So What’s My Fucking Mark?!
On November 10th, a huddle of hushed academics will convene and conspire to make or break the futures of my fellow writers and me.
This is, of course, the hyperbole born of a lazy writer (It’s been a month since my last ‘confession’, father), but it means a lot to me. My MA has probably been the hardest I’ve worked in my life and how I do on it feels like a big part of proving to myself that it is possible for me to get my act together, to brush off the worst of my nature and build a future. So basically it comes down to this – I was on for a distinction…did I get it or not?
Like a man in a jealous relationship, I have been scouring every tick of my judgers for clues. What did that gesture mean? That extra exclamation point surely means he’s enthusiastic about my imminent glory? He asked me if I’d got my marks yet…that must mean I’ve done alright! My play I handed in was longer than most people’s…I was determined to write something properly full length which I’d never done before. Turns out, I could do it after all, only took me 25 days…not sure why I’ve been putting it off so long. Of course, the problem here is that while the length impresses me, the quality will likely be a little slack and might not impress the powers that be. But you know…I’m sure it’s ok…even if I can’t bear to look at it just yet.
The last bit of writing I did for my course was an academic essay, the 30% split for my dissertation mark (the other 70% goes to the script) In true form, I was banging it out the night before, but unlike the first year of my BA, this is merely the time where the knowledge coalesces best for me, rather than any massive slacking. “One last all nighter” I told myself. Except the expected coalescence didn’t happen.
That had never happened to me before and it was awful. It felt very much like impotence in the face of your greatest ‘conquest.’ I floundered all evening, until night turned to morning…and even then I was banging out nonsense just to get up to the minimum word limit before hand it. All my essays at CSSD have gotten decent marks. In all of them, I was well clear of the word count and had to cut down, concentrating the quality. Here…well…here’s hoping the play is bloody good after all!
When it comes down to it, it doesn’t matter if I get a distinction or not. Nobody who hires me, or who puts on one my plays will care an iota. I know I know I know…but for the Mr. Confidence Player that is me, it’s nothing but everything.