For theatre makers,The Writer is heavily coded and ignites many furious questions about the ways in which theatre works, what our relationships and obligations are, and how we are ourselves or not ourselves within this world.

In The Writer, The Actress is able to be free in performance, but in dialogue with older, more experienced makers she is unable to operate as an independent thinker. We as performers, and especially performers coded as women, are trained and moulded to please older people, especially older men, with our malleability – expected to give all of ourselves to every moment of every process.

The expectation to bring your whole self to work has permeated from the threat-based economy of the arts and into the wealthy industries. I don’t want to bring my whole self anywhere except into my own garden.

If I am an artist, does that mean I am wholly invested in the project of changing the world?

Theatre can’t change the world, and it’s absurd to think we have some kind of obligation to achieve this task.

I hate being an actress, it’s demeaning and competitive and unsatisfying.

I love being an actor, it’s energetic and connective and joyous.

One of the constructs that is interrogated in The Writer is the act of an artist attempting to show just how fucked her paradigm is while working within that paradigm.

How can I change the material conditions of my art and industry if I still have to work within the confines of the patriarchal, competitive, ruthless and low-trust establishment? Why do I have to make art that a man will endorse, or a theatre council will accept, or an audience will be tempted to spend their money on?

We as theatre makers create under the constant shadow of male-defined, commercially viable naturalism, as THE definition of good theatre.

I hate making theatre, it’s hard, there’s no money, if no one comes to see it then it’s a failure.

I love making theatre, it’s the visceral expression of myself as an artist, and nothing beats the adrenaline rush or the satisfaction of a show well done.

After 20 years and over 45 productions – and, yes, I do keep count because how else am I meant to prove my pedigree when I’m a slightly fat actress who doesn’t do film and television – I’ve put myself on sabbatical. I drink significantly less alcohol, and I know significantly less mean-spirited gossip.

Theatre perpetuates the sexualisation and stereotyping of women. The Writer at the heart of The Writer can’t get out from under the oppressive force of patriarchy, in her own home, in the rehearsal room, on the page, on the stage, or even in her imagination.

The Writer, a play that is so alive with fury, ignites in me the desire to scream from the rooftops about how cruel live arts can be, and how unlike anything else they are when it comes to feeling alive.

Silo Theatre'sThe Writer

2 – 18 September

Q Theatre

This piece is presented as part of a partnership with Silo Theatre. They cover the costs of paying our writers while we retain all editorial control.