Four pieces of A3 paper each containing an area marked out to a ratio of 150mm wide x 260mm high.
Page 1:
The title, “If I was brave enough..” written in block letters in a banner across the top of the page with full credits.
A box stretching across the page under the title banner reads: If was brave enough, I would have:
The majority of the page is divided into two rows of four boxes, with the following contents:
Row 1, Box 1: Caption: Written the Dark Warrior novels… Picture: The Dark Warrior;
Row 1, Box 2: Caption: ...gone for the job... Picture: narrator at a laptop writing a CV;
Row 1, Box 3: Caption: ...to the interview... Picture: narrator at a panel interview;
Row 1, Box 4: Caption: ...gone somewhere abroad alone... Picture: narrator at the Eiffel Tower;
Row 2, Box 1: Caption: ...not stayed outside for fear of not being wanted... Picture: narrator as a child standing outside a room within which we can see children playing;
Row 2, Box 2: Caption: ...asked for help... Picture: narrator as a child raising their hand in class;
Row 2, Box 3: Caption: ...at least attempted to draw this or find an artist… Picture: split box of narrator drawing a comic / on phone speaking to artist friend;
Row 2, Box 4: Caption: ...or entered the unknown cave. Picture: narrator walking towards dark cave entrance.
A box stretching across the bottom of the page reads: And so many other things..
Page 2:
A box stretching across the top of the page reads: …the classic of asking someone out seems to be missing, right? Well, many years ago I used to write “poems” I referred to as ramblings. One, called The Battle, probably sums this all up quite well.
The majority of the page is given over to The Battle. This middle section features, on either side, the narrator’s face in profile (with the one on the right being a negative impression of the one on the left). Between them are speech bubbles containing each line of the poem (see below). The text for the negative narrator, on the right, is in italics, the text for the narrator is regular.
Narrator: I’ll ask her out tomorrow.
Negative narrator: No you fucking won’t.
Narrator: I will. I’m strong enough.
Negative narrator: You aren’t. You spineless freak.
Narrator: I am.. I will, she’ll say yes too.
Negative narrator: No she won’t, why would she?
Narrator: ‘Cause she likes me… I’ve heard.
Negative narrator: You don’t even know.
Narrator: I do.. the looks she gives me..
Negative narrator: As if to say- I’ve never seen such an ugly freak.
Narrator: No it’s something else.. in her eyes.
Negative narrator: No, it’s repulsion, horror- remember, I see it too.
Narrator: Is it?
Negative narrator: Yes. She hates you. All women do.
It’s not as if you’re good looking or anything.
Narrator: True, I best not bother, then.
Negative narrator: Exactly, save yourself the pain.
Narrator: Yeah, you’re right.
Negative narrator: I know.
Underneath is written the date, “28/12/1999”.
A box stretching across the bottom of the page reads: That was 21 years ago, more than half my life. Little has changed. I can talk myself out of anything. I will always avoid the unknown cave.
Page 3:
A box stretching across top of the page reads: It is the same for everything, my two sides face off. Positive vs Negative.
Underneath is a row of 6 boxes with the following contents:
Box 1: Caption: I see a good job and I think about it, Picture: Narrator looking at job ads in paper with thought bubble reading, “Looks great for me!”
Box 2: Caption: until I convince myself it’s not possible. Picture: Narrator with whirly/confused eyes with thought bubble reading, “No,”
Box 3: Caption: Then, either don’t apply, Picture: Same picture as Box 2 but with thought bubble reading, “it’s not for me.”
Box 4: Caption: cancel the interview or Picture: Narrator typing an email thinking, “I just don’t think I am ready…”
Box 5: Caption: enter it in such a tither I don’t stand a chance. Picture: Narrator at panel interview (like on Page 1) with a dark cloud above head.
Box 6: Caption: Even if just one questions unseats me. Picture: Similar picture to Box 5 with sweat rolling down narrator’s face and a question mark over his head.
Box 7: Caption: One lousy point. Picture: Narrator in an interview feedback meeting crying on the outside, angry, almost fit to burst, on the inside.
Box 8: Caption: On and on, until I give up. Picture: Narrator sitting at a desk working, with the negative narrator standing behind him. Each wears an identical contraption on their head with a wire connecting them - power is transferring from the negative narrator to the narrator. The narrator himself is starting to become negative.
Box across middle: I need to break free again. I did once before.
Box 1: Caption: Once, I fell for a colleague. Picture: Narrator with colleague at a toy shop counter, love hearts in his eyes.
Box 2: Caption: I asked her out twice. By post. Picture: Narrator posting a letter with a love heart on it.
Box 3: Caption: Years later, we met up a few times for drinks. Picture: Narrator drinking in a pub with the colleague (no love hearts).
Box 4: Caption: On a night out, in a club, she asked me out (properly). Picture: The colleague looking toward the narrator (in Box 5) saying, “That way you felt about me? I feel that way about you now.”
Box 5: Caption: I told her I didn’t. Picture: Narrator looking towards the colleague in Box 4 saying, “Sorry, I don’t feel that way anymore.”
Box 6: Caption: Before that moment, my mind had been in a cage. Picture: A brain in a cage.
Box 7 and 8: Suddenly I was free. Picture: An empty cage with the brain flying free.
A box stretching across the bottom of the page reads: For years I’d (inwardly) moaned about being single. Now, it was my choice. It took time for me to start doing something but, after accidentally stumbling into a relationship, a true thirst began, changing my outlook entirely, so that, when it failed, I found myself actively trying to start again.
Page 4:
One large picture of the narrator holding a flaming torch aloft and striding towards the dark entrance of a cave.
Text in little boxes in the following order spiral around the edge, moving around toward the cave entrance:
I just need a torch - A flicker of hope - Warm, like holding a hand - It could just be some inner hope, ignited by a kind word - It could be help and support - but - with that torch in hand - it becomes possible... - a way to see - to explore - to try - the unknown cave.
A box stretching across the bottom of the page reads: I have never been able to raise my hand. That needs to stop. “Maybe it’s time for a change,” Neil sings to me. Let’s see, Neil, let’s see.
