I wrote a play every day for the entire month of February, 2017.
28, complete, short-plays.
Some were very personal, some where very bad, some were rushed, some had plenty of time to wander round my brain, some were written on a train, some from my bed, some from the house I where I was dog-sitting. Some sparked something in me that I’d love to explore further. Some will stay just as they are, odd little things, but evidence of a month of sustained creativity.
I surprised myself in many ways. I was pleasantly surprised at how disciplined I could be, and how I always found time, even if it was the middle of the night, or first thing in the morning(!), to create something.
I was also surprised at how important it is to me to be writing about women’s issues and mental health. The little-feminist-that-could kept creeping up in almost every play I wrote, and she was welcome there. Mental health, on the other hand, is something I would never have expected to want to write openly, and publicly, about. It’s something I’ve only just talked to my parents about, after 18 years of not knowing how. And that was just one explosive evening with very little follow up. So why did my writing keep circling back to mental health? Because it matters. Because I care. Because I need to talk about it. And because I want to contribute to the conversation, somehow.
So, maybe that somehow is theatre. Maybe some of these little plays will grow into something more substantial. Maybe there’s more to come.
Thanks for following, and watch this space 😉