s important to say here it would also not have been possible without the commitment and vision of the LBT Board.

And so here I am in Edinburgh with my show. I don’t know yet how it will go, whether anyone will book it, but on some levels it doesn’t matter. I have already had a compelling insight into some of the challenges that artists are facing now, seen first-hand how the producing ecology and self-producing in particular, is working and have a much stronger idea of how LBT can help. I‘ve met countless new artists who have been generous with their time and I’ve remembered why I do this and that’s made me more playful, less tired and much clearer.

In short, it’s now more important than ever, that everyone working in the arts has opportunities to nourish their creativity, explore their passions and take risks. It has value and if we need to find new ways of working and shift perceptions in order to do it all the better – it’s the goose that lays the golden eggs.

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