Hi Village friends,
I’ve had a little rummage through my satchel this week and—oh, it’s a heavy one. Not with glitter (though there’s always a bit of that), but with something a little more tender. Hope. Grit. And a fair few crowdfunder links folded carefully between the press releases.
It’s that time again, isn’t it? The great Edinburgh exodus is beginning. Scripts are being tightened on kitchen tables, costumes stitched in living rooms, and dreams—big, bold, slightly terrifying dreams—are being packed into suitcases with dodgy wheels. And alongside all that excitement comes the reality we don’t always talk about enough: it costs a small fortune to take a show to the Fringe.
And yet… they still go.
Not because it’s easy. Not because it’s guaranteed. But because somewhere deep down, they believe in the work. And that belief? That’s the bit I think we, as an audience, sometimes forget we’re part of.
I’ve seen so many crowdfunder appeals lately. Some loud and sparkly, some quiet and heartfelt. All of them, in their own way, asking the same thing: “Will you help me tell this story?”
And I’ll be honest with you—I find that incredibly moving.
Because behind every one of those pages is a person (or a small, slightly sleep-deprived team) who has already given so much. Time. Energy. Probably their last £20. They’re not asking because it’s trendy. They’re asking because they’re trying to make something happen that otherwise… wouldn’t.
And here’s the thing that’s been sitting with me as I’ve been sorting my post this week: supporting artists isn’t just about having deep pockets.
It never has been.
Support can be a tenner, yes. But it can also be sharing a link. Mentioning a show to a friend. Turning up to a 2pm slot in a half-full room when you could’ve gone for a pint instead. Writing a kind comment. Giving something a chance when it doesn’t have a big name attached.
That’s the lifeblood of the Fringe. Not just the big hitters (lovely as they are), but the brave little shows that arrive with more heart than budget.
And I think there’s something quite beautiful in that.
Because the Fringe—at its very best—isn’t about who has the most money. It’s about who dares to stand up and say, “Here’s my story. Come and see.”
And whether that story is performed to a packed room or a handful of curious souls… it still matters.
So if your purse is feeling a bit light (and whose isn’t these days?), please don’t think that means you can’t be part of it. You absolutely can. This whole mad, wonderful theatre world runs on people who care—people who show up in whatever way they can.
And if you can spare a few quid for a crowdfunder? Well… just know that it might be the thing that gets someone to Edinburgh. The thing that turns a “maybe one day” into a “this August.”
I’ll be keeping an eye on a few of these campaigns in the coming weeks—there are some real gems bubbling away—and I’ll pop a few into the satchel for you to have a look at.
Until then, be kind to the artists you see (and the ones you don’t). They’re doing something incredibly brave.
And honestly? I think that deserves a bit of backing.
Right, I’m off—there’s a flyer stuck to the inside of my satchel and I’ve just realised it’s been there since Tuesday.
All my love,
Grace
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