The one and only Tiff ladies and gentlemen...
“You know there’s a writer’s group on a Wednesday night here, right?”
Holy cow. 6 years of attending a readers group at Drury Lane Library and only now am I told that there have been writers hiding away here too? Jeez Louise.
Imagine the scene. Some season of the year, roughly so-many-years ago. Somewhere in Drury Lane Library. I quite possibly entered near that little photocopying machine thing that used to house the old newspapers and stuff, the one that smelt a bit of dead mouse and dust – okay, never mind, don’t imagine the scene, it’s not worth the effort.
Do imagine instead: An adorable Tiff Milner (complete with the retro full-fringe and some form of casual looking suit). At this moment in time, I was perusing my natural nesting ground, the library, in search of the elusive and recommended Writer’s Group. If you know me, you know where this story ends and which writers group it was, but if you don’t or you’re just a wee bit slow on the uptake, I’ll tell you that it was the Yew Tree Writer’s. Which, if you’re keeping up with me in the library right now, I have just spotted, clustered around two white plastic tables.
“You here for the writers?” a voice said – a voice which I will come to recognise as Gemma’s. I’ll skip the awkward introduction phase that everyone gets when you meet new people; hi, I’m so-and-so, I’m here to write, blah-blah-blah, ba-da-bing-ba-da-boom. I remember our first writing challenge and exactly the feeling of dread I felt when I was asked to read it. Aloud. In front of people. Hot tomato sauce, Batman. I felt like Mark Ruffalo on the set of the Avengers: What if I didn’t fit in?
Lo and behold, I did. Switching viewpoints for a second here, the writer’s later informed me that from the moment they spotted me, they knew I was a writer. And when I reluctantly arrived at Golden Ticket week at Crimson Company – in the full knowledge that I had never acted in my life – I was about to embark on much the same thing. Hey, you know Tiff right? Been at Yew Tree forever? Yeah, she’s only been hanging around here for like a few days.
It’s something that hits you when you’re young and teen-angsty and thoroughly awesome: Fitting in isn’t always easy. But time and time again, Yew Tree has been the welcoming little light-bulb at the gas station where so many fabulous and welcome moths gather. Not to say that we’re moths. I’m just – never mind.
It’s not always been a piece of cake, of course. I’ve done rehearsals when I’ve been so sick that the toilet bowl became my best friend and I discovered a world of Trainspotting-esque bowl-diving. Drury Lane shut down and Writers eventually disbanded. Crazy life things made Yew Tree an unusual, complex, fantastical place.
But, like its name sake, Yew Tree has remained rooted in its most wonderful goals. To make people happy. To give young people confidence. To bring together folks who might never meet otherwise and say “Hey, I like something you like.” And in doing so, joining it became one of the greatest decisions I ever made (and I’m The Tiff, my decisions are always the best). From what ya’ll know of me, The Tiff never needed the confidence that Yew Tree provides, but I have, at first hand, witnessed the most timid of people become lions on stage. Yew Tree allows the expansive minds and the big hearts of even the smallest of people to shine. And over the years I have been here, I have met a lot of folks that are creative, funny, intelligent, loveable, kind and, proudest of all, my friends. Remember when I said that Writers had disbanded? Open in another tab right now is our plan to meet up once again and have a great time. Yew Tree is its members and its valiant leaders, who I consider to be my friends and my teachers. So while I’m out proclaiming awesomeness: Gemma, Sarah and Oz dearests, you guys are awesomesauce. Like, really really awesomesauce which goes on super-awesome foodstuffs like pineapple and hazelnut chocolate. You’re amazing.
And as for making me happy, YTYT has a little memory box in my mind. Reclining in a basket for a whole performance and pretending to be riotously drunk. Sitting in the little function-room thingy near the theatre and having a blast with my Crimson Crew. Reading spoken word aloud and feeling like my voice reached all the way over to Carol Ann Duffy, sitting in her armchair somewhere and most likely drinking something with 90% alcohol. I may or may not have fake-broken-up with The Beast as an angry Lumiere. Flash-mob Hell (I think that one’s a good memory, right?). Open Mic Nights. Shout-out to all my awesome friends here too. YTYT has indeed made me a happy bunny. It’s also made me smarter, kinder and, let’s face it, funnier. You know what? I don’t think you Yew Tree-ers heard this quite enough: I’m awesome ;P
I’ve written a lot of things at Yew Tree while I’ve been here. I’ve met a lot of people, ya’ll probably know me by now. I’ve had a lot of fun. But while this blog post has been about my experience, Yew Tree is about everyone. It’s a collective force of encouragement and friendship and kindness. It’s the bravery to say “yes” to being brave. It’s having a rubbish week and condensing it into one worst (or trying to wheedle it into your bests). It’s a gas-station light bulb when life’s feeling a bit worse-for-wear and you really, really just need to get some Ratchet Screwdriver bruises and a hug. It’s a long blog post that talks itself into a circle. Yew Tree is what you need it to be, right at the moment you need it.
So here I am. Full-fringeless. Wearing a less-casual suit. On the brink of a new library with two figurative plastic tables called University. Bring it on.
Anyone for Ratchet Screwdriver and a hug?
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