Wild Dogs image by Paula Manziack
Very recently an anaesthetist was holding my hand, administering the good stuff just before my cataract operation. His casual questions led me to explain that I was a playwright and had just written and produced a play called Wild Dogs at The West Gippsland Arts Centre. To which he replied, ‘Oh yes, a friend of our does amateur theatre, and we’ve popped along to see a few things. It’s nice to have a hobby.’
A hobby? Decades of endurance, hanging in there, learning from others, observing, taking risks, pushing myself? Decades of exhausting and repetitive locking of horns with my family over the value of what I do? Torturous handing over of my new babies to directors and cast? Unnnatural and distasteful self-promotion? Collaboration with, sweating with, opening oneself up to, gambling…and investing in shaping meaningful stories, creating and crafting new theatre works.
A hobby? I have been writing seriously for 15 years or more. I have studied writing at tertiary level, taught writing at tertiary level, created a touring puppetry company which operated for about six years; I have been involved in about half a dozen highly specialised artists in schools projects, I have had my work read overseas; I have had work selected for production in Melbourne and the regions, and have also produced a myriad of works for theatre over the years… I have set up a writers network and held key positions for about seven years, broadcast a radio show for writers for about six years, been key organizer of a stupendous annual poetry night for about 10 years. I am currently the longest serving volunteer on the local Shire Arts and Cultural Advisory Committee. I am an arts worker; primarily a communicator of ideas and stories and imagery- and I choose to live in a regional area.
For most of those years I have been saying things like: I work in adult education, and, I do a bit of writing; or my background is in education, or I work in the community, or I am a freelance writer. Because seriously! A playwright? It’s right out there isn’t it? Kind of like extreme writer.
And regional playwright is even further out there- the Antarctic of extreme. For me the suggestion that what I do is just a hobby was was underpinned by an additional little barb, the belief that if you were really any good you’d be in the city. City critics, those who fund theatre, and representatives of the large theatre companies (those with the clout to give a play wider recognition) rarely have a genuine interest in what is being developed in the region – they are too busy trying to market their works and programs into our art centres and theatres.
In the course of a career that definitely isn’t a hobby I have had to deal with stolen money, directors who change plays so they no longer make sense, being refused entry to rehearsal, copyright battles, a director who ended up in hospital, actors stranded by Black Saturday fires.
But I have also worked with the most amazing, generous people, learned about funding, governance and sustaining a team, made lifelong friends and gone through great personal growth.
When people ask what we do, or try to gauge our success, they usually want to know, ‘How do you make your money and how much do you make?’ They mostly want to put us into a box, place us on their hierarchy of what counts most.
Being a playwright means seldom earning any money- sometimes coming out way behind financially for a variety of reasons- so I fail the monetary measure of success. Not good at earning money by writing plays.
But there are other yardsticks that I use to measure success:
- Knowing that I have created something from nothing, something entirely new, original. My words coming out of actors’ mouths; my vision coming to life; the audience responding to my ideas and sense of humour.
- People coming back for more. Both Off The Leash Theatre creative teams and our audiences are coming back. We are getting a name in the area for doing good work. Success is creating and keeping that team.
- Attracting others with skills we need.We now have more people auditioning than we can cast. That is the direct result of producing really great theatre consistently for over three years now.
- Our local arts centre has begun buying in local work and is even co-producer of local works.
- Opportunities opening up for partnerships, connections or stories
- Feedback from audience comments, sometimes years later
- Awards including 12 nominations for Wild Dogs and the Australia Day medallion I received for services to The Arts
It’s probably not wise to tell the guy who holds your life in his hands, that he is a patronising old fart, or to suggest his need to feel superior might relate to insecurity in other areas. So to the anesthetist who thought I had a hobby, I replied calmly, ‘Oh, it’s not a hobby. It’s what I do; it’s who I am.’
Not feeling defensive, not feeling inadequate or even downright stupid in calling myself a playwright is another level of success.
Being able to say ‘I am a playwright. It’s what I do; it’s who I am’ means I finally feel comfortable in my own skin. I have earned the title playwright. That for me is the greatest success.
This article is an edited extract of a speech at a Regional Cultural Forum run by the Regional Cultural Network.
