Only an obsessional procrastinator would cry, ‘Let’s run for our lives, but not till Wednesday afternoon.’ Back.
The other person at the Frost Report table to whom I was drawn was one Marty Feldman. I hasten to add that my interest in him was platonic: in fact when I first met him, I was rather shocked by his physical appearance. Dressed only in black, heavily suntanned and very fit, he looked like an Armani gargoyle. This was the script editor?
Graham always used to say that I was shocked when he came out. That implies some sort of moral objection. Untrue. I was not ‘shocked’, I was very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very surprised.
And so Graham and I finally got down to our first film script, and I can say with complete confidence that we had absolutely no idea what we were doing. Of course, we had no idea we had no idea what we were doing, and that meant our enthusiasm stayed intact.
British journalists tend to believe that people who become good at something do so because they seek fame and fortune. This is because these are the sole motives of people who become British journalists.
John Cleese... he cannot sing and keeps a locked piano in his room to prove it.
I made my first public appearance on the stairs up to the school nurse’s room, at St. Peter’s Preparatory School, Weston-super-Mare, Somerset, England, on September 13, 1948.
This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It’s expired and gone to meet its maker! This is a late parrot! It’s a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies! It’s rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot!
I guess we’re all thinking how sad it is that a man of such talent, of such capability for kindness, of such unusual intelligence, should now so suddenly be spirited away... Well, I feel that I should say, “Nonsense. Good riddance to him, the freeloading bastard, I hope he fries!” And the reason I feel I should say this is he would never forgive me if I didn’t, if I threw away this glorious opportunity to shock you all on his behalf. Anything for him, but mindless good taste.
The greatest killer of creativity is interruption. It pulls your mind away from what you want to be thinking about. Research has shown that, after an interruption, it can take eight minutes for you to return to your previous state of consciousness, and up to twenty minutes to get back into a state of deep focus.
The anthropologist Gregory Bateson once said, “You can’t have a new idea ’til you’ve got rid of an old one.
Put simply, you can’t ask your unconscious a question, and expect a direct answer – a neat, tidy little verbal message.
The first was that the creative architects knew how to play.
The second was that the creative architects always deferred making decisions for as long as they were allowed.
But perhaps the biggest interruption coming from your inside is caused by your worrying about making a mistake.
When you’re being creative there is no such thing as a mistake.
As Hindus say, the mind is like a chattering, drunken monkey.
Tortoise Mind.” “Hare Brain.” They need each other. But keep them separate!
So “borrow” an idea from someone you admire – an idea that really appeals to you personally.
The Buddhists have a phrase for this – “Beginner’s Mind” – expressing how experience can be more vivid when it’s not dulled by familiarity.
Getting discouraged is a total waste of your time.