Abe’s Three Frees, which I normally write on a Monday to publish today (Wednesday). My fortnightly longer read (usually written on a Wednesday, to be published on a Friday) and — as it’s the final week of the month — Loosies, which I usually write on a Friday to be published on the final Sunday of the month. If you’ve not already deduced, I’ve not written this week’s Abe’s Three Frees and as I sat on the exercise bike, I began to reconsider a decision I thought I’d already made peace with yesterday, that I was going to take a break this week. From both Abe’s Three Frees and Substacking.

In my personal life, I don’t think there’s a person close to me who isn’t aware of how overstimulated and overwhelmed I’ve been for weeks. Maybe even months. If you’re a reader here then you, too, are likely aware. I’ve repeatedly mentioned it in enough of my articles on here, to the point where I got bored of it and — weary of sounding like a broken record — consciously began to stop mentioning it. But me not mentioning it didn’t change the reality: I am indeed, still, overstimulated and overwhelmed. And it’s just been mounting and mounting and mounting.

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And so, whilst on the exercise bike, contemplating not taking that break for a week and instead quickly slapping together an Abe’s Three Free to publish today, suddenly my brain went the opposite way. And decided that not only would I not post today or for a week. More than that, I would be taking a summer holiday. Oh, to be in the mind of a Gemini, lol.

Last week, a friend and I spoke about my long-standing reputation for being disciplined and structured in most if not all areas in my life, and how well it serves me. We were discussing in the context of recent events in my life where I’ve allowed myself to be less so, and felt the benefits of it. The main thing I observed within this is that everything that I need to get done, gets done. And the things that don’t need to be done and don’t get done… Unsurprisingly, are not the end of the world.

Let’s take my gym routine for example. I go five days a week. Typically, Monday-Friday (push, pull, legs, upper, lower - for those curious). On the rare occasion where I have to miss one of those weekday sessions, I’ll make up for it on the weekend. However, in the last two weeks, I’ve not even been able to do that, slipping down to four sessions instead of five. Again, it did not prove to be the end of the world (though — as I knew it would be — eventually returning to that 5th day would be painful; that session includes weighted lunges and single leg hip thrusts, and so once I go more than a week without doing those… the pain the day after does, in fact, last more than a day).

I am writing this on the day I’m publishing it, Wednesday, and the gym session this week was the first of my week. Firstly because I got home at around 9am on Monday morning. Is this as insane as it sounds? Potentially. My friends and I know how to have a tremendously good time and — being that the BBQ was around the corner from my house and I have the luxury of schedule flexibility (more on that later), I had always foreseen myself getting home pretty late. But the actual reason I was out so late was because, once all the fun was over, I decided to help my friend with the tidying/cleaning/getting the house back in order. His wife (whose birthday it was) was in utter disbelief when she woke up in the morning to me leaving, the house restored to normalcy and realising the part I’d played in that.

That schedule flexibility I mentioned. Despite my reputation for discipline and structure, I am very aware of the schedule flexibility my work/career gives me. I can wake up tomorrow and decide I don't want to do anything and — generally speaking — there are no consequences. Still, it’s something I rarely do. 2026 has been quite taxing for me. There have been no holidays, my passport has no new stamps, I’ve just had to quite relentlessly keep pushing. Within that there has been grief, too, and though I’d like to think I have been kind to myself… I think this video on carrying grief yet having to keep going is a more truthful reflection of where I’ve been at (would have embedded it but — annoyingly — the user has disabled embedding!).

Anyway, one of those seasons, I guess. But anyone who knows me, knows I really love summer.

Summer is for fun, for joy, for whimsy. Summer is for eating and drinking too much at a BBQ and writing off your whole next day (and then picking up the pieces on Tuesday, hence, only returning to the gym on Wednesday). Summer is for taking my goddaughter to the cinema (and planned baking days, because she loves baking). Summer is for random days in a park or drinking al fresco. Summer is for moments like this Friday where I’m having a couple of friends over for dinner, a dinner that was planned weeks (maybe even months ago?!) which I’ve known what I will be cooking and baking for weeks, yet I keep staring at my calendar asking myself when the heck I’m going to have time to go do the food shopping for it. Summer is for the first of my sibling’s graduations.

On the topic of that dinner, I started preparing for the dinner yesterday. I’m baking a carrot and (rum-soaked) pineapple cake, and so the pineapple soaking process has to begin a few days ahead. Recipe here (sans rum-soaking, but just use common sense for this one, init?) if you wanna give it a go.

Yet, as I type, I’m asking myself when am I going to have the time to do the food shopping for the menu I’ve had prepared for weeks?! Because, amongst all of this, I still have work that I need to do. And that’s the difference. I really enjoy Substacking, but I don’t need to do it.

Something, some things, even, have to give. And Substack is it.

Because summer is for RANDOMNESS, whatever it throws at you. To saying YES. TO all the fun, all the joy, big and small. Be open and available to it all and embrace it. And having the energy to do so (I also behave like this around the Christmas period/most of December).

And so, I’m taking a summer holiday from this. For years I’ve seen people joke on social media about why can’t adults have summer holidays? I had to remind myself that this adult actually can. Well, a version of it. There is no pause from my screenwriting responsibilities; a pretty big deadline awaits me, one that I’ve been fretting over. For any fellow filmmakers who are familiar, I am applying for the BFI Discovery fund this year for what I hope will be my debut feature, the feature version of Chasing the Night. Wish me luck (and wishing you the same if you are doing so, too!). Then, after that, I should be getting started on a new commission. I’ve also been working on a new theatre piece that is gathering steam and I need to keep the wheels spinning on. And then there’s my horror film that I finally got to start working on, on spec, only to have to pause because of all the other priorities - writing and other. Long story short. There’s a lot to be doing. And I want to feel alive within it.

(N.B. I look forward to a future that looks like that of my more experienced/esteemed screenwriter peers, who quite literally take the entirety of summer off and just have fun throughout it all.)

When I am overwhelmed and overstimulated, I’m not sure how alive I feel. Everything just feels like a drag. And I need to free myself from that. A summer holiday from Substack isn’t the only solution, but it’s a start. The bigger point is that I need to free myself from discipline and structure. And also — in some ways — I also need to free myself of the mindless routines within my day-to-day life. What are the things that are contributing to that overwhelm and overstimulation that I might be better off without, whether temporarily or long-term? Lots to think about.

One thing I know for sure, I need to get back to reading. I try to read on average two books a month throughout the year… The 7th — and last book — I completed was back in April! Yes, there were reasons (grief, unexpected house move; my second of both in the space of four months) but it also tells me, and us all, how overwhelmed I’ve been to not be able to focus on a book.

When I’m back, after summer (not committing to a date), perhaps I’ll write something about all of this.

But, for now, I’m checking out of here and making things a little easier for myself. I trust it’ll be for my (and, the) greater good.

Hope you’ll still be here with welcoming arms once I’m back?

And if you would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below:

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Think of the ‘free’ as ‘free game’ (read: because he thought it had a nice ring to it).

Hello my good people, welcome to another edition of Abe’s Three Frees. There’s not much to say this week. The World Cup is nearly over. I’m looking forward to getting some extra hours back in my life. But I will also miss it thoroughly.

England are in the semi-finals. I’ve still not — surprisingly — allowed myself to believe they can win it, namely because I cannot see anyone stopping the France team. But let’s see what happens against Argentina later tonight, and see what delusions might carry me away.

Who knows, by the time this go out, there might have been a great upset and France may not even be in the World Cup anymore?! If that happens, inject every single delusion into my veins 💉💉💉

Okay, let’s get into what’s going to be a really quick Three Frees.

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Abe’s Three Frees, #027: 7th July - 12th July 2026

1. This poem moved me:
   I came across this on Twitter. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did 🥹

   

2. There is a little immaturity stuck away in the crannies of even the most judicious of us, and we should treasure it:
   
   Those beautiful words do not belong to me but to the revered film critic Roger Ebert. They are taken from this incredible first paragraph of his review of The Mummy which you can read below:

   

3. Don’t miss out on the love of your life in fact being life itself:
   My words are inspired by this tweet that I really resonated with.

Quickest Abe’s Free Threes ever. Quality not quantity, init?

‘til next week!

And if you would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below:

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The British film and TV industry is a merry-go-round. I don’t have any stats to back this, but it’s commonly accepted within the industry that the grown-ups (by that, I mean the salaried working in-house at production companies, broadcasters and streamers) tend to move around every few years, generally as a means for career progression.

For writers with projects in development, there can be a bit of dread associated with this: it is not uncommon for a project to die if a significant person from the development team in your project leaves. You build a project with these development people over a few years. You get to know each other and the project well. You cycle through hundreds of suggestions, ideas, approaches in pursuit of finding what’s right and you develop shorthands along the way, as well as learning how each other works.

It might be helpful if, for the unaware, I explain the basic structure and hierarchy of a development team on a project from top to bottom:

1. CEO - sort of self-explanatory. Head honcho, init? Shot caller. You’ll generally have pretty minimal interactions with this person. But they are significant and invaluable to the process. Their insights, reputation and relationships plays a huge part in getting your project made.

2. Executive Producer - There are variations of what this person’s involvement looks like in different production companies. In some companies where there is no CEO, they act as the above. But in a company where there is a CEO, they tend to be the conduit between the CEO and projects in development. A good one — from my experience — reads all the drafts, gets stuck in as much as they can and keeps the project on course. Or, rather, ensures that the writer’s vision aligns with what the CEO will support (which will be, typically, what they know commissioners will be responsive to). It’s not unusual for them to suddenly leave meetings or drop out last minute from them because they have to prioritise something else but they are very across the project.

3. Development Executive/Head of Development - this is the person you will likely interact with the most whilst you have something in development. Again, depending on the structure of the production company. They are without a doubt reading every draft. Always on the other end of the line for notes, feedback etc. and supporting you as best as they can (Snacks? A drink? Etc.). They are essentially your day-to-day person.

4. Development/Script Editor - From my experiences, though I’ve had less experiences with this person, they are usually also reading everything and contributing to the notes process via the grown-ups above them. They’re junior, learning the ropes but they are valued in the team, too. They’re an extra pair of eyes, catching things that others don’t and/or — sometimes — reading when the above cannot and providing summaries and the likes.

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If the development/script editor moving company? Not-so-big-a-deal to the project. But if #2 or #3 leaves a production company — and this happens often — it can put a project in a precarious place. Does the new person coming in understand the project? Do they like the project? If nothing else, it can generally be daunting or — dare I say, intimidating — coming onto a project that has been built without you. And before you know it, your project loses it’s place (sometimes, this is a slow death), hence the dread writers have when the merry-go-round activates.

Before you even find yourself in a position where you’re developing a project with a production company, you’d have had meetings first (we call them generals) and it’s a bit like dating. They’re getting to know you. You’re getting to know them. Trying to find out if you like what the other likes, the way they think, the things that interest them and — within that — if there’s an idea of yours which connects with them. And whether you can — ultimately — work together.

Sometimes you can do all of that and it can go well, but you never end up actually working on a project together. There are a couple execs/producers who I would love to work with, and vice-versa, but we just haven’t found the right project yet. The reasons tend to be things like it not being a good fit for the production company’s work, clashing with something else that’s already on their slate, the idea didn’t meet the required internal consensus or it’s too similar to something that they know through the grapevine is on the way. There’s also been times where — when I’ve had multiple offers — had to make the difficult choice of which production company I feel would be the best home for a projects. There’s no hard feelings when either of these happens.

In any case, as I’m sure you can now appreciate, I’ve found that what tends to make a difference in development is the people you work with.

I recently had a meeting with Melissa* (this and all names here onwards are anonymised), an Executive Producer at a production company she’s been at for about a year now I think. Before that, Melissa had been at her previous production company for seven years and — for about four of those years — she was the Executive Producer on one of my projects! In that catch-up, I learnt from her that Nicholas, the development executive on our project at the previous company (though, at this point, was now Executive Producer at said production company) was leaving. All of a sudden, all my go-to-people at the production company — my favourite production company I’ve worked with, might I add — were… Gone! The CEO is still there and is tremendously fond of me (so much so that, when she learnt of a breakdown I had a couple years back, immediately intervened with so much love). But there was still an immediate sadness for me. Yes, I can still reach out to the CEO and I know they’ll always respond to me. But your relationships, on the most part, is with your day-to-day people. Well, I need not have feared.

A couple days ago I got an email from Nicholas:

Hey Abe,

Hope all’s good with you?

I’m no longer a [production company name] man after Tuesday, so in the interests of making sure you have your people here (beyond [CEO]!), I wanted to make sure I had introduced you to Richie, who’s just started with us as a development editor and has already made such a brilliant contribution to the slate and to the team as a whole (it helps that they are also a keen fan of NO MORE WINGS!).

I’d love for you two to meet and chat as and when works for you both.

But in the meantime, keep in touch, Abe, and I’m sure we’ll catch up before too long!

Have a great summer,

Nick x

This email immediately warmed my heart. I last saw Nicholas in May and had kept meaning to mention that I’d love something exactly like this, to keep the relationship going. Him having the foresight to do this without it being mentioned (to my knowledge, this is the first time I’ve ever had such a generous act) speaks not only to how he and the production company value me but, also, to the production company itself. The fact that he’d be leaving yet still want to ensure that the relationship between myself and the production company remains is a reflection of the company’s good culture.

This isn’t the norm, though, and as a writer it is imperative that you take the onus to build and maintain your relationships if you wish for a long, fruitful career in this industry. With that in mind, I’d like to offer five tips of how I’ve done this over the years.

5 Tips on building and maintaining your industry relationships

1. Add anyone you meet on LinkedIn!
   I can’t believe how long it took me to realise that this was something to do. Once you do this, you can always keep track of what production companies people have moved on to. Also, when they do so, don’t hesitate to drop a little comment on their announcement post! We meet so many people in our industry and I think a significant part of the job is reminding people you exist to be honest.
   

2. When you have new work, invite them to see it/send it to them
   Have a screening, performance, reading of a piece of work you’ve made? Invite them! Even if they don’t come, you’re reminding them you exist (are you noticing a pattern here?). You’re also showing them that you’re still in it and, hopefully, in it for the long haul (because the reality is, so many people drop out of this — I’ve seen it with my own eyes in my fifteen year journey). People appreciate commitment and, I suspect, assume progress as a result regardless of if they engage with the work.
   
   The other part to this, sending them work, is pertaining to new spec scripts. Many a production company all over the land infamously state on their websites “we do not accept unsolicited scripts” and — whilst that’s true — the way around that is having these relationships. So if and when you’ve written a new spec script that you are proud of, hit up that person you’ve established a relationship with and ask them if they’d be up for reading it. You’re not sending it to them because you want them to make the project, you’re sending it to them so that they can see how your voice as a writer/storyteller has developed, and also it’s an open invitation for them to give you feedback should they wish to. Above all, it’s an opportunity for a conversation. Conversations build relationships and feeds into the long game of eventually working together in a formal capacity.
   

3. Even if you have nothing to send, try to get in touch at least once a year
   These are awkward and I’ve not always been so good at them, even now. But I am helped — these days — by the fact that I have an existing track record, and also that it’s likely I’ve done #2 (with the help of my agent!).
   
   But even if you have nothing new to send, you can still send an email. In that email, take an interest in how things are on their side since you last spoke. Also briefly mention a couple of the ideas you’ve been thinking about or even working on, even if you don’t have anything formal (a pitch, treatment, script, etc.) to show at this stage. Though, come to think about it, how about you take the time to write a little something — say, half a page to a page — on that idea? It’ll be more meaningful and constructive than 1-2 lines in an email and show effort and commitment.
   
   Again, not only are you reminding them you exist, you’re showing them how your storytelling sensibilities are developing and the things that are currently interesting you. Also, when you do this, it might lead to them sharing with you the kind of things they (personally or production company) are currently seeking out and are interested in, as well as give you a general insight into the industry’s appetite for what kind of stories at the moment and that may then inform where you let your imagination lead you with subsequent ideas, particularly if you don’t have anything to share at all.
   
   Also, heavy on the at least once a year. Do more, if you can/it feels right! I know there’s a tendency to worry that you’re pestering people but believe me, you’re helping them do their job. Part of their job is to keep up with the next, best talents and if you’re one of them… They need to keep tabs on you.
   

4. If you find a production company you particularly like working with, more often than not, it trickles down from a great CEO/founder and the culture that they’ve instilled
   This is less a tip and more an observation that I think is worth noting, and it’s one that isn’t limited to the film & TV industry. So even if your go-to person is moving on from the production company, it’s worthwhile ensuring you make relationships with the people who remain. I’ve had times where the first person I’ve encountered at a production company is the CEO, had a great rapport with them and then been introduced to the people who’d eventually be my go-to’s, and never seen the CEO again. This is not a bad thing at all! I can think of one such example, actually, where CEO handed me down to two execs, one of which was Zara who I had previously met at another production company when she was more junior and had gotten along with immediately. In fact, Zara was who I was thinking about above when I was speaking of people I’ve never formally worked with but confident it’ll happen one day. She was someone who gave me the time of day when I was very early in my journey and has consistently continued to do so as I’ve risen.
   

5. For the love of God, PLEASE KEEP A DATABASE OF EVERYONE YOU MEET!
   I am appalled that this was not something I started doing until 2024 when I signed with a new agent. You have sooooooo many meetings in this industry. It is utterly impossible to remember and retain all the people that you meet. But — especially because of the merry-go-round — it’s important information that you need to have to hand.
   
   Now, after every meeting I have, I jot down some details in my database so that in the future I can know if I’ve met the production company or individual before and jog my memory. Below, I’ll share the categories on my database:

• Production Company Name

• Date

• Attendees

• IRL/Zoom?

• Met before?

• Notes and thoughts? (was it a good conversation? Do I like them? What kind of things are they interested in at the moment? Did any of the ideas I mentioned particularly connect with them? Did they share anything personal worth making note of - an upcoming trip, a wedding, children, an ill parent?)

• Do I want to pitch something to them?

• Did I send them anything post-meeting?

• Further/follow-up notes (think of this as misc)

These details will put you in great stead when you meet people again and are able to confidently make reference to aspects of your last conversation. Great, great relationship builders. And then, on your part, it also helps you remember what about you and your work resonated with them last night or what they weren’t so keen on, and inadvertently guide your pitching better. Because, in some shape or form, every single one of these conversations is a pitch of some sort if we’re being totally honest with ourselves.

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With my fifteen years of experience, hindsight is continuously a bitch. There’s so many little things here and there that nobody will teach you and you just have to figure out yourself and, to that effect, I’m not too hard on myself.

When I have learnt them, I share them when and where I can, having realised that everything about success in this industry is about the little edge you can get to ultimately get ahead.

If any of these tips were useful, let me know in the comments. Got other golden tips you think we could all do with? Share the love!

And, as always, if there’s something you’d like me to cover in this series, let me know. If I feel I have something worth sharing on it, I’ll always be more than happy to help.

If you’ve found this advice helpful and would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below.

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Abe’s Three Frees is a weekly newsletter where Abe quickly touches on three things from his last week that made him feel something. Once upon a time, these would’ve probably been tweets.

Think of the ‘free’ as ‘free game’ (read: because he thought it had a nice ring to it).

Welcome to this week’s Abe’s Three Frees and it is with regret that I must inform you that I am — once again — overstimulated. This time, however, I accept it’s of my own doing.

I love the World Cup. Including this year. But I have never so much wanted it to be over 😭 And I know after a week at most I’ll be saying how much I miss it but bruh. I know I’m not the only one feeling like this either and most of us have attributed this to it being held in the US (and Canada/Mexico) and the subsequent timezone. But I realised yesterday the actual issue: the implications of the World Cup being expanded from 32 teams to — for the first time — 48 teams! Normally there are 64 matches in a World Cup. Now that there are 48 teams? 104 matches in five weeks. If you want a comparison, there are 380 games in a premier league season which takes place over nine months. Here, we are condensing 25% of that into about a month?!

I’ve watched every single game in some capacity; I’d probably say 60% of the games I’ve watched live and in full, and 40% I’ve watched highlights. I’ve had a good structure: on weekdays I don’t watch matches that start after midnight, to preserve my sleep and gym routine. But I of course broke that for England on Sunday night and the only reason your boy was not watching that game in the local pub was because it started late (in hindsight, an incredible game to have watched in a pub atmosphere 🥲).

I say all of this to say, it is miraculous that I not only have three frees to offer, and that none of them are football related! And there’s even a very brief bonus share too (because if I leave it ‘til loosies, it’ll be too late).

So without further ado, let’s get stuck in.

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Abe’s Three Frees, #026: 28th June - 6th July 2026

1. I was so moved by Lauryn Hill’s speech at the BET Awards where she was the recipient of the Living Legend Icon award:
   
   I am constantly having thoughts about the responsibility that comes with the gift that I have been given as a storyteller and artist, and what it means. And Lauryn talks so beautifully on this topic in this speech. For many she has been both polarising and enigmatic over the years and I can understand why. But — and I think it’s fair to say that it’s the artist in me — with an album like The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (a body of work that I will forever hold in my top 5 albums of all time), I don’t think I’ve ever failed to understand her.

2. Will Smith on it being really simple to change your life, but it’s not easy:
   
   This feels like the kind of thing my best friend and I have spoken about over the years — we have really similar mentalities. It’s also been something that has often been tremendously difficult to navigate with my work/life and the people in my lives not always being able to understand why I have to be the way I am.
   
   I am of the belief that people think they want things (success, riches, whatever you want to call it) in all walks of their lives but aren’t even remotely prepared to or realise the reality of what it takes to get those things. As Will Smith says in this clip, people don’t really realise what it takes to win and the difference between 90% and 100% is lifetimes of difference. And when people do realise what the difference is, many walk away. There are areas in my life I’ve done this in the past, too, which is okay — just make sure you’re being honest with yourself.
   
   P.S. the caption below should say can’t, not can and it really irks me!
   

3. The importance of other creators/artists’ work opening doors for better work:
   
   Really enjoyed everything that Abbott Elementary creator and star Quinta Brunson says here about how good art opens the doors for better art, the doors Insecure and Atlanta opened for her work to exist (and how her work would go on to open doors for others). The subsequent breakdown of this by Jacob Webster on the idea of creative lineage hits the nail on the head.

   From when I was a baby writer finding my feet in the industry and my voice as an artist, I very quickly identified and would often say to my artist friends that "we all have to feed back into the ecosystem”. As a Black British person, even before I had ambitions to make film and TV, I often looked to the United States and the breadth of stories in their black cinema/television and without knowing the inner workings, knew and appreciated it was due to this; things such as taking pay cuts to collaborate because they put at the heart of their intentions the greater good and work that needed to take place.
   

BONUS SHARE: Free Santander bikes every Saturday for the whole of July.

That’s it. That’s the tweet 🤭

Well, that was enjoyable to write. Dare I say I feel a little less overstimulated after writing that? Let me know if you hop on a bike in this glorious sunshine. And if any of the videos I shared connected, let’s chat about them in the comments!

Abe signing out ✌🏾

And if you would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below:

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Think of the ‘free’ as ‘free game’ (read: because he thought it had a nice ring to it).

Happy July folks! Summer seems to be in full swing, I think?

Over on this side life’s been a bit full on; there’s been far too many plates I’ve had to keep spinning all at once in varying areas of my life. I often forget what I’ve written/shared here but waiting is a key theme for me in my writing/directing world. To navigate said wait currently requires additional plates of work outside of that world which I’m actually enjoying! But it can get quite physically and mentally strenuous, especially when I’m still trying to preserve any little capacity I can find to still keep things cracking in my writing and directing. The position I find myself is interesting, and one I don’t take for granted — I acknowledged to friends recently that I have two sets of seeds:

1. The tangible ones I’m waiting on - specific projects out to commissioners, financiers, etc.

2. the intangible one that is my entire career thus far - that at any given moment in time, an opportunity could just fall into my lap due to the reputation/profile that exists from having done this for fifteen years (this happened earlier this month, and it’s been a really cool project to work with)

I’ve also got a really big deadline for the Chasing the Night feature at the end of the month with an outcome that could be a potentially significant step towards the ambitions of shooting it as my debut feature. In times like this, I can sometimes be a bit unintentionally hard on myself; the thought of spending any time having fun, time that could instead be spent working towards my goals and where I want to be doesn’t always sit well with me…

I say all of that to say, reflecting on the last week, I eased off on myself and allowed space to have fun, be alive. I accepted an invite to a screening (more below) for a film I really wanted to see and, with that, came a lovely afternoon of learning how to make/style cheeseboards (again, more below) and also made time to see a friend.

As I write this and reflect on my last week, I can see how many wins there were in my week on the work front. And, whilst some of them came from the time I spent working, a significant portion of them came without me needing to do anything or, rather, because of what I’d already done.

For a couple years I’ve often said of work and my life:

I can’t make tomorrow come today.

And what I mean by that is that there are things which are going to come when they’re going to come and there is nothing you can do to make them come any sooner. This last week served as a reminder of the importance of balance, that I am almost always doing more than enough and if that’s the case, then no amount of working harder will make things come quicker.

They just come when they’re supposed to and you can’t put life on hold in the interim.

Right, think we should get into this week’s three free’s, right?

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Abe’s Three Frees, #025: 22nd June - 28th June 2026

1. The Invite comes out in cinema this week. It’s a riot of laughter and gonna be a contender for film of the year, I feel:
   
   I’m hoping the distributors bet big with the release and marketing (though I sadly suspect this won’t be the case) because — much like The Drama earlier this year — this is one that’ll get people talking. Think it falls into this new anti-romcom term that’s being bandied around? I don’t really watch trailers but this one caught my attention in the cinema; how could it not with the star-studded cast of Olivia Wilde (also director), Seth Rogen, Penelope Cruz and Edward Norton?!

   ^{(Also I am absolutely stealing that moment where the actors’ names come up for a trailer of my own in the future. Bar for bar. I won’t be shamed).}
   I won’t say too much other than this was very much my kind of film. Very real, authentic characters — warts ‘n’ all — and once again feels like it harks back to the mumblecore boom of the late noughties/early parts of the last decades, where filmmakers were making dialogue-driven, naturalistic and authentic stories on very little budget (not the case here with that cast, I imagine).
   
   It was a bit bittersweet to discover it’s a based on an existing non-English language film (2020’s The People Upstairs). The bitter part is because of my vested interest in filmmakers getting to make original films, and original stories like this and knowing that it’s not because the filmmakers don’t have the ideas but because of the risk-adverse nature of my industry and, thus, it’s obsession with IP. The sweet part, however, is that I can now go and watch the original Spanish version (followed by the Italian, Swiss, French and North Korean remakes, woop).
   
   Even more fun was that after the preview screening I went to, I got to attend a cheeseboard making class with Grape & Fig as an honouring of the cheeseboard that appears in the film. Do I like cheese? No. Do I like cooking, making things and hosting? Yes. And after all that, I actually tasted all of the cheeses and didn’t have a strong aversion to anything (I gifted the cheeseboard to my mates who’d appreciate it far more than I would, though, and they indeed did). My creation:
   

   

   My stellar cheeseboard aside, The Invite comes out this Friday. Run, not walk, to the cinema to watch it! And for the screenwriters amongst you, if you enjoyed I hope these help an aspiring screenwriter, #002 on writing a feature on spec in the current climate, I’d say that The Invite is another good film to study that ticks the boxes I wrote about in that piece.
   

2. The UK has more vineyards than you realise. You should go for a vineyard tour/tasting/overnight stay/all of the above:
   
   Sharing this piece I came across of the best UK vineyards for tours, tastings and overnight stays. Had to save it immediately. What a wonderfully whimsy activity to participate in the summer if you like wine.
   
   I visited my first British vineyard in the UK in 2023, making use of an experience gift voucher that I’d been given for my birthday. The timing was perfect; I’d just had the positively overwhelming experience that was the premiere of my short film Chasing the Night and it was really nice to escape the city and the noise for the day. In writing this piece I’ve since discovered that the vineyard I went to that day — the Carr Taylor vineyard in Hastings — was put into insolvent liquidation last year 🥲. Every other day I feel like I’m reminded of what a tough time it is for any and every single industry right now. Really enjoyed their wines, took home a few bottles including a really unique ginger wine. So gutted to learn that their chapter is closed.
   
   May I instead recommend the Gusbourne in East Sussex which I went to last year for a vineyard tour and wine tasting and two-course meal? Followed by an overnight stay at their hotel partner, the Gallivant, a really cosy, boutique hotel. And if you need any more of a co-sign, both of these were featured in the article I shared, which reaffirmed to me it was one worth saving to turn to for when next I want to go to a vineyard.
   

   

   
   If you are booking both the wine tasting and the overnight stay, there’s a significant discount you can get on one or both experiences, so please look into that and/or enquire with them so you don’t pay more than you need to.
   
   Little tip: The Gallivant is across the road from Camber Sands. Why not have a beach day after checkout? Thank me later…
   

3. Amy Winehouse Reincarnated…?!
   Was out with a mate last week whose partner is an artist manager. She shared the latest song from one of his artists, the quintuple-threat (singer, songwriter, musician, producer and DJ) Sâlo:

   It doesn’t take long to hear the Amy Winehouse reincarnated shouts, does it? Went to follow her on Spotify after, only to discover that I already do follow her and had liked five of her other songs. For all the love I do have for the algorithm and the new music it introduces me too, there’s a fleetingness to it all that I dislike. Though maybe it just comes with age? I vaguely remember being younger and hearing about the idea that the older you get, the less you keep up with new music. At the time, considering my love for music, I thought it could never be me. I still love music just as much, if not more but I can see the truth in it… The artists whose music I tend to stick with/retain are the artists I’ve loved from since I was younger. Every couple years someone truly spellbinding will breakthrough that (Daniel Caesar, Snoh Allegra, Olivia Dean are the first few that come to mind) but nowhere near the amount of discovery of my younger years. Then again, I’ve also always been an album/body of work person working there’s also that.

Hope you enjoyed the confectionary that was this week’s Abe’s Three Frees. If you watch The Invite, let me know what you think. If you’ve got vineyard recommendations for me, I am all ears. Someone else I should be listening to? You know I’m always here for new music recommendations.

‘til next week!

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What do we want? LOOSIES!

When do we want them? NOW!

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Abe’s Loosies, #004: May 2026

• A quote from a slightly old episode of the Touré Show podcast that resonated with me: When you don’t have anything, you lean on what you do have, and I have talent. - Teedra Moses. Check out the ep, good listen.

• A visual representation of what I’m going to look like the further England go into the World Cup:

  

• So what you mean to say to me is that people in different parts of the world are just doing whatever it is they like and calling it sport or entertainment or whatever? Okay!
  

• Wondering how I would react if my five year-old goddaughter did this to me:

  

• Real:

• The life I aspire to:
  

• We all have art in us, man, I promise. If only it could be simpler. May it be simpler, still, for our offsprings:

• Remember the Nike Scorpion Cage commercial from back in the day? One of the greatest ever. The Athletic’s subscription is so worth it but they actually made this piece they published on how it was made free, so you should read it here.

• And the ad, below, for those who don’t remember it (or simply want to rewatch:

• Aesthetically pleasing things make me happy:

  

• Another podcast I’m enjoying at the moment, Blocc Party: An Insecure Podcast. Issa Rae and Penny Prentice — the showrunner of Insecure — episode by episode go through and break down every single episode of the HBO hit Insecure, reminisce and share behind the scenes secrets. Shout out Tolani for putting me onto this one.

• Another striking image that caught my eye somewhere:

  

• Joe from 6th Street (if you know, you know) dropped a Tiny Desk.

• Even before he dropped it, for some reason I’ve had the treacherous song that is All the Things (Your Man Won’t Do) stuck in my head for aaaaages. This is a visual representation of me breaking out into song — that very specific song — fifty-leven times a day (disclaimer: I am not currently in the process of trying to steal anybody’s girl):
  

• I have thoughts on this. All of them are in support of it. I may write a Substack on it at some point, in fact; watch this space:

  

• And, to wrap this up, this is for anyone still standing and needs the reminding/encouraging that I so often do:
  

And that’s it. Wishing you all a beautiful remainder of June. Thank you for rocking with me as always ❤️

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It was either before my mother knew she was pregnant, or they knew my name but not my gender, dad had dreamt that they were having a son and that son would be called Abraham. That man loves a dream boy, he stays having ‘em (come to think about it I — too — have many dreams about my real life problems/dilemmas, hmm…). What Nigerian parent doesn’t? If you are Yoruba specifically, sending love for every time you’ve heard your parent say the following and know whatever they were about to share was an attempt to deter you from something you want to do:

Mo ni àlá l’áná

On that note, a song my mate FJ shared with me when I messaged him to double-check I correctly structured the Yoruba:

Funnily, the last time I recall my dad telling me of a dream he’d had, it was in the aftermath of me letting him know my last relationship was over. I can’t remember the specifics of his dream but what I do remember thinking is ‘why did you wait until after the relationship ended to tell me this?!” and maybe that’s growth on both of our sides because he probably thought — based on how I may have felt about such behaviour in the past — it might be wise not to share with me. Though I imagine another part of it was because the dream was a contradiction to what would follow, the Nigerian parent’s innate ability to do their very best to try to convince you that a relationship can be saved, even if the takeaway from the dream they had was the opposite.

Anyway, we’re not here to talk about dreams (today) or my romantic relationships (ever), we’re here to talk about names 🙂

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I love my name.

As someone with tremendous amounts of main character syndrome, my parents did their big one giving me a name that isn’t very common. Even better that it begins with A(b) with a surname that begins A(d) meaning that I’ve often benefited from being at the very top of or near the top of lists.

My name means “father of all nations” and from time to time — when I question whether I actually do want children — this crosses my mind. As the all-too-familiar Sunday school song goes, Father Abraham, had many sons. This Abraham, however, would be happy with just the one son (accompanied by the one daughter).

When people tell me they’ve never met an Abraham before, I tend to dryly respond: that’s because I killed them all.

I’ve also never really had a thing about people abbreviating my name. Like you see how some people might only permit their close friends and family to call them by the abbreviated version of their name? Or strictly use their full name in professional settings?

Yeah, none of that has ever rung true to me. Most people commonly call me Abe. Then there’s Abes, Abey (one of my best friends, and one of my younger sisters growing up), Abs, ‘Braham (my producer and friend Abiola). And then — for those that know — there’s A-Doublez, A-Dubz, Dubs, Dubsy.

The only one I forbid is Abbie and/or anything that sounds like that. That is not my name. I hate it!

A few years ago, I remember being out and was having a conversation with two people I knew (separately). Whilst we were in conversation, one of them referred to me as Abraham, to which the other said ‘what, your name is Abraham?!’

I cannot tell you how confused I was. I immediately responded, ‘What the hell did you think Abe was short for?!’ 😂

Since that day, I have always introduced myself as Abraham. And when others introduce me to people as Abe, I will always softly — but firmly — reintroduce as Abraham. It remains that I don’t mind or have a preference for whether people call me Abraham or an abbreviation. But it is imperative to me that you must know the name my parents gave me because I love it.

Anybody with a Christian/Jewish name that easily interchanges with another from the third Abrahamic religion (Abraham’s, Miriam’s, Ishmael’s and Sarah’s, I’m looking at you), Islam, is probably no stranger to encounters with Muslims where — when introducing themselves by their name — their name is pronounced back to them in the Muslim way. Countless Muslim family friends, shopkeepers and more growing up would warmly respond “Ibrahim!” and it would really grate me. I would always correct them. That’s not my name!

Last year however, whilst I was in Athens, something shifted…

In my second home, I’ve made a fair few Lebanese friends owing to the burgeoning Lebanese community the city has. One beautiful, warm Athenian Saturday summer night last year I joined some of my Lebanese friends who had been at a supper club at the restaurant/listening bar of the gorgeous hotel Okupa (some context, the hotel’s founders are Lebanese). George — a friend of a friend — and I got chatting and immediately hit it off. My brain’s a little hazy, but he’s half Lebanese and half something else (maybe Greek, actually? Would explain the George/Yorgos part. Though, now, something is telling me he may have been Palestinian… Maybe he’s half Greek, half Palestinian? I really can’t remember.).

When our conversation began and I introduced myself, he did that same very emphatic Ibrahim! that I’d grown up hearing. And in that moment, something changed…

I realised it no longer irritated me.

This was my fourth Athens trip, a place that I did not a single soul in on my first visit but, by this visit, had become a place I am blessed to say I have community in. My first visit to Athens was the entirety of April 2022. I followed it up by spending May 2022 in Seville, a place I’d been to twice already and — whilst I had a great time in both places that year — my experiences when it comes to making connections in both couldn’t be anymore contrasting — a story for another day.

When we meet people, we are usually — whether consciously or unconsciously — trying to find common ground, connect. Maybe it’s something someone’s wearing, a shared appreciation of drinking the same drink, hearing a song you like, supporting the same football team (or sometimes, even, supporting rival teams!), it’s all efforts towards human connection and I’ve come to appreciate this even more from travelling.

In this instance, in emphatically calling me Ibrahim!, my friend George had found something familiar that connected our cultures.

I grew up in Woolwich which has a large Somali community. In primary school, one of my best friends (and we are still in touch to this day) was called Abdul and I suspect he would have been the very first person who taught me about Abraham/Ibrahim names. I can also vaguely remember that, likely very shortly after the above, either one or both of my parents hammering home to me that that’s not my name and I shouldn’t allow anyone to call me that.

That mild, pretty harmless form of xenophobia that many of our parents harbour. Or maybe xenophobia isn’t the word, considering it pertains to religion rather than nationality. Whichever it is, they don’t mean harm by it but many of us adopted it along the way, also meaning no harm by it.

But, as an adult, I know better and like to try to challenge the way I think and feel about things I normally do without thought. Habits, if you will. And as a Christian who has very much adopted inshallah and other Arabic words that are intrinsically linked to Islam, and has grown to understand the undeniable foundational links between Christianity and Islam — given that they are both Abrahamic religions — there is absolutely no ill intent when someone calls me Ibrahim. In fact, it’s likely a form of affection. It’s not lost on me how often I continue to discover in life that that which is constantly used to divide us, when inspected a little closer, just presents more and more opportunities to unites us, if we let it.

So, what’s in a name? Maybe more than we realise.

How do you feel about your name? Do you abbreviate it? Who do you let abbreviate it? I’d love to know in the comments.

And if you would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below:

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Think of the ‘free’ as ‘free game’ (read: because he thought it had a nice ring to it).

Hello all and welcome to another edition of Abe’s Three Frees.

Being that it’s the World Cup, I think I and we should all accept that in some shape or form I am going to mention it every single week. This is how I sort of feel watching the World Cup:

I say sort of because it does not apply to England I fear. Unfortunately I want them to beat any and everybody they come up against, including the colonised. I hope you can all forgive me for living my truth.

Last one of the month, so it’s time to rate the month out of ten and define it in three words.

June Rating

Rating: 7/10

Three words: Overstimulation, Juggling, Compromises

As always, would love to know how you’d rate your month and the three words you’d attribute to it. Let me know in the comments?

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Abe’s Three Frees, #024: 15th June - 21st June 2026

1. Beyoncé’s hair product Cecred dropped a video on Father’s Day and it immediately had me in my feels:
   
   Like most, I was shocked and filled with questions when clips emerged of Jay Z headlining Roots Picnic with an afro after years of being on a locs journey. I, too, had both questions and suspicions.
   
   On what I can only presume was not a coincidence, on Father’s Day Cecred dropped this video narrated by the Jigga man himself talking about his locs journey which — at the heart — was catalysed by seeing his own daughter — Blue Ivy’s — insecurities with her own hair, and wanting to support her. Beautiful father-daughter story wrapped up in a piece of branded content:

2. A beautiful letter from a rising footballer:
   
   For those not familiar, The Player’s Tribune is a platform that is a platform that has long been known for personal, first-person letters/stories from athletes across all sports. Recently, whenever the World Cup comes by, there tends to be an uptick in letters open letters published from footballers.
   
   Last week, the open letter Dear Roxane from Ivory Coast’s rising star Yann Diomande’s was published, a tribute to his late sister and unwavering belief that he was destined for greatness. It’s a really beautiful letter and I implore you to read it.
   
   There was one line that immediately broke my heart into tiny little pieces:
   
   I just wish you were still here so I could tell you….. We did it.”
   
   Because I know how many times I’ve thought that about my late friend Wendy. And I’m already sad at how many times I’m going to have to think that about Samantha.
   

3. There’s no shortcuts. Do the thing:
   Rounding out with some really sound advice from my friend Cheo Hodari Coker (creator of the Netflix/Marvel series Luke Cage). It’s about screenwriting, but I think it’s applicable to everything.
   

   

   

   I have so many thoughts on this that it could be its own Substack, but yeah, like Cheo I’m not telling you something I’m not also doing myself. I could moan about plenty. Believe me. But that doesn’t move the needle. Doing the thing is the only thing that does.
   
   There’s no shortcuts.

Back to the World Cup I go, and with no complaints about yet another heatwave being upon us ☺️

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Think of the ‘free’ as ‘free game’ (read: because he thought it had a nice ring to it).

It’s finally here, guys. The World Cup. What a time to be alive.

Having a great time. Though, I must say, the weekend felt weird; four football matches in a day and none of them were during the afternoon? One of many reasons why we need the World Cup to never be in America again in my lifetime. That being said, I’ve quickly settled into a rhythm. Watch the first two matches live (kicking off at 5-6pm and 8-9pm, and watch Love Island after the latter, my first season without Sam 🥲) and then — with the pervert hours matches — I watch the highlights in the morning after my post-gym shower. It’s working, and without disrupting my gym and overall day-to-day life routine too much. Saying that, at time of typing, today’s matches are kicking off at 8pm and 11pm (followed by 2am and 5am) with the latter match due to still be in play past my bedtime (midnight)… I may have spoken too soon.

Not much of note to report from my first week of 35. But — as is the case every year — I received a lot of thoughtful messages from the people I’m loved by and there’s one such message that I’ve kept returning to that I want to share in hope it sparks something in someone who might need it:

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realise that one of the most beautiful things in life is to be seen and — better yet — then having what’s seen reflected at you. If you’re anything like me (dogged, as my friend aptly described it), opportunities to reflect are far and few between, far too occupied with the act of pursuit. The path I’ve taken has a tendency to feel lonely, which is a paradox against the reality of my life: I am undoubtedly surrounded by a village and one that very clearly loves me and lifts me. But I’m sure you can appreciate that, even within that, due to the nature of this pursuit it can still feel tremendously alone, and I think that comes with feeling like nobody can truly get everything that’s going on inside, you know? I say all of that to say, the beautiful message above was spiritually illuminating and serves as a reminder to us all that we should never hesitate to remind our people of their beauty, nor underestimate how much they might need to hear it.

On another note, something that’s not stopped tickling me; I met a friend’s seven month-old child for the first time. Kid looks exactly like his dad. But what’s even funnier about this is that my friend told me about a time baby’s grandmother was walking down the street with the baby and a none the wiser stranger said to her “that child looks exactly like [insert dad’s name here]” — relevant context being that baby’s dad is famous (don’t be weird about it and ask who) and I just thought, what a funny, truly unique life experience.

Offspring stealing their parents’ entire faces is amazing. In fact, this was the first time I’d met my friend’s mum, and it’s equally fascinating how my friend simply took her mother’s entire face. I’ve seen photos of her before so it wasn’t a surprise, but it’s still just truly fascinating. Even thinking about the children in my life, like my goddaughter looking entirely like her father, her cousin looking entirely like her dad etc. just unmistakably being someone’s child… Genetics are a beautiful thing.

Right, preamble done, let’s get into this week’s three frees.

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Abe’s Three Frees, #023: 8th June - 14th June 2026

1. I don’t want Spotify Discover Weekly to serve me any AI music:
   Chat, I feel betrayed. I got got.
   
   I dunno about you but sharing music is a love language and I have people in my life who an integral part of our relationship is that, sending tracks we know the other would like. Imagine my shock when — upon doing so — I learnt that a song I had shared from an artist I’ve enjoyed more than once was, in fact… AI.

   

   Sacre bleu. Even cheekier? The Spotify artist description:

   

   So yeah, I’m gonna need Spotify to create an option to not have AI-recommendations. I don’t want that.
   
   In more positive, real artists that bleed, my Spotify Discover Weekly did put me onto some R&B from an artist called rjtheweirdo. One track led me to his EP At Least She’s Beautiful that I thoroughly enjoyed. If you’re looking for somewhere to start, the song that drew me in was Catchabody. So go give that your time/streams. Viva la reality.

2. If you enjoyed my piece Football, friendship and the thin line between love and hate…
   Or, are an Arsenal fan, then you’ll enjoy More than a Trophy: What Arsenal’s Parade Taught me About Belonging from Colourful Minds, an organisation that works to bridge the gap between mental health services and communities that are often represented. Dr. Julia Ogunmuyiwa, a non-football fan, reflects on the phenom that was Arsenal winning the premier league and asked to black men/Arsenal fans to reflect on what the moment meant to them. The reflections were beautiful and it aligns with much of my takings from the aftermath. Man, football, being a fan, sports in general is such a wonderful thing and is truly serving so many of us more than we realise.
   
   On that note, there are so many reasons I’m happy the World Cup is here this year specifically. It’s unifying qualities amongst football fans (and, even, casuals/non-football fans) is always welcomed but even more so at a time where it means that it ever so slightly reduces how much I have to here Arsenal fans banging on about having won the league. We are suitably distracted, now 🙂
   

3. British Artist David Hockney died:
   
   And, in the week in which he passed, noticing this on my way home felt timely:

   

And that’s that for this week’s Three Frees. By then, England will be two steps closer to winning the World Cup. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

See you same time, same place, next week?

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My earliest birthday memory is my fifth birthday, where my parents — still together at the time — threw a party for me in our first floor Woolwich Common maisonette, flat completely packed out. There is a VHS of this party and I have told myself so many times that I need to get it digitised. I couldn’t tell you where it is but rest assured — like all good hoarding African parents — my mother has most certainly kept it safe somewhere.

Memory is an interesting thing. How much can we truly rely on it? There are three things etched into my memory from that day/video tape that I’ll be curious to see whether they hold up as fact when I eventually digitise and rewatch the video:

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1. The tape begins with a visual introduction, I can see a cyan shade of blue (do kids still know colour names in depth like that? I’m certain Microsoft Paint is the reason why I remember cyan and nothing else) and the intro to Stevie Wonder’s Happy Birthday is playing.

2. There is a moment where my mum’s brother is trying to get me to dance whilst I sulk for God knows what reason. He takes me by both hands and starts pulling me left and right and I very reluctantly return the energy. We’re a family of music lovers, myself included, but I really hated dancing growing up. I think it was something to do with the idea of embarrassment and being the centre of attention, which has tracked well into adulthood. It’s strange, I’d say I’ve always been confident in casual settings, but being confident when the attention is solely on me is definitely a skill that I’ve had to develop along the way.

3. That my favourite song of all time, Mark Morrison’s Return of the Mack, is featured on the tape. Being that my fifth birthday was 7th June 1996 and Return of the Mack topped the charts on 16th April 1996, it seems highly probable.

As a slight side note, thinking about this has sparked an urgent thought: we need to bring back the camcorder uncle/dad who everyone knew would be. Better yet, we need to bring back hobbies for adults, particularly those that benefit one’s community/village. I’m not saying adults don’t have hobbies, but I just suddenly feel all warm and fuzzy at the idea of an uncle of some sort (who would have probably been the age that I am now) having a random interest outside of whatever job he was doing and he’d take great pride and joy in doing it well. In today’s times, it’d be a responsibility bestowed upon either myself or one of my director mates and the thread between then and now is one of interest to me: a generation where the ceiling for an interest was a hobby that they might be known for in the community, versus my generation where said ceiling of leisure is surpassed and instead has the ability to form as dreams and ambitions that can be realistically conceived as a career.

I digress.

As a child, birthdays were tied to getting older. What child can wait to get older?! Oh how youth is wasted on the young, so in a haste to reach new age rather than cherish the simplicity and lesser responsibilities of the age that they find themselves in.

Alas, here I am. Where — like all children — I wished to be. I’m older. An adult. A 35 year-old one. In the lead up to my 35th, I kept returning to and pondering on the commonly used phrase this isn’t how I imagined my life would look at this age. Is this how I thought my life would look aged 35?

I think there’s a tendency for people’s use of this phrase to be laced in pessimism. To that, I’d question the vantage point.

If you’d asked me at fifteen what I thought my life would like when I was 35, I imagine that I’d have told you that I’d be a wealthy, high-flying lawyer. To that, I say thank fuck my life doesn’t look like what I imagined it would look like at this age. Current me would absolutely take the wealth but the rest? Hell no.

I could fixate on all the broader, stereotypical milestones: What’s my living situation? How much do I earn? Can I buy all the trainers I want without looking at the price tag?

What I’d prefer to do instead is look at the day-to-day emotional path I’m navigating through. There are many things that are difficult about my life but at its core, there is both joy and peace that it is a life in which I discovered my passion and purpose, and committed to the fervent pursuit of attaining it. Well, I say attaining it but the truth is, I already have it. I often think that, God forbid I was to die tomorrow, how happy I would be that I recognised my calling and gave it my all. A writer pal shared the below with me the other day which feels fitting:

I listened to Bryan Cranston get asked the other day if he ever considered giving up before things picked up for him & he very emphatically said no and the interviewer asked why & he said because I’m madly in love with it? So why would I ever walk away from something I’m wildly in love with? And I actually really resonated with that answer and found it really warming.

I’m mindful that this article has the potential to catalyse an existential crisis because someone might interpret the whole point as being about finding and living out your purpose. It’s not. I, personally, think that whole notion is overrated but that’s for another.

I’m not an authority on anything, not even my own life. But what I do feel fairly confident about is that nobody is living the life they thought they’d be living. Frankly, if you were to be living whatever version of the life you thought you’d be living, that sounds mighty predictable and predictability is boring. Mundane. Now am I saying the mundanity of being wealthy would be unsatisfying? Well, no. Run me those millions, they’d make me very happy. What I am saying is that through life’s unpredictability is the things we discover that we might never have and the joys within it.

I do want to lend some words of encouragement for anyone who feels like they woke up one day, X year’s old, not living the life they imagined they’d be living at said age:

You are not a tree. And there’s life in the old dog yet. Life is whole and not defined by one single action or facet (e.g. your job), contrary to what people might have you believe. And so I’d like to leave you with a provocation: what parts of your life would you like to look differently that are within your control?

Is it being healthier? Is it indulging in a hobby where the ROI and KPI isn’t financial but is joy, much like it was for the uncles with the camcorders and the aunties who baked? I had planned to spend three weeks in Athens for my 35th birthday but, being a freelancer, I am no stranger to the pains of letting go of plans. Had I fixated on that, I’d have had a pretty miserable birthday. Instead, I fixated on what a happy birthday could like within the resources I had, that would honour and celebrate me and my truth. The result was an easy-going, solo, stress-free day which I navigated at my own pace and did things that made me happy without pressure (I went to church, then to an exhibition, then went to the neighbourhood I grew up in and bought my favourite Chinese takeaway and took it home to watch a film I’ve — to my shame — never seen before: E.T. 🫣).

Perhaps that’s something we should all carry not just on our birthdays but in life. Honouring and celebrating ourselves through making time for ourselves in a world and life that seems to leave us with so little. It may not be how we imagined our life would look, but it shows that the power is still in our hands. All we have to do is reach out and grab it.

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Think of the ‘free’ as ‘free game’ (read: because he thought it had a nice ring to it).

Hello and welcome to another week of Abe’s Three Frees. Last week I turned thirty-five! Wrote a little about it in an Instagram post. Will write a little more about it later this week in my latest fortnightly piece.

I kept the day super simple; went to church, then to The Music is Black exhibition at V&A East. Would recommend for sure (yes, this is me cheating by including it here instead of below as one of my three, you can’t shame me) but I’d encourage that you go when it’s less busy if that’s an option you have. For me, that’ll mean going in the daytime on a weekday, rather than on a busy Sunday afternoon.

In this week’s Three Frees, we are going a little off the beaten track and including some bonuses. I’m not going to make a habit of this, but these are things that will be redundant if I leave them until the end of the month Loosies round-up. It’ll make absolute sense once you get to them.

Okay, you ready? Let’s tuck in.

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Abe’s Three Frees, #022: 1st June - 7th June 2026

1. This week, we’re beginning with VIBES, courtesy of my Spotify Discover Weekly:

   When I close my eyes and listen to this song, I see myself at a Mediterranean beach club on a day bed. The sunglasses are on, so is the bucket hat, both protecting against the glare of the sunshine I’m there to embrace. I’m on a low-key wave, it’s a calmer than usual day and I have a book beside me with all the best intentions of reading it but instead favouring the rare opportunity to take life at a slower, tranquil pace. Perhaps I’m recovering from an enthralling night before. Or, maybe, allowing myself some momentary stillness ahead of a crazy night ahead. And if I’m, instead, led by the lyrics, it feels like getting lost in a summer romance, the woman I can’t believe exists, arriving at the perfect moment, our spirits connecting like they’ve known each other over many lifetimes and poured endless joy into one another yet still feeling so light, filled with whimsy, our thoughtless careening acceleration towards all that is delight and euphoria without consequence…

   Whichever it is, this is the perfect song for that moment. Enjoy.
   

2. We all agree the phones are listening, right?:
   Either that, or I’m expected to believe it was merely a coincidence that — in a week where I didn’t stop banging on about how overstimulated I was — Apple News would serve up a very useful article in Women’s Health (albeit, overstimulation is obviously gender neutral) which included seven ways to reduce overstimulation. If it sounds like you might need that too, have a read.
   

3. A director’s reflections on a decade in film:
   I’m part of a 400+ strong what’s app group called The Directors’ Forum and last week, a director Coz Greenop shared a very relatable reality check on what his experiences have been as a director. On the surface, he’s made seven feature films and two short films. But the reality of what that looks like will be surprising to many that aren’t in our industry.

   DirectorCoz

   A Decade in Film...

   Let me tell you something about independent filmmaking that nobody puts in the brochure…

   Read more

   3 months ago · 13 likes · 6 comments · DirectorCoz

   It was brutally honest, transparent and vulnerable and I take my hat off to Coz, and many of my peers, who against all odds, continue to fight on. And an extra applause to those of us who share these insights. I think it’s really important for those coming up behind us to know what it really can be like. It might deter some which — if I’m honest — I think is a good thing. Not from a competitive space but, rather, I think it’s better for people if they realise they’re not cut out for this before they throw themselves into it, than to realise through taking the journey and suffering the darkest of realities that can sometimes even be fatal for those who it gets all too much for. Equally, for those who it does not deter, I'm glad that pieces like this give them an idea of what they should anticipate and buckle up for.

So. Those bonuses. Well, the World Cup only comes every four years, doesn’t it? And it begins this week! And so, for my bonuses, some things that made me chuckle in the lead-up to the World Cup:

Bonus #1:

Bonus #2:

Buckle up people. World Cup fever is upon us. And, as I say and sincerely believe every international tournament until it is statistically impossible to be true… It’s coming home. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

What’s your plan when it comes home? Let me know in the comments.

And if you would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below:

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If you’re reading this on the day it’s been published — Sunday 7th June — then it is my 35th birthday. Say happy birthday, don’t be rude!

At time of writing, should my day have gone to plan… I will have not long left church (first time I’ve been in a church building for years… 🫣) and on my way to an exhibition.

Will share more when Abe’s Three Frees comes this week.

In case you missed the update in this week’s Abe’s Three Frees, apologies again that this comes a week late; overstimulation got the better of me and I inevitably dropped the ball on something, this.

Everybody feeling loose? Good. Let’s get loosie.

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Abe’s Loosies, #003: May 2026

• Let’s begin with a timely one:

  

• My daily devotional gifted me some words of wisdom on risk:
  

  

• Limbo was created in Trinidad and Tobago. I found out courtesy of this fire photo on Twitter:

  

• Reminder for whenever things get daunting:

  

• Feels complementary:

  

• If you have an iPhone, create a legacy contact immediately. As someone who 1) used to work in a phone shop and 2) has unfortunately grieved more than a few friends, I have first-hand experience of seeing how painful it is for loved ones to — along with losing the individual — also losing the memories stored in their phones.

• Resonate with this. Heavy on the real:

  

• Adidas put their foot right through the bag with their World Cup commercial. Fun fact, it’s the director behind the Netflix’s Beverley Hill Cops 4 (which I’ve not seen; anybody see it? Any good?) Shout out my boy Timmy C forever:

• Some quick advice for the writers amongst:

  

• Walked past something that at a glance looked like a wooden emblem of an African but turned out to be a piece of shit and I just want to highlight that racists are getting more creative than ever with their racism:

  

• Shout out Dragon Ball Z. On top of the below, I’m pretty sure it didn’t start airing in the UK until the noughties (maybe 2000 exactly?):

• Some beautiful art I came across:

• Sometimes you gotta get through it to get through it. Read that again, then read this:

  

• An excerpt from John Pucay’s essay Making Art on Pobre Math in Bread Alone: What happens when we run out of working-class writers?, the anthology that my essay April 29th Reflections was published in. As Kanye Omari West said sixteen years ago, money isn’t everything, not having it is:

  

• Shout out the youth, man. Celebrate life:

• For anyone who needs reminding:

• This hat caught my eye:

• And the wordsmith in me, obvs, couldn’t help but be curious. I was richly rewarded, pun intended:

  

• Don’t ever play on my GOAT’s name in my presence:

• Isn’t this just such a stunning photo taken by David Ramos of Hailey Baptiste obliterating her racket?!:

  

• I shuddered when I read this tweet because boy oh boy have I lived it. Get comfortable with being uncomfortable, asap:

  

• This fella’s preaching the gospel. Never forget that to lead is to serve:

• Don’t compromise on this one. Or anything in matters of romance, in fact:
  

  

• And, lastly, an anecdote that tickled me, in two parts:
  

  

  

Boop. No long ting on the outro. Abe’s Three Frees and a birthday-themed reflection published later this week!

And if you would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below:

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Think of the ‘free’ as ‘free game’ (read: because he thought it had a nice ring to it).

I begin with an offering of an apology; regular readers may have noticed that the last Sunday of the month came and went without a new instalment of Loosies arriving in your inbox. The last week was rather overstimulating and my brain was required to do far too many things in a way that I don’t think is healthy. Inevitably, I was going to drop the ball somewhere and — as Loosies is the one Substack offering of mine that doesn’t have scheduled time in my calendar (changing that) — that was where the hit was taken. Will endeavour to publish it this coming Sunday which, by pure coincidence, is also my birthday.

Otherwise, welcome to a new month, my birthday month 😬. I have thoughts on that which I’m going to try and put into words in a longer piece in a couple weeks… But, for now, let’s get into this week’s three frees all of which, I’ve decided, are going to be about the same thing.

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Abe’s Three Frees, #021: 25th May - 30th May 2026

1. I went to a Random Creatives Dinner 7.0:
   A few months ago, I came across a reel on instagram that really spoke to me. It was from an artist — Olivia Rose — who I hadn’t encountered before, but we had plenty of mutuals. Olivia had decided she wanted to start a supper club where she brings together a bunch of random creatives together of different disciplines for dinner at her’s:

   I was immediately intrigued and enthused; it’s the type of things that quite up my street and — actually — similar to a secret supper club I started a few years ago (no, I’m not sharing anymore because that defeats the purpose of it being a secret 🤐). I signed up for consideration and — rather organically — Olivia and I actually got chatting around that time and here we were, a few months later, it was my turn to attend the dinner.
   

   

   It was everything I imagined it would be and — in what had been quite an overstimulating week — I enjoyed ending my week in a place where I could be present amongst new people (mostly; author Candice Carty-Williams was there and we already knew each other! But at the end of the night, we both observed how much we appreciated this opportunity to connect in a deeper way than we’ve previously been opportune to). There’s an irony to this night in that — by the by — it probably contributed even more to my overall stimulation, but some things are worth it and this was definitely one of them. I’m all for more community and gathering, particularly when it’s not with an ulterior motive. In fact, I’ve found more often than not that when we gather as artists without any expectation or pressure of outcomes relating to our professions that, is in fact where the magic is often found. As was agreed by many of us on the night, when push comes to shove, all you really want is to work with people you like. We get to a point where people’s CVs and track records speak for themselves and such people are a dime a dozen, but it’s whether you’re going to enjoy working with them, their company and all else that matters so much. And, in settings like this, it’s where you find out.
   
   Anyway, I really do love a dinner party, whether it be attending or hosting. I love food, love cooking, love yapping, love plying people with drinks etc. but I think my favourite thing about them is the comfort, especially post-dinner, and how it lends itself to meandering conversation that can go in any which way direction, whether it be in the company of long-time friends, or new ones. Whereas when you’re in many-a-public establishments, there’s a sense of having outstayed you’re welcome.
   
   I say all of this to say if you’re one of my friends and you’re reading this… More dinner parties please. But, in the spirit of leading by example, I’m going to get to putting together plans of hosting my own (to be fair, I promised two friends a couple weeks ago that I’d have them over for dinner soon and really looking forward to it, particularly because I’m in love with the space I’m now living in — which is always a bonus!).
   

2. In advance of dinner, each guest was asked to share a question/conversation starter/provocation that would be asked at random at the table:

   

   The real fun of this question, for me, was where it led us to: would you take the red pill or the blue pill? My answer: the red pill, because curiosity would absolutely get the better of me and, also, if the alternative is to — instead — remain in a mundane life (not that mine is), count me out.
   
   For anybody who’s curious as to the question I asked:
   
   What was the last thing you let go of that made you feel lighter, and what could you let go of next that will have the same impact?
   
   Feel free to leave your answers in the comments to any of these!
   

3. Olivia’s apartment was full of phenomenal photography:
   No surprises, being that she is a photographer (and, as I learnt, her father is too). I didn’t actually ask whether she took this photo but the art of it all truly captured me and so I share it with you:

   

Thanks for tuning in to another edition of Abe’s Three Frees. Before we go, to close out this week I’d love to know: if you were having a dinner party, what dish would feature on your menu that you’d have absolute confidence would go down a treat?

Let me know in the comments, maybe you’ll inspire something I’ll cook for when I throw mine.

And if you would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below:

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At this point, I must pause to clarify: this is not going to be a hate piece. Do I hate Arsenal? Yes. I’ve supported Manchester United for circa thirty years of my life (and, in more recent years, my local team Charlton as a second team which I wrote about in my well-received first piece of 2026). Hating Arsenal comes with the territory of being a London-born and raised Manchester United fan of my generation; that fierce rivalry in my formative years that hit its peak in the early/mid-noughties is something I don’t think any of us will ever quite recover from.

But as a now adult who has been to therapy and does a job which requires them to constantly be introspective and interrogatory of their emotions, I can reconcile and embrace that hate in tandem with the emotional rollercoaster experience that has been the last week when I consider its significance in my life. And so, whilst it’s fuck Arsenal forevermore and a day, it has been beautiful to observe the scenes of the last week. I might even go as far as saying I’ve loved it.

There have been plenty of reflections and I’d love to share them with you (rest assured, none of them will result in me for even one second contemplating going to the parade, and I am disgusted at any fellow Man United fan or rival fans in general who will — get a grip).

To do so, we must do a bit of time-travelling.

[If you’re an Arsenal fan, I’d like to implore you to take me at good faith and see reading this through to the end, no matter how often you might perceive some of the reflections as smug. It’s not, I promise. What’s there for me to possibly be smug about? You are currently having the last laugh whilst my club has not won the premiership in thirteen years, as many of you have continued to remind us for the last week.]

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Tuesday 19th May 2026, 23.12

It’s been nearly two hours since Manchester City failed to beat Bournemouth, making it mathematically impossible for them to go into the final day of the season with a chance of beating Arsenal to the premier league title. The day I’ve been dreading has arrived. Arsenal have been crowned champions. Unbearable times await. And my best friend Aaron, an Arsenal supporter, phones me (from New York, where he lives).

He’s surprised that I haven’t called him to congratulate him on Arsenal winning the league. I’m even more surprised at his surprise. I’m gracious. I have congratulated Esther. I have congratulated Chirag.

These are two friends who both support Arsenal that I am almost always in constant dialogue with and, more importantly, football is not off-limits in said dialogue. We are capable of having reasonable, balanced conversations about the sport, including our own teams — regardless of how much we hate each other’s.

But, with Aaron — and the majority of my friends who support Arsenal — it’s different. For a long time, now, Aaron and I have been operating under what I thought was an unspoken but mutual agreement: we don’t talk about football (bear in mind, we lived together for two years not long ago). I’m someone who gives as good as I get. And, let’s be honest, Manchester United have largely been a shit show for the thirteen years since our irreplaceable manager Sir Alex Ferguson left the club.

I’ve had to learn to be able to take the banter. But for many of my mates who support Arsenal, it’s not the same. And I get it, I guess. That twenty-two years of banter and your disappointments being used as a proverbial punching bag from football fans far and wide eventually becomes draining when it feels like you are the sole custodian of the jumper of laughter, regardless of the fortune of others.

Whilst I know, of course, that Aaron’s call was in part in jest, I took this as an opportunity to highlight our unspoken agreement. We had a good old laugh about it and he said to me ‘I don’t think you understand, you’re the reason I hate Manchester United so much.’

For those who might not be able to imagine, I was an absolute terror of a football fan in my secondary school/6th form days — unbearable when you consider the majority of my friends supported Arsenal, I can’t actually remember a single Manchester United fan in my core friendship group, come to think about it. Now add the additional context that, of those seven years, Manchester United won 4/7 premier league titles (Chelsea, two, Arsenal one), you can see how our formative years may have scarred. Surprised them boys never rushed me to be honest. Oh, and a couple years after that, we also watched the Manchester United - Arsenal game that ended 8-2 to at my mum’s house.

Not only did it make perfect sense how our friendship — specifically in the context of football — had reached this point, it also complemented a reflection I’d shared with Esther a few months back about a day in football I’ll never forget, for all the wrong reasons.

Sunday 13th May 2012, 16.53

It’s the final day of the premier league season. Manchester United have won their game and if results stand as they are, they will be reigning premier league champions once again, impossibly being rescued from our own failings of recent weeks that have left us needing our Manchester rivals to fall at the final hurdle in order of us to succeed. But that’s when it happens. In the dying moments, the most dramatic moment of football I’ve certainly ever witnessed, Sergio Aguero scores for Manchester City, making the score 3-2 and not only winning the match but snatching the title from Manchester United’s hands.

I’m watching the match with my lifelong friend and fellow Manchester United fan Femi, in his mum’s living room. We are absolutely stunned. Devastated. Broken. Our friend and Arsenal supporter Tomi (the third in the trio that I now go to Charlton games with), couldn’t be happier. When I say he couldn’t be happier, I mean that he screamed down the house, immediately took his shirt off and ran out into the streets topless, celebrating. The kind of celebration you’d expect from an actual Manchester City fan.

London-born Manchester United fans of my generation are often asked why they seemingly hate Arsenal more than the true geographical rivals of Manchester United: Manchester City and Liverpool. Everyone has their own personal answer and I think there is a great deal of intellectual dishonesty (or, a lack of intellect altogether) from anyone who is incapable of figuring out the answer themselves.

Along those lines, I was recently asked in earnest by Esther something along the same lines, particularly pertaining to the premiership title race and why I’d rather see local rivals Manchester City win the premiership over Arsenal. When I remembered this anecdote and the pain felt, that I still feel, when I think of that day and how Tomi behaved… I’m actually a bit surprised mine and Tomi’s friendship survived that day, come to think about it. I explained to Esther that there is no implication on my day-to-day life if Manchester City win the league. If Arsenal do, however? I mean, for most of the season, Tomi has been telling me that I better hope that Arsenal don’t win the league with a promise that he’ll be utterly unbearable. Bear in mind that he, like Aaron, is another person I avoid talking to about our football teams.

May I also add that this the same person who — when I was assigned him for Secret Santa two Christmases ago — I was able to put aside my Arsenal hatred to buy him a limited-edition Arsenal jersey that was in collaboration with the streetwear brand Aries (going over budget in the process) because I knew how much he would love it and I love getting good gifts. In fact, I even contemplated getting him a ticket to a game but still hadn’t reached that level of maturity.

In fact, it goes deeper than that. Back to primary school days

Not with Tomi, though. But with my uncle (my favourite family member), my mum’s brother. A staunch Arsenal fan (who has always reminded me a little bit of Ian Wright — being a South London boy himself). Every now and then, my dad likes to remind me of an anecdote that I in fact think he recalls inaccurately.

One Sunday in my childhood home, a flat in Woolwich, my uncle, childhood friend Demola (also an Arsenal fan) and myself were watching Manchester United vs. Arsenal. The latter won. My dad claims that I cried on this day due to how much I was teased at the loss, which is the detail I dispute. Not from a point of shame, I’m in touch and at peace with showing my emotions, I just don’t think it’s true. I’m sure I sulked a tremendous amount (and probably even tried to fight my uncle LOL) but I doubt I’d have cried about it. In any case, if it’s not already clear, the rivalry in one shape or another has always been alive and very present in my life.

The truth

I think it was around January that I’d began to make peace with the idea of Arsenal winning the premier league title this season. At that point, with a ten-point lead, it seemed pretty inevitable. Football, however, is never straightforward and there have been multiple occasions since then where it’s seemed like Arsenal were once again going to bottle it. As you know now, they did not. They held their steel.

But, having had months to make peace with the potential prospect of my enemies being victorious, I think there was an element of myself that had unconsciously prepared for what it might feel like. As an adult, I know that it is very irritating for someone to piss on your parade, no pun intended. There are few things I find more annoying in life than when I can tell someone is actively going out of their way to wind me up. And, whilst I’m no saint, I do try to be conscious of not doing it to others and knowing where the line is.

In the last two months of the title race, I’ve observed a heightened level of anxiety and, with that, an additional sensitivity to my Arsenal-supporting friends. Can I blame them? Not really. I don’t say this to labour the point or mock, but twenty-two years is a long time. In those twenty-two years they have often been the butt of the joke and, with the advent of social media, the mockery has both magnified and intensified.

If you were to ask most Arsenal fans you know, they’d feel similarly to Aaron about Man United fans. They’d almost certainly describe us with one word: c*nts.

As someone who actively tries not to fit the stereotype, the way that anxiety has manifested in my life in the last two months has been a point of frustration. As an example, the Arsenal fans in my life that I see the most are my five year-old goddaughter’s parents, typically seeing them on average once a week. With our busy adult lives (and, for them, also parents responsible for keeping two tiny human beings alive and well), sometimes the most convenient time to see each other is combining it with something else, a shared interest like, you know… Football. But I’ve been banned from the house during Arsenal matches in the closing months of the title race, because there’s been too many times I’ve been there and Arsenal have lost. To clarify, this hasn’t been because of my behaviour during those results, but because I’m seen as bad luck.

That thin line I mentioned

If you’ve been on any social media platforms over the last week, you will have inevitably seen some form of Arsenal Football Club content, either of the players, the fans, or both. Much of it has warmed my heart, as much as I resisted. But it was this one, below, that completed the thawing of whatever resistance was left in me: the Arsenal players entering training for the first time since they’d been crowned champions and giving their reactions on how the last few days have been.

It was just so… human. And that’s what it’s about. That what I connect with. Be it the fans or the players. The journey, the strife, the continued picking self up after disappointments and setbacks to once again fight for that thing you want so badly and have dedicated your entire being to the pursuit of.

That is a feeling I can feel in my bones.

The joy I see in them is the one I wake up everyday in pursuit of in my own life.

And, actually, with the state of the world, it’s something universal that many are connecting with. I have seen far and wide on social media people with zero interest in football express how joyful they feel seeing the joy of Arsenal fans.

The feeling reminds me of being in Athens last year on a writing programme. I shared the Eze signing video with a new writer friend on the programme who wasn’t a fan of football at all.

And whilst I shared it with her, I explained how and why I resonated with it so much and by the end of the conversation we were both in floods of uncontrollable tears. I remember joking to her that anybody who knew me would be completely shocked that something associated with Arsenal could evoke such an emotional response from me and as I type this, I am surprised that I’ve reached a level of maturity where I can gift my enemies with such ammunition.

The celebrations have been tremendous and they’ll be here for some time still. It’s been beautiful to see, even seeing Tomi so happy. In fact, only yesterday he sent a voice note in our trio’s group chat:

In all seriousness, banter and rivalry aside… You see, two things. Firstly. The feeling — this, I know, pthat] what this football thing does to us, is insane — you see the feeling of waking up every morning yeah, and remembering within the first fifteen minutes of your eyes opening that your team are champions of the country. Brudda? You see the feel- [exhales] it’s indescribable. The joy. The peace. The pleasure. The pride. That like runs and scintillates through your body is a mad ting. I’ve not experienced anything like this in my life. Nothing like this. Brudda?! It’s mad. Like. Even when your child is born. That rush. And the buzz, you feel it for the first couple of days (laughs) d’you know what I mean? And maybe every now and then when you look at them, you get overwhelmed. But you see- so far, yeah? Every single day that I’ve woken up and risen in the morning, my body and my mind is just illuminating. With happiness. It’s fucking crazy! This?! I’ve never known a moment or a love like this, it’s crazy.

The new generation, and the old

At the age of 5, in 1996, I made the decision to support Manchester United. Not because we won the league that year — I had no idea — but because my two best friends in primary school supported Manchester United/Newcastle and I chose the former based on favourite colour at the time being red.

At the age of 5, in 2026, my goddaughter supports Arsenal because both of her parents do and I have watched her be quietly radicalised over the course of this season to the point where I’m fully anticipating her becoming an ultra if this trajectory continues. On the morning after, I was sent a video of her learning shortly after she woke up for school that Manchester City lost and she immediately rejoiced because she knew what it meant: Arsenal had become champions and she would be going to the parade.

Football is cyclical. Nothing lasts forever. I can confirm that as a 34 year-old who just so happened to be born into the most successful era of his team’s history, only to then see them completely unravel to now, where there is reason for hope under a new manager I genuinely believe can restore us to our former glory.

There have been points where I’ve wished that my goddaughter supported Manchester United but, having seen her joy last week, I’m happy she doesn’t. I love my bond with my goddaughter and there is much of it that reminds me of that with my uncle none of which is to do with football.

But now that there’s that added layer, too, to our relationship. I look forward to the moments I’m going to get to experience with her where I’ll tease her when Arsenal aren’t doing well and — in the other direction — she will without a doubt do the same. Though she won’t realise it at the time, it will be character building and — if I’m honest with myself — there’ll be the tiniest little part inside of my that will be proud of her when she’s giving it back to me.

And it was that which made me realise there was one person I still owed a congratulations.

Football, quite simply, is theatre. It has all the ingredients that make theatre so compelling; the stakes, the unpredictability and the very real possibility of the outcome being a complete surprise whether it be in one’s favour or not.

With it also comes fandom. As Esther said to me, it doesn’t exist in an echo chamber or vacuum. Bragging rights, banter, it’s all part of it.

There was a little bit more to Tomi’s voice note:

I think, also, how old I am now as well. The level of appreciation for this is… It’s just different. It’s evolved. Man was, how old was I when we last won it… 17? Maybe a bit younger. So I was a young, young adult and I can obviously remember it. But I think there’s another level of appreciation I’m feeling right now. And the only reason I’m saying this to you man, because I think you can probably, genuinely appreciate — I think even for you guys it’s been thirteen years now — genuinely, no shade. But when it does happen again? You’re gonna come back to this voice note.

And he’s so spot on. It’s like, in recent years, with age, I’ve found a new appreciation of what it is to be a football fan. When people say silly things like “well you’re old enough now to know that you should have supported a London team so why don’t you just change now?!” for a true fan, a football team is for life. For better or for worse. I absolutely love my team, and I love how much my friends love their team. I love that this silly sport where twenty-men kick a ball across a patch of grass absolutely has our emotions in bondage and has the capacity to make or ruin our day. It is so entirely ridiculous yet, wow, I cannot believe that there are people who live life without experiencing the potential joy a football team can bring them.

Yes allowing that to potentially rule our emotions — good and bad — are, objectively, utterly ridiculous.

And we wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Think of the ‘free’ as ‘free game’ (read: because he thought it had a nice ring to it).

I’m British, so of course I can’t start this without acknowledging the heatwave that those of us in the UK are currently having. To anybody complaining about it … Take a chill pill 🤪

Jokes aside, what a marvellous blessing from nature (well, global warming, lols) that we’d be blessed with such glorious weather on a bank holiday weekend. I spent the majority of it in the Sun like the true Brit I am.

What I will say is that a combination of the heat, my galavanting and all else feels like it’s had a knock-on to cognition. So much so, that I almost forgot that — being that this is the last week of the month — I owe you a little something!

For anyone new here, in the last Abe’s Three Frees that gets published in this month, I rate the month out of 10, describe it in three words and invite you all to do the same in the comments.

May Rating

Rating: 7.5/10

Three words: Routine, Waiting, Energised

Good enough, that. Good enough. Let’s get into this week’s ATFs.

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Abe’s Three Frees, #020: 18th May - 24th May 2026

1. Michaela Coel and Ian McKellen in a film together. Directed by Steven Soderbergh. More than enough reason to see it:

   

   Often felt like a play (complimentary). A good old two-hander. But with — unsurprisingly — electric performances. If you invited the 2011 French film The Intouchables then you’ll likely like this one too.
   
   I watched it using my MUBI Go subscription (which was a gift); if you’re unfamiliar with MUBI Go; it’s the premium offering from the streaming service MUBI. As well as the streaming, you get one free cinema ticket a week to watch whatever the Mubi Go film of the week is. If you want to go cinema more regularly and you’re anything like me, it’ll motivate you to do so more as to not waste the perk — especially as my go-to cinema is Cineworld (I have an unlimited card), but the Mubi cinemas are the nice(r) ones. You know, the Everymans, Picturehouses and independent cinemas.
   

2. Legends on Netflix is ace:

   

   I binged this 6-part, presumably limited series over the weekend when I wasn’t in the sun. Set in the early 90s, a bunch of regular degular custom agents go undercover and are tasked with bringing down the drug underworld as heroine threatens to wreak havoc around the country. Wicked untold story, quality cast (slowed a little in the last two eps, I’ll admit, but a worthwhile payoff).
   
   A fun fact, episode 1-4 is directed by Brady Hood, who I shadowed on Top Boy. Brilliant director, lovely human being and with great taste in work. There’s not a series Brady’s directed on that I’ve watched and not enjoyed (highly recommend Prime Target on Apple TV).

3. Some words of encouragement about building habits, applicable to all areas of life:
   
   

   

   Shared from my mate Ifey, from the James Clear 3 2 1 newsletter. I don’t know who that is but if you’re moved by those words and feel like you could do with more of them, I’ve gone through the trouble of hyperlinking the newsletter subscription page for ya.

The brevity (more than usual) of this week’s Abe’s Three Frees is sponsored by post-bank holiday fatigue, this being my last task of the day and the sweltering heat. I’m not complaining about it, I promise. But I’m cooked. Pun intended.

One last thing to say. The majority of this week was largely dominated by one thing. You’d have to be living under a rock to not know what that is.

Ever so slightly begrudgingly, that thing is what my net fortnightly piece will be about.

Tune in on Friday for that 🙂.

And if you would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below:

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Think of the ‘free’ as ‘free game’ (read: because he thought it had a nice ring to it).

Welcome to another week of Abe’s Three Frees. I’m coming off the back of what felt like my most productive week of 2026 thus far, and I didn’t expect that going into the week. I expected a good level of productivity; it was another week to continue chipping away at the psychological horror feature I’m writing on spec and I had three meetings in my schedule that I was looking forward to. But the surprises were firstly, that all of those meetings (especially one) brought more than I’d anticipated going into them. And then — outside of that — I had sotame blurry socialising (a term I just coined to describe the area that much of my life falls into: work that isn’t work but is work, y’know?) which also catalysed some movement on a particular project that has been quiet for a couple of years.

I think the way I’d summarise this week is divinity; so many of the unrelated components ended up influencing and informing other parts of my week and work and I felt so invigorated by it all. I ended the week utterly exhausted and was delighted to be able to stay in bed for a significant portion of my Saturday (‘til late afternoon) relaxing and watching football — albeit whilst sending emails. I left bed a few times; to put clothes in the washing machine (that I later discovered — when ready to leave the house — I’d not switched on), toilet/bathroom activities and to break my fast. But it was nice to move at my own pace.

I also did something which perhaps I’ll write about another time; whilst in bed sending those emails I found myself informally auditing work and what I could do better to achieve some of the things I’m frustrated I don’t currently have. What followed was an email to my agent with these thoughts, so we can combine our minds to see how we think we can go about achieving those things in the short term.

I’ve realised in recent years that the approach of my birthday (June 7th) seems to unconsciously have me internally reviewing how my year has gone so far, because it’s a midpoint. And, whilst I’ve never been someone who gets fussed much about getting older and what I should and shouldn’t have achieved by a certain age, I do think about what I want to be able to show for the year (calendar and/or year of life). There’s been a lot of change in my life between my last birthday in this. I always knew there was going to be, but absolutely not the kind of change that’s taken place. Not necessarily a bad thing even though, some of it has been sad. Someone aptly said to me recently, discomfort is the only way to grow and that feels tremendously fitting.

Whilst I’ve had myself reflect (and, audit) how the first half of 2026 has gone, I hope between now and my birthday to spend a bit more time also auditing the last year of my life in a similar fashion in a way that clarifies my intention for my new year of life. Sounds like a plan!

Right then, we gonna get into these Three Frees or what?

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Abe’s Three Frees, #019: 11th May - 17th May 2026

1. A friend shared this beautiful excerpt from an even more beautiful essay in our group chat:

   

I highly recommend reading the full essay, The Quiet Grief of Adult Friendship. It’s not a long read at all and don’t be put off by the title or even the tone of how it begins, it’s a really heartwarming piece. The tl;dr? All we really have is each other, never forget it, always find a way to prioritise it, at all costs. It’s what makes us feel alive.

2. The more interesting theatre might be the fringe stuff, away from the bright lights:
   
   In Abe’s Three Frees #010, I wrote about the most interesting theatre I’d seen in a while: the improv concept Talking People. I went again this week and it once again did not fail to disappoint. But what I also went to see — courtesy of a friend who knows the writer/lead actor — was a play that was only on for three nights (sorry!) called The Time Has Passed. Nathaniel Brimmer-Beller’s play was a simple two-hander about a first date between an author and tech bro sis, with a nifty time-loop device and an exploration of timely topics surrounding the value and perils of both art and technology (and those who make them). There’s something I’m really enjoying at the moment about lesser polished work, feeling closer to rawer, fresh voices and emotions that I want to keep engaging with and encouraging others to as well. The economics of it all is also not lost on me; customers are being priced out of experiences and artists are getting priced out of being able to make art, and so something that’s a little closer to the ground that’s been fuelled by people figuring out a way to make art at all costs… I may have a bias towards giving that my money at the moment (albeit, I had a comp ticket for this).

Separately, it was also really nice to have a long, overdue catch-up with the friend who took me. We had some really beautiful, nourishing conversations about the play, about our industries and our personal lives. When we parted ways, we promised we wouldn’t leave it so long until our next catch-up and as I type that, I realise how unintentionally complementary that is to the message of the essay I shared.

3. Kevin Hart retired the winner of Funny AF from his side job:
   
   SPOILER ALERT: If you have not watched/finished Netflix’s Funny AF and intend to, do not scroll down beyond here as you will clearly see who has won.
   
   Watching this clip made my heart melt and if anybody is watching this and would like to show a similar sentiment to Kevin’s in acknowledging that [redacted] needs to be fully focused on comedy in order to fulfil the potential he’s displayed.

Bank holiday this coming weekend. If you’re in London the weather is SEXY.

Make sure you enjoy it! ‘til next week ❤️

And if you would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below:

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Two months on, I know many people have purchased the anthology (so much so that the publisher had to do a reprint as the initial run sold out) and, to those people, thank you for supporting us!

Have you read the essay? If you have, do let me know in the comments. Outside of the book launch event, I’ve hardly spoken to anyone who has and would love to; I poured so much of me into it and have quietly looked forward to it being out in the world. If you’ll allow me to be really vulnerable for a second, in some ways the experience has been underwhelming. It feels a bit weird knowing I have a piece of work out there — particularly one with such a level of vulnerability — and having no clue who has read it nor what they think, in comparison to other works of mine. I guess the other mediums I work in make for simpler communication (both direct and indirect) between audience and artist ; if it’s theatre, the artist hears how the audience respond. If it’s film, same if it’s a screening or — if it’s online — comments. And this very medium here, Substack, of course has a comment section. With a book, intentionality and effort (and perhaps, even, courage?!) can serve as a hurdle and potential barrier for the audience that prevents their thoughts ever getting to me. So this is me laying myself bare and saying… Tell me if you’ve read the essay. Share your thoughts with me. I want to know 🥹

For those unaware, and as the title of my essay suggests, it is a reflection of that date but across six years; 2020-2025. On April 29th 2020, the biggest moment of my career at that point happened: my directorial debut No More Wings won best narrative short at Tribeca Film Festival and it quickly changed my life and creating a new anniversary in my life that catalyses reflections whenever it comes ‘round. Like what I thought my life was going to look like going forward from that moment, versus the reality, good and bad (particularly the very shitty things that happened in 2021 on that very same date). In the essay, I committed those reflections to the blank page for them to, then, be immortalised forever in print.

As the date neared this year and, with the essay out in the world, I considered: could this be the start of a new tradition? That I would add a new entry, via Substack, reflecting on April 29th? Great idea, I guess, but the reality has been less straightforward. Though the essay is written in the style of a diary/journal, it is written with the gifts of both hindsight and foresight. When I was writing about 2020-2024, it was with the knowledge of where I was in the present of 2025. Similarly, in writing all of those entries including 2025, I was also aware of the intention: I was writing an essay that would be published in a book and was saying something. It was answering the question: What happens when we run out of working-class writers?

Like many-a-Substack of mine, I often come into them with a vague idea of what I want to write or say, but not entirely sure and trust I’ll figure it out in the writing. I think, just there, I found the answer of how I write this piece. It’s to once again write a piece that reflects on that question and gives some sort of an answer, insight, whatever it becomes.

What happens when we run out of working-class writers?

Time to write the entry.

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April 29th, 2026.

When I remember to do so, the first thing I do before I begin my working day on a Wednesday is check to see if I’ve won the Euromillions (jackpot: £22,735,651) or any money on the £1 scratchcard I buy with it (top prizes — plural — of £100,000, but you could also win £5,000, £1,000, £100, £40, £20, £10, £5, £4, £2 and £1). I consider myself a humble lottery player: I don’t need that jackpot. Would I like it? Sure. Love it, even. Who wouldn’t? But me? The Euromillions guarantees to make one player a millionaire twice a week via its raffle. If you happen to find yourself with the winning Millionaire Maker code, you will receive £1,000,000. Tax-free. I’d like to take this moment to say that, whilst I would be very grateful for that win, I would not consider myself a millionaire if I won considering that I would very, very quickly no longer be above the million mark. I digress.

On this occasion, as is the case every few weeks or so (I don’t keep count; I have no desire to confirm that I am making a loss), I’ve won a little money that I can reinvest. £2. Do not despise these small beginnings.

With these small winnings I get from time to time, I keep them on my desk and allow them to pile up until the next time there is a Euromillions draw where — instead of one Millionaire Maker — there is going to be ten. Higher odds!

Last year, I recall very vividly an interaction I had with filmmaker friend Thea Gajic where I said:

I don’t know how as a filmmaker from a working-class background, you ain’t playing the lottery every fucking week.

Because that’s what we’re doing with our careers anyway. Playing the lottery. In fact, another filmmaker friend, Femi Oladigbolu, earlier this week joked ‘the odds are probably better on the lottery!’

With no life-changing winnings, the writing day begins because — somehow — miraculously, I am still a full-time* writer-director. The asterisks is because I’m not currently making enough to solely write and direct, so I must make ends meet through other (legal) methods. Of recent, that’s looked like the occasional transcribing and admin support gig that I do for an artist friend which has very much been a life-saver since 2024. Then there’s the men’s mental health workshops I was asked to facilitate for a charity recently. But I did do a one-day writers room recently, too. That’s not to say that I’ve only spent one day as a writer. I am a writer-director every single day whether I am paid for it not.

I’ll be honest with you, half the time, I do not know how I am surviving. When I flippantly share broad strokes of my financial setup to my friends and they question how I’ve survived, I just respond exactly. I don’t know! Between the occasional new commission, an instalment from an active commission, a grant or a bursary (Society of Authors, Directors Charitable Foundation and all other organisations that have supported over the years, we thank you.) or the out of the blue miracle of a Japanese streamer wanting to buy the license/rights to stream No More Wings on their platform for one year.

And then there’s the ones that hit your pride a lil, even though they shouldn’t. Like universal credit which — as a self-employed/business owner with a demonstrably profitable business — supports people like you in times like this and, in your life, means you have the safety net of knowing you can cover your rent for the next twelve months in any month where you don’t meet the earnings threshold they provide, with the caveat being that you cannot get a job. Because you have a job, running your business and this safety net they provide you is so that you can focus on that. Nothing comes for free, you’ve paid your taxes and into this system, they have the evidence to prove it, that’s why they are willing to support you. So they do that. Or the borrowing money from loved ones, an act you’re so fucking tired of. And, whether they admit it or not, you know they’re a little tired of it too. But they love you. And, you’d argue that — more significantly — they believe in you. That’s why they keep doing it. And, whilst, equally, you are grateful to have those people to turn to who can keep you afloat whilst you wait, it doesn’t make you any less tired of having to be that person whilst you wait. The bane of this profession. The waiting.

Let’s talk about what waiting looks like currently:

• Under immense pressure, a deluge of life emergencies and knowing how imperative it was to keep your mental health intact, you delivered a series pitch back in November because the production company were in a hurry to be able to go out and pitch it due to strong interest expressed by a commissioner about both the idea and you as a writer specifically. At time of writing, they are yet to go out and pitch that series that they put all that pressure on you to deliver asap.

• Twelve out of eighteen months of an option/contract you signed (that you were paid handsomely for) have passed on a TV pilot you’ve written. It remains promising, the production company’s communication is relatively good and they keep you updated on their plans to pitch and get this bought buy a broadcaster/network/streamer so that you can be paid to continue to work on it. We have lunch scheduled in a few weeks, to plan next steps.

• Now that the feature script of Chasing the Night has been optioned (far less handsome fee than the above, but with a producer you’ve known a long time and you trust who presented a strategy for a root-to-finance/production that blew your socks off), seeing if things can pull together for you to make a big, bold (and, paid!!!) step towards making your debut feature film. If that root-to-finance/production delivers. If those interested parties decide to put money on the table.

• Seeing if — now that you know the the numbers don’t match up to your expectations — if a deal that both parties will be happy with can be made on a feature film you were recently approached to come on board of as a writer.

• The outcome of a meeting you had for a one-week writers’ room you had recently that you’ll be devastated if you don’t get because the TV series reminds you of so many different ideas you’ve wanted to write over the years. Though they’ve kept your team well updated, the date has passed and been moved more than once as to when they would confirm if they wanted you, and the date (which you suspect will probably be pushed back) as to which you’d been told it’d likely be taking place, nears.

• A meeting off the back of another meeting that took place last year, where the producer had mentioned — without detail — a piece of IP they were attempting to get the rights to, which they felt you would be a good fit for adapting. The meeting should’ve happened in January but has been repeatedly rescheduled. People are busy, I guess.

• Updates on opportunities I’ve applied for, like schemes, writers retreats, etc. (some of which are paid! Others, good for development, networking and potentially helping to next steps). Though, if I’m honest, I don’t think about those much. That’s something that’s really important to me, for my mental health. Whenever I apply for anything, I deliberately do not retain the information about when to anticipate hearing back. No matter how brilliant one is, the odds are never in your favour. So it’s better to just forget about it the moment you send off that application. It’ll come back to you eventually, and there’s no use in expending mental capacity on it.

• And then there’s the unknowns. The things you can’t control. The email that brings unexpected/unplanned paid opportunity because, you know, you are a writer-director who has the scripts and short films to show for it which means that, one day, someone will just get in touch and say they want you for something and it’ll be straightforward. Just like that one-day writers room that fell into my lap.

• And the domino effect, then, to your actual life and the inability to plan or commit to things. Like the holiday you wanted to take to your beloved Athens to coincide with your birthday. Or the years-in-the-making destination holiday 40th birthday of a friend. And the knowing that before you can do any of those luxuries, first you must of course do the responsible and right of paying back those you owe, those very same friends who love and believe in you that won’t admit they’re tired of it all. And then, even more granular, the everyday life. The things that shouldn’t require thought yet somehow end up feeling like luxuries. Like do you really need to buy new fucking socks? Do you actually need to have that specific supplement in your vitamin/supplement/wellbeing rotation?
  
  May God be your strength.
  
  In light of all of this waiting and the feelings it sparks, this, feels fitting:

Amidst all of this there is, still, the navigation of grief. Since the last April 29th, two friends are no longer with me. Jane was less surprising — having been battling cancer for three years — but still heartbreaking. Samantha, though? Unexpected, rip your heart out devastating. There’s no preparing for that. I don’t think there have been many — if any — times in my life that I’ve ever felt truly angry at God, but this was one of them. Not just because of the sudden, unexpected nature of loss but because of the very intense life emergency I was dealing with in that moment, too. Reminds me of something I’d said in passing to a friend a few days before Samantha’s passing, apropos of nothing:

Life don’t know what time is, time don’t know what life is.

How bitterly and unnecessarily fitting.

God and I have gotten over that and made up but, for weeks, I’ve not really been praying or starting my writing day how I usually begin it: reading my daily devotion and having a little prayer. The words above, however, are from that daily devotion now that I’ve returned to it and they feel apt.

Life as a working-class writer is filled with constant anxiety and worry. But, with my faith, more often than not I’m able to cast those emotions away and somehow, some way, focus on my writing. I would argue that, unfortunately, nearly half of my time and energy — whether conscious or unconscious — is spent fighting that off in order to be able to create freely. I’ll say it again, nothing comes for free. But we push on, trusting in all the signs and indicators that have come along the way, that the time is coming. That at the end of the wait sits reward.

Through waiting, through grief, through anxiety and through worry… Gratitude, somehow, remains. This is my first week back to work since March 2nd, the day that Samantha passed.

I feel gratitude that I could, essentially, pause my life to take care of myself. I continued do anything that was necessary (including deliver those workshops I mentioned), but everything else took a pause whilst I dealt with the initial stages of grief and also resolving that emergency. That is a beauty of being a full-time writer-director that I cannot take for granted. When your wellbeing is so intricately linked with your ability to honour your craft anyway, you don’t really have any choice.

And now, being in a better place and also that I feel like a natural (yet inconclusive) conclusion has been reached of this entry, I can write.

For me, writing is hope. So, as always, here’s to hoping that the 2027 entry will include news of a lottery win.

Metaphorical, or otherwise.

I’d like to close out by highlighting something that I’ve been contending with at the back of my mind that, naturally, found a home in this above piece.

Both in the UK and US, particularly amongst working-class and writers/directors of colour, there is an ongoing frustration about a lack of transparency about how people are making ends meet and hanging in there when the thing that’s meant to pay you isn’t going to plan. I don’t think people who are withholding this information are doing so maliciously and, as I’ve often said, I’ve privately and offline been very transparent about all of these things when asked.

Whether it be odd jobs, charitable organisations or the department of work and pensions, I imagine that — like me — there are options that people could be taking to aid their survival that they are not aware of. Recently, filmmaker Thea Gajic who I mentioned earlier was on The Directors Take Podcast talking about her debut film Surviving Earth. When asked about financially surviving as a filmmaker, Thea was very open and transparent about the difficulties — especially as a single mum — and spoke about receiving universal credit, encouraging anybody listening to not have any pride or shame to seek it out if they need it to support their dreams and ambitions.

Thankfully for me, that pride/ego thing was something that I conquered over a decade ago when my partner at the time (who — I think it’s worth noting — came from a very different background to me, a privileged one) encouraged me to do so with the same logic that I now embrace:

You’ve paid into that system, why would you feel ashamed of using it?

In hearing Thea speak about it so candidly on the podcast and essentially reinforce the same, it once again brought to the forefront for me that the more of us speak about it, the more likely someone else will read or hear it, know it’s okay and make things a little easier for themselves.

So, to that, I say thank you to Thea for her continued contributions to the ecosystem and being the reason why another filmmaker might be able to hang on in there a little later and increase their odds of getting to the top of the totem pole. I continuously say that I cannot, in good conscience, encourage anybody working-class and/or a person of colour to pursue this path. As a friend once pointed out to me, if someone told me not to, would I listen? So, despite all those warnings, anyone would be crazy enough to ignore them, I at least hope I and we can do our part to best equip them with surviving it.

Lastly, I’d like to gently remind you that the anthology Bread Alone: What happens when we run out of working-class writers? includes my essay April 29th Reflections, a prelude to this post, that chronicles 2020-2025. So if you enjoyed this post, please consider buying the anthology so you can read my essay as well as the other brilliant essays that respond to that same provocation and provide and insight to the life and times of being a working-class writer today.

Got some thoughts on this? You should know by now that I’d love to see you in the comments 🙂

And if you would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below:

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Think of the ‘free’ as ‘free game’ (read: because he thought it had a nice ring to it).

Yes yes my people, welcome to another Abe’s Three Frees. Thank you for the responses of music recommendations last week, I’m looking forward to listening to Isaiah Rashad’s new album It’s Been Awful (love this title) and Smino’s blkswn later today, I’m sure I’ll enjoy them. I’ve listened to Isaiah Rashad in passing over the years and enjoyed his music, but I’d made a mental note to make sure I listen to this album after seeing this message he’d put out on instagram:

Vulnerability, honesty, truth, in art. Gimme gimme gimme.

Anyway, my week. Cool, I guess? Another normal one. This new project is proving rather tricky to crack. It’s uncomfortable, frustrating, feels like I’m not progress. But I know I am. And I know that this, sometimes, is part of the process. Hitting walls is progress. Changing directions is progress. Questions begetting more questions is progress. Etc etc. Here’s to another week of thinking, searching, excavating and inching closer to the point where I can get to the fun part: writing the script.

By the way, anyone ever lost their AirPods charging case? What a stupid fucking to do. I did it last week. I got home from the gym, took my laundry off the rack and then proceeded to shower and couldn’t find my case to put them in. Looked around the house multiple times, then went back to the gym and checked the last stations I’d worked out at plus asked the staff if it had been handed in. Went back home and retraced my steps from gym to home to see if I’d perhaps dropped it on my way home. Then went back to the gym a second time when I remembered I’d used the toilet before I left and recalled putting my phone on the tissue holder, and wondered if I might’ve also put the case there. Upon accepting that the case was dead and gone, I proceeded to order a 3rd party replacement on Amazon that would arrive same day (because whooooo is barebacking the gym the next day?!), then read the shocking reviews. And so proceeded to eBay and found a genuine Apple set that would arrive a few days later at which point I’d return the 3rd party ones. What a colossal waste of time that I self-engineered through carelessness.

If you haven’t realised, I sometimes have a tendency to be incredibly neurotic.

In the last of random ish I wanna share in this intro, whilst walking home on Friday night I saw a mouse get run over. It was like I saw it happen in slow motion. Let me set the scene:

It’s dark and relatively quiet. I see something incredibly tiny heading in the direction of the street. My first thought is that it’s a mouse, but because of how small it is, I wonder instead whether it’s just the wind blowing rubbish into the street. But it’s not very windy. Then, I see a car approaching. Not very fast at all. Fewn (sound effect). Car comes and goes. Moment of truth. Whatever was moving has come to a halt. Rubbish? Mouse? Splattered there, the tiny mouse. What a dumb motherfucker, why are you playing in traffic?

Okay, let’s get into this week’s three frees lol.

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Abe’s Three Frees, #018: 4th May - 10th May 2026

1. A scammer pretending to be the City of London police phoned me last week:
   
   On private number. My heart was immediately racing. But — as someone who grew up the way I grew up — I inherently distrust the police. Combine that with my general weariness of any unsolicited/unexpected phone call is almost certainly a spam call, and if you’ve been reading Abe’s Three Frees from the start, you already know how I feel about those.
   
   Detective Adam Francis claimed that a Mohammed Iqbal had been detained at Stansted with a fake ID in my name with my picture, attempting to flee the UK. Provided a case reference number that would take 24 hours to go live, and that suspects are known to buy/sell people’s data. He asked if I am familiar with/use telegram and/or signal (familiar - yes, use - barely and no) and something about 1-24 hardware, 1-12 seed means anything to me (it didn’t). I answered all questions very sceptically and he was aware that I was making notes… Which probably epxlains why he abruptly ended the call. Anyway, I did some Googling after and found this reddit thread that confirmed my suspicions. The tl;dr of the scam itself seems to be them hoping they’ll luck out on managing to gain access to and drain the victim’s crypto wallet.
   
   Try someone else, suckers!

2. Read an article that I imagine most working screenwriters can, frustratingly, relate to:
   
   Love when I read/watch something that perfectly articulates an experience of mine. Big up manager/producer George Heller and the Hollywood Reporter for this fine piece: Deal Lethargy Forces Hollywood Writers to Leave Money on the Table. That needs to Change.
   
   And it’s not just a Hollywood thing, it’s happening on the British shores too. One of the biggest banes of my career to date was a deal that was on the table for 54 weeks — the production company pulled out twice during this period, only to then return and double the initial offer — and then fell apart seemingly out of nowhere. It’s a miracle that that was not my villain origin story, in light of the widespread impact it immediately had in my life. In fact, I wrote about this in my essay April 29th Reflections, published in the anthology Bread Alone: What happens when we run out of working class writers?
   
   I especially connected with this excerpt on the creative toll of deals dragging out for yonks and, essentially, the expectation of writers to be robots (rather than the artists we actually are):
   

   

   The industry can and absolutely does need to do better. It’s better for everyone.
   

3. Even though Netflix ruined the finale for me, I will still recommend this show:
   
   Funny AF on Netflix is excellent. I was, however, tremendously disgruntled by whoever at Netflix had the bright idea of doing a live semi-final and final on a Monday and Tuesday (2am Tuesday and Wednesday here in London) so that a global audience could vote. Whilst I accept there is no perfect time for a globally live audience (well, yes there is, it’s whatever time the World Cup final airs lol), I think choosing to air on a weekday at a time that would be stupid o’clock in another big, English-speaking territory was very inconsiderate. And my frustrations at this were validated when, on Wednesday morning whilst walking to the gym, the very first thing I see on Netflix is the announcement of the winner. Are you taking the piss?!
   
   Anyway, despite that… I still recommend this show. Kevin Hart goes around America searching for the next stand-up comedy superstar. The prize? A Netflix special. Bonkers prize. The bar was high and you’ll laugh loads. Shout out the winner. I just wish I hadn’t known it was them before watching the final, y’know?

That’s it for another Abe’s Three Frees. If you found my AirPods case and decided to keep them for yourself rather than hand them into the gym, you’re nastay. Or a nitty.

Shalom.

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Think of the ‘free’ as ‘free game’ (read: because he thought it had a nice ring to it).

Greetings my people, it’s a new month, how we all feeling about it? Last week felt like my first normal week in a while and I’m sitting with the gratitude of that after a tremendously tumultuous two months. More of this, please? Better yet, more of this and better, please and thank you!

For those of us in the UK, we’ve just come off of a bank holiday weekend and mine was both restless and restful. Restful was intentional and was where the restlessness was born; not me being the engineer of my own problems! Going into April I knew how overwhelming it was going to be and got ahead of it by not over-planning for the pockets of time where there was nothing. At first it felt like a waste of time until it, quickly, felt like exactly what it was intended to be; nourishing for the soul.

Roaring and ready to continue with the new month and so, on that note, shall we tuck into the first Three Frees of May?

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Abe’s Three Frees, #017: 27th April - 3rd May 2026

1. I was today year’s old when I learnt that 86 is a slang term that encourages violence:
   
   Donald Trump, however, already knew. So the term means get rid of and the former FBI Director James Comey found himself in a bit of bother after posting the below image on Instagram:

   

   I’m not here to discuss whether James Comey knew what this meant or not when he allegedly stumbled upon it on a beach and took a photo of it claiming to be none the wiser, but what it did remind me of was being 12 year-old Abe getting in trouble in English for telling John to bugger off. My English teacher immediately flew into a Yorkshire rage at me and that was how I learnt — via a one hour detention — that bugger was an old-fashioned homophobic slur. 99% of people I’ve shared this anecdote with over the years have learnt this for the first time when I told them and — for the 1% who were familiar with the slur — had zero expectations for a twelve year old to know it.
   
   Alas, Ms. [redacted] was know for having her favourites (and non-favourites) — highlighted further by her being the only teacher who never awarded me an A in English between year 7-13 — and I think I was engraved in her non-favourite book from year 7, where I made the mistake of thinking she was a supply teacher that I could take the piss with in my I.T. lesson (as opposed to the reality; she was a permanent teacher in the school that was easing her way back into the school by covering lessons, having spent most of the academic year off of work due to a battle with cancer).
   

2. I discovered an album and (sort of) new artist I love:
   
   Spotify’s Discover Weekly is the gift that keeps giving, generally, and this week was no different but this time it led me to a hip hop album which is a rare discovery for me these days:

   

   For all the benefits of the life and time of algorithms which we now live in, one thing I’ve missed is how I’d come across and/or seek out new music, particularly Hip-Hop. I’ve read observations about this over the years, about how as you get older, you discover less art because you’re less active in doing so and I think Hip Hop is probably the genre where this is felt most; it’s a young man’s sport/art form. I think also the death of the mixtape era we grew up on (and I’m referring specifically to the aspect of rapper’s doing covers of already familiar rap beats) largely plays a part too. When listening to Reason’s Moving Towards Love_PINK (who I learned, after, I’d heard on Kendrick Lamar’s Black Panther album soundtrack thing a few years back), it made me think back to backpack rapper XV who I’d discovered somehow (probably on Tumblr, RIP to a real one man) a number of years back. I checked Spotify and saw it does indeed have his 2011 mixtape Zero Heroes which I loved all those years back, but is missing a few tracks including the song I loved most on it — Famous — which sampled Jasmine Sullivan’s Famous, which further emphasises my point.
   

3. One of the most original pieces of screenwriting advice I’ve seen in a while:

   

   Whilst you can’t apply this tip to the BBC channels, you can apply it to the rest of linear TV. Television is a business. If we’re being totally crass, the purpose of a television show is to bring in an audience that the broadcaster can sell to on behalf of advertisers who buy up the ad space. In an age where everyone is watching on streamers and trying to avoid adverts… If you watch TV on linear TV, you will learn who is watching those shows by what is being advertised to you.
   
   Even with the linear TV streamers (ITV, Channel 4, 5), there’s every possibility that the ads on their apps are tailored to you, too. But, even if they’re not, the demographic streamers expect and advertises see watching on streaming differs to what’s on linear. But if you study both but, I think, particularly linear — it will give you an insight into who the audience you should be considering if you have aspirations to write and make TV that transmits in that TV slot.
   
   The tip comes from producer Farah Abushwesha, founder of BAFTA Rocliffe, which has discovered and showcased hundreds of new screenwriters over two decades and continues to nurture the next generation of creators, offering practical opportunities, industry introductions, and access to global networks. If you’re a screenwriter, I think you’ll agree with me that their new Substack — which is where I read the tip — is one you should absolutely subscribe to. They’ve posted five pieces so far and all but one of them are 2-3 minute reads so make sure you go catch up on that free game.

If you’ve got some new hip-hop artists (that have EPs/albums; I’m really a body of work listener) you think I should be checking out, do feel free to drop ‘em in the comments. And don’t go around threatening to 86 people.

Thanks for reading as always, I hope you enjoyed. ‘til next week!

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Prior to this year, I don’t think I would have considered myself one. But I would have considered myself a published playwright. Sort of.

Back in 2018, two monologues I was commissioned to write were published in Hear Me Now: Audition Monologues for Actors of Colour. The sort of is because I’d fully consider myself a published playwright if it was the play text of a (full-length) play that had been professionally produced/staged, especially as I still harbour ambitions of one day experiencing the joy of achieving that. Those were not that.

There is, quite obviously, a theme here pertaining to my relentless ambition and it might appear that I am one of those people who is never quite satisfied. All I can say to that is I assure you that I am someone who more often than not takes a moment to appreciate their wins (well, the ones that feel like them to me! Not doing myself any favours here…), rather than dismissing them due to always being focused on the next, bigger, yet-to-be-achieved milestone.

When I think of being able to refer to myself as a published author, I imagine myself holding up a hardback novel which says my name on the front of it (for those curious, this is an ambition I only care to achieve once; I have one single novel idea that I want to write one day and — aside from a memoir, perhaps — would much rather spend my writing days dedicated to the medium of screen).

In doubt, I sought counsel from the, agenda-less insentient source otherwise known as a dictionary and these were my findings:

For all intents, purposes and to save me from having to fight myself out of yet another self-enforced paper bag, we are going to agree without debate that ‘article’ and ‘essay’ is same same, okay.

So it’s settled. I’m a published author. The book in question that made me become a published author, you ask? None other than:

I want to be honest with you. For years, I’ve wanted something like this to happen. There was an era where it felt like I frequently saw essay anthologies being announced and published. I would see the title/theme and the list of writers — some of whom I knew or was in close proximity to — who had been included and privately wonder, why didn’t anybody think about me for this? There are a number of possible answers I came to over the years but I will share the ones which were in my own control: I am primarily known as a screenwriter and — up until this year — I have not kept a regular online writing presence outside of that. So it’s perfectly understandable why I might not be front of mind for such opportunities.

So, what changed? I figured it might be interesting to answer that question and share the journey of how an opportunity I’d wanted for so long was finally something I was able to achieve, especially given the title of the essay and that I am writing this on April 29th (though, it will be published a day later).

I think it might be an encouraging one, whether it be for someone on a similar path to mine or — actually — anyone who needs a bit of encouragement to go and get what they want in any area of their life.

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Encouragement

More than once, my friend Ifey has shared that she feels it’s a shame that I don’t do more writing — outside of screenwriting/dramatic writing — because it would make people realise how good of a writer I truly am, something that people don’t necessarily appreciate as much owing to the fact that the primary mediums I write within are visual.

Similarly, I occasionally receive sentiments similar to the below as a response to a wordy story on Instagram:

Whilst I can’t say it was intentional, these passing remarks were encouraging to me and I’d increasingly found in recent years that I — too — miss writing outside of screen and, actually, my job (because that’s what this is, after all!). To varying degrees of commitment and consistency, I’ve kept a blog for over fifteen years. As we reach the end of April I would say this is the most consistent I have ever been; I’ve published at least six pieces a month. Prior to that, however, most of my years since I began my writing journey have been preoccupied with getting to the point where it would be a means to an end, a contribution to the goal of becoming a working (thus, paid) writer. I couldn’t see how writing blogs and the likes would contribute to that. Also at play was a complicated relationship with not wanting to talk for talking’s sake on the internet, and reserving that energy and the things I need to say for characters, stories. As a chronically online person, I’ve observed over the years what the former looks like and was keen to not find myself presenting in such a way.

Dramatic writing (the catch-all term I’m using to cover writing film, TV and theatre) does not and cannot happen overnight. Typically, a single long-form project — which is where my efforts are primarily these days — is years in the making and I’m fine with that. But, sometimes, there are things I want or need to say that are far more urgent and just can’t wait for a script, y’know?

Back on track and to Ifey, it seemed she might finally get her wish after tagging me in an essay call out on LinkedIn that felt so timely and resonant to where I was at the time:

At the time, I was in the throes of redrafting a feature film (deadline April 25; ten days after the above callout’s deadline) I had in development with Film 4 and Greenacre Films, a redraft that I needed to smash out the park (happy to report that I did 💪🏾) in light of the first two drafts I’d submitted having very much not been to the standard I hold myself to. In retrospect, the presence of a mental health/wellbeing derailment was the reason for both, but that’s a story for another day…

In any case, the encouragement was in full swing, if only I could find the time to do something with.

Encouragement: the stranger edition

After seeing the LinkedIn call out, I barely thought about it. I was fully engulfed in the redraft. Until, one day, five days before the essay deadline that was completely out of mind for me, I unexpectedly received a DM on LinkedIn from the editor:

The good news: I welcomed the reminder as I still was interested in submitting.
The bad news: having reread the brief, I realised:

1. To apply you had to submit the actual essay, not a pitch.
   and

2. It said at least 3000 words NOT up to like I thought I’d read.

Meanwhile, I hadn’t even decided what I might want to write for this. I decided to be honest with Kate about all of this, expecting that to be the end of the road. To my surprise, at my mention of thinking it was only a pitch I needed to submit, Kate suggested that I could do just that with an impetus:

It just seemed like everything was aligning to ensure that I would submit something, right? So, onto that pitch…

Audacity

In reflection, I cannot confidently say I’ve ever written a pitch of this nature for an essay. But I have written many-a-pitch for TV series, feature films and plays and — over time — have come to know how to write them well enough. I do, however, often find them to be a bit of a laborious task. Particularly when, like this, I at best have the essence of what I think I want to write/say rather than crystal clear clarity of exactly what I want to write/say.

These days, a majority of the production companies I work with, I have long-standing relationships with. If it’s not that, my modest reputation and track record precedes me in a way that generally leads to a similar scenario to the following: at an early stage of an idea where I have barely a morsel, rather than the picture perfect pitch, they instead welcome me to send a vomit document/stream of consciousness (come to think about it, having long-accepted that it’s quite likely I have undiagnosed ADHD, I can see in hindsight why this approach works really well for me). After that, the production company and I will have a chat about it with the intention of figuring out what the thing actually is and, if they like it, they’ll typically commission/pay me to get to work on something (the pitch, a longer document like a treatment or — the holy grail both financially and creatively — the script itself), or for me to go away and quickly write a pitch that can be shared around the team, for them to then consider commissioning.

Audacity, time limitations and my severely limited experience of writing this kind of pitch made a mountain of this mole hill that required very little active encouragement from myself. And so, rather than send at least what I thought would resemble a legible pitch, without permission I instead submitted a seven page vomit document that I hoped Kate — who barely knew me, and vice versa — would be able to make sense of. It consisted of an intro/context (pictured below) and fourteen pitches varying in length.

For context, of those fourteen pitches, four of them were titles and nothing else because I clearly had decided Kate was a magician who had the ability to put the star in stardust. Another went one step further and included a single sentence as the pitch. There were a couple others which were screenshots of essays (the colloquial kind) from group chats that I felt could make for an interesting essay. In reflection, perhaps most interesting is that the essay that piqued Kate’s attention the most was the very first one I pitched and also the longest (standing at almost two pages. For legal reasons — I’m not joking — I can’t actually share the contents of the pitch as there are elements that couldn’t be published either, but there’s enough in the essay 😉).

And so there we have it. After almost not submitting because I didn’t have time, then being given a get-out-of-jail-free-card to submit just a pitch that was, then, not even what I reckon would be deemed as a proper pitch… I’d be having an essay in this book.

How’s that for audacity?

Trust & Support

Under no circumstances could I have written this essay without the support of editor Kate Pasola, nor Ifey. In fact, it was the latter’s idea that I write the entries in reverse. I’m incapable of describing the reason as succinctly as Ifey would have, but the logic was essentially that when the reader reads it chronologically in reverse (2024, back to 2020), the picture becomes clearer as to how I found myself where I was in 2024, thus contextualising the last entry, the then present day of 2025. There’s a unique emotional journey it takes the reader on. The entries are quite literally getting more and more positive, but it means you know that in reality things have gotten worse and worse for me.

Of Kate, my editor, and all editors across all writing mediums: I cannot stress how imperative they are to the writing process and making a writer look mighty impressive. I have often described myself as a lazy writer, something which nobody who knows me actually believes is true. Whilst in many regards they are correct, the reason why I say this is because I hate the idea of writing a million drafts of anything. For why? I am so happy to share the very first, crappy draft of whatever it is I’ve written, receive the notes, start polishing the turd and subsequently get to the gold in far fewer drafts than I would have if left to my own devices. I guess it helps that I am receptive to notes, great at actioning them but, also, able to distill quite well what they mean and apply them in a way that both protects and bolsters what I’m trying to say. A significant part of that comes with experience and the deep work that an artist goes through to understand their voice, and having the courage and confidence to speak on its behalf to ensure that voice and intention is fiercely protected.

Over the course of two months, there were thirty-eight emails between Kate and I and, by the end of it, an essay that we were both tremendously proud of was born. But it started with Kate trusting that I could deliver on those vomit thoughts and me trusting her guidance in the process. And as someone who has had worked with many a script editor, I can’t tell you how detrimental it is to the process if you do not trust them. You basically feel like you’re out at sea, alone, and have to somehow figure out how to save yourself. It’s a very unenjoyable process, one that’s only been made easier (on the rare occasion I still encounter it) to navigate through the greatest teacher that cannot be replicated: experience.

Having something I needed to say

I was born into a working-class family, to parents who divorced when I was 9 years old and — from that point — was largely raised by my single-parent mother. That mother that raised me, along with the grammar school I went to, played a large part in the mindset, perspective and ambition that has made me someone who has always believed that they could do whatever they wanted to do, and that nothing could get in my way.

As I’ve said before, I’ve been writing for fifteen years and have been full-time since 2020. The journey has been a rollercoaster and there’s every argument to be made that the last six years have been the craziest of it all. For much of the last year or perhaps even longer, I’ve unknowingly been on a journey to truth.

The truth has always been the real frontier of art, and you’re standing on its edge now.
Tina Gharavi

This essay was written before I had realised that and before Tina said the above words to me in an email. The email came a few days after she’d given me a life-changing 90 minutes notes session in Athens, where I was a participant on The Owl Screenwriting Workshop further developing the Chasing the Night feature and email followed me having informed her of a life-changing incident that had occurred in the interim.

This essay, with all its honesty, vulnerability and more, exists because I’m not hiding anymore. I’m being honest, in all of my writing. And I’m saying what I need to say. Here’s the opening to the essay:

It would mean the world to me if you’d purchase Bread Alone: What happens when we run out of working-class writers? and read the essay in its entirety. I’ve linked it to Amazon because I appreciate we live in a world that values convenience, but it’d be even better (for the writers and for the book industry) if you bought it from a bookshop like Waterstones, or — even better — your local independent bookshop. Can’t afford it? Grab it from your local library (remember those old things? Let’s keep them alive!). If they don’t have it in stock, you can request that they order it in; they will and my understanding is that writers get royalties from books being borrowed from libraries, at no cost to the borrower.

Wherever and however get your hands on the book, you’ll appreciate my next fortnightly piece even more as I’ve decided to make an annual tradition of writing a new April 29th entry. The next entry for 2026 will be published right here, on my Substack.

Happy April 29th (+1, seeing as I’ll be publishing this the day after writing it, the 30th).

Yours sincerely,

A published author.

And if you would like to support my writing a little more, please consider a one-off donation/buying me a green tea (I don’t drink coffee) using the simple Ko-fi link below:

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