Stacy (NHB Modern Plays)

That play was directed by Mike Bradwell, who said there were three answers to every question I can be asked as a playwright: ‘yes’, ‘no’ and ‘moo’.

He taught us all a huge amount, but there was one thing he said in particular which I’ve puzzled over ever since – that every writer has a myth. A story that they return to again and again – something which drives them – something which gives their plays a sense of themselves. That it’s not a writer’s job to identify his or her myth but that it’s there – in the background – if you look for it. Simon, when I asked him, said, after quite a lot of thinking, he thought his own myth was probably ‘listen to children’ – though he said he wasn’t sure and other people might be better judges, and when I’ve mentioned it to him since he had no recollection of thinking that. But watching his work through the prism of ‘listen to children’ I’ve found quite a beautiful experience. I don’t know what my myth is, and I’d struggle to nail it down, but I think it has something to do with help – what help is, and the struggle we all go through trying to help others, and perhaps what failure to help looks and feels like.

Anyway, this is my Plays: One but I’d written about twenty-two plays before the first play in this volume. I occasionally get them out and have a read – thinking maybe there’s a thought or an idea or even a turn of phrase that I could use for something new. There’s not. They’re dire. Even now I’m not quite sure why I persevered. Everyone told me to do something else – the criticism was wide-ranging, but mostly very critical. My endurance was partly due to love and partly due to utter dependence.

I think I started writing plays as a way of expressing the things that I couldn’t say. I’m a constant idiot in conversation – I always seem to sound either smug or stupid