Episode 116 'Guadalajara, Mexico'
It's rather challenging to write a book.
It is difficult to keep (and maintain) a rhythm or a consistent flow of writing. The word is that you need to write something everyday, regardless of its merit. I believe this to be true, as you cannot edit an empty page, and yet I have recently gone many weeks without writing a single word. Factors, excuses, delays and other jobs are the usual culprits. Self doubt and imposter syndrome soon follow. So ultimately, it can become yet another shelved project that fades into the ether of once great ideas. I cannot let this happen with my book.
I began officially planning the story in August of 2024, with an outline, character profiles, storyline and general plot and chapter breakdown. The writing came naturally after this, with a real passion and understanding for what I wanted to achieve. But the problem with basing the main protagonist on yourself, alongside an emotional journey that mirrors that of your own, is that it evolves into more than simply a story to read. It's an extension of myself. I choose the chapters I want to write based on my current emotional status; is this wise, or outright ridiculous? Or is it a rhetorical thought, as it's all written with emotion?
In episode 114 I talked about the escapism of writing, and what it meant to me growing up. I continue with this sentiment, but it can also be detrimental to the process. My mother used to say that I wore my heart on my sleeves, and now I find it splattered all over my keyboard as we follow the misadventures of Toby (the working name of protagonist; you can tell I was truly being creative here. Damn, I really should change it).
The reality is that I cannot turn down other jobs as I write this novel. A struggling artist can only squander his funds so much, and rent will always need to be paid. Romanticised thoughts of living exclusively in the van as a bohemian writer come and go, but a job is a job. The animation studio here in Lisbon continues to give me work, which is incredible. The stop motion landscape is a little slow, but now and again there comes a short film or pilot episode where the blend of 2D animation and stop motion is needed. But these projects would be small, only children to your eyes, and I sorely miss working in a large team.
And lo! I find myself here on my faithful blog, returning to the humble roots of my authorship and perhaps exercise my fingers with a classic Tommy Grainger ramble. This is, after all, my training ground (or Danger Room) for all written ventures. It is quite possible that I needed an arbitrary ramble to break through the writers block I had with the novel.
Many things have happened in the past few months, resulting in an unfortunate neglect of the book. I gave myself the goal of twelve months to complete the first draft, however, April through to June were steadfast with freelance jobs, visits from friends and family, extravagant trips across the globe and barely any time in my own art studio. I have only seen my little doggie once or twice!
So these productive distractions, let's call them, have included repairing and plastering the walls of a new office space, building a display unit for an exhibition in Guadalajara, Mexico (more on that later) and being a regular 'man in a van', where I have been helping people move apartments for a little extra cash in hand. This latter job is very spontaneous, as a friend of mine had put my contact details in several WhatsApp groups and left me exposed to messages hitherto, requesting (and expecting) a man in a large removal van. I would confess that size isn't everything, but that we can definitely fit a sofa into the back of my camper van if we mind the sink and have an adequate understanding of Tetris.
And with this side hustle, I do meet some very lovely people. This kind of job echoes my thoughts from previous blog posts, where I feel like my purpose is to help people get to where they need to be. Maybe that can transcend not only with the actions of a van, but with bonds of fellowship and love. I digress.
And so, we come to it...
Guadalajara. Mexico. Prestigious film festival. Red carpet. Tequila. Mariachi rock n roll band. Lucha Libre wrestling. A wild and beautiful cocktail of reasons to not be writing a book.
I was hired by Sardinha em Lata to construct a display unit to showcase the sets, props and puppets of the feature film 'Os Demónios do Meu Avô' [My Grandfather's Demons]. This was Portugal's first stop motion feature, if you remember. The film still carries gravitas throughout the animation world and El Festival Internacional de Cine en Guadalajara (FICG) wanted to include it as part of the exhibition, as Portugal was the guest of honour for the festival.
I had the month of May to plan and construct this unit, before it was shipped off to Mexico for the exhibition. The idea that a tiny (unventilated) workshop in a small, underground animation studio would be the beginning of such an adventure was absolutely bananas. The director, Nuno Beato, gave me the guidelines of the unit and what needed to be on display, then allowed creative freedom to run its course.
And guess what? I was chosen to be the steward of the display unit and travel with the director to Guadalajara as part of the Portuguese delegation. I felt way in over my head. An imposter. An Englishman, representing Portugal in Mexico? That is unheard of. It would only be upon my return to Portugal that I fully understood how important this was for me; a modest carpenter brushing shoulders with the President of EKA Luis Chaby and fellow film ambassadors and representatives from all over the world. My narrative comparison would be akin to when Crocodile Dundee visits New York, or Mr Gatsby perhaps, or even Babe: Pig in the City. Pretending to be someone that I'm not, in a place where I don't belong.
But there was free tequila. So I was content.
The parties were huge. After the red carpet affair and the opening ceremony, our congregation moved swiftly to the after party; a huge University campus (warehouse) that hosted a live mariachi band and the Lucha Libre wrestling I mentioned earlier. It was truly a wild experience.
Unfortunately, the exhibition (and the display unit) was not quite finished. So on the Saturday morning, accompanied by my sleepy team of students, we cobbled together the final stages of the exhibition room, mere hours before the building would be swarming with press, journalists and influencers to celebrate the opening. There was a ribbon cutting, speeches and a fantastical buzz that gave me such an excitement to be part of this festival. Dare I say, I may have been proud of myself (*gasp).
The domino effect, however, was at play and the frantic packaging of the set (back in Lisbon) finally reared its ugly head of inevitability. Some of the LED lights were not working and some materials/tools did not make it across the Atlantic Ocean. I can admit to the former problem, as I may have plugged these LEDs into a socket that emitted enough voltage to power a small city. But the lights in the Padaria and Quarto da Rosa set were working.. which were my priority. Besides, we all have bloody torches on our phones these days, shine a light people!
Nuno and I had precisely ninety minutes to explore a local church and market place before returning to the festival. That was all the culture and sightseeing I was subjected to, much to my horror, and most of that time was waiting for currency exchange and getting lost with no WiFi to help calculate our whereabouts. At least, I remembered that the University (home to the film festival) was in a general north-east direction. The sun beat heavily upon my back at midday, as we meandered the boisterous streets of Guadalajara. I didn't even have time to buy a sombrero.
The feedback we received from the exhibition, the talks and masterclasses, and overall presence of Portuguese film and animation was tremendous (so they tell me). Nuno was keen to pursue various connections of whom could bring Sardinha em Lata into the fray of future Mexican productions and collaborations, something I think is a definite possibility. Vamos ver. I am happy to work at the studio here in Lisbon, but there will always be factors that give cause to hesitation. It's a hardworking industry, where the fruits of our labour are not always valued. But that, my friends, is a story for another time (*places lightsaber macguffin back into box).
I haven't even included the photographs from my visit to Guadalajara's very own prestigious stop motion animation studio 'El Taller del Chucho' - the studio that brought us Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio. I will need to post these next time!
What else? What more do you want to know? Do I still drive around in the campervan? Do I think about returning to the UK? Do I believe in life after love?!
So many questions.
I remain in this beautiful limbo, where my life in Portugal is probably as perfect as it could ever be. That does not necessarily mean that I am always happy. In fact, there are many things that I miss, or long for, or would drop everything for. And yet, upon reflection I deem this existence a relatively peaceful one where I can work enough to pay rent and travel around with a smile upon my face. My neglected art space despises my adventures. My book yearns for more words, paragraphs and chapters. But life is full of distractions and opportunities. We just have to navigate through them as best we can.
As Ferris Bueller famously said, 'Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. The question isn't what are we going to do, the question is what aren't we going to do?'
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