Lost A Tooth, Lost in Spaces
Lost A Tooth, Lost in Spaces
Or diaries, diaries, diaries...
I’m back after wrestling with a nasty tooth extraction – extremes of pain! But you know me, I fight to be resilient. With that in mind, I share a happy memory from when I toured my first one-woman spoken-word show, Lost in Spaces. Based on my lifelong collection of diaries to tell my own story and to connect with others, the show was majestically directed by Beth Pitts and featured my beautiful friend and super-talent, Jo Cox, on cello. While I can no longer handwrite, after 42 years of keeping diaries I now have junk journaling techniques and even little videos to keep me going.
My diaries from the late '70s through the ‘80s are the most detailed, filled with minuscule writing and multiple page-after-page outpourings of daily life.
Dairies are understandably not necessarily conveyors of truth. Anais Nin’s were often allegedly joked at as ‘liaries’. But they are what we hope is the truth to ourselves at any given moment. Maybe the truth we need, especially when life is a grind. And you’re 20 years old. My diaries from the late '70s through the ‘80s are the most detailed, filled with minuscule writing and multiple page-after-page outpourings of daily life. Crammed with poignant struggles and loud hatred of Margaret Thatcher. One day, it’s all moaning about my mum not wanting to wash my hair. Another is ranting about the Falklands War crisis. Much space is taken up with my commitment to be a writer and how it can be possible when I have to eliminate – I’m told – disability from my work. Throughout 1983, I theorised at length about my attempt, turning further towards science and horror fiction in ways I thought might be sneaky. Alas, DAW Inc in the US loved my SF novel, but it was too British and others did not want a young disabled woman protagonist.
Looking back, I’m not surprised that I sold very little, particularly as the overwhelming markets were soppy women’s magazines and in my post-punk liberation I was all passion, scarce with my reality and high on naivety concerning the subtleties of social politics. It is, though, heartening to come across a page that details the early activities of the disability arts movement. Being told as a burgeoning writer that I have a place in it and the disability story is central.
Many years to go until Lost in Spaces premiered at Soho Theatre, but I’m gladdened when I read those distant hopes and dreams and wonder, now, if my diaries fed my famous resilience to be one reason I never gave up.
Keep well dear friends, your support is appreciated deeply. And it’s my birthday next week! For those asking if they can send a card, thank you kindly! Send to c/o SLICC Studio, Clifton Centre,1 Stainsby Street, St Leonards on Sea, East Sussex TN37 6LA
Extra note: I’m pasting in the Alt Text here, used on images so visually impaired readers can access the image. I thought I’d share because it might just add a little more context to my piece.