Tonight (March 28th 2026) I will see one of my stories performed on stage for the first time.
The ‘Logues (Pronounced logs) is an opportunity offered by the Canberra Rep theatre company, for amateur playwrights to enter their work, to compete against other playwrights, from which, the best ten are staged and performed for three audiences.
Pretty cool. A brilliant way to encourage people to take a chance at creating short form plays (Monologues to Triologues), to learn from directors and actors on what works… and to receive direct anonymous feedback for the piece.
I would describe it as scary, vulnerable and incredibly helpful for the community.
I’ve never written a play. Before I started Contingency and The Arrangement, I’d never really written a story since school.
At first I called myself a writer, then after having to end my previous career, I began calling myself an author on my website and business email… self-awarded and entirely aspirational. I chose to, as an important step; I want to treat this work seriously and see what I can achieve.
The financial returns on writing, might seem a waste of time in some peoples eyes; I can only define what success means to me.
I think everyone starts with an idea they think is incredible, they probably imagine vast sales, book tours, movie rights even if they never say it out loud. At some point, reality crashes in.
Very few people are making any sort of money by writing, and it takes a LOT of work to produce something that even exists. So, is it worth it? Is a question worth asking.
Personally, I needed a creative outlet, a way to help with my therapeutic journey, a faint hope to make the world a slightly better place. I needed the chance to read stories that were important to me, that I wanted to read, and to get them out of my imagination, where they would sit and paw at my mind.
I wrote my first story; The Arrangement, then asked friends and colleagues to take a look; They mostly said they enjoyed it. I received some feedback, made some improvements and refined the story to a place where I was happy with it (until the next small edits.)
It was a little thrill, to have a story which people had read; Letting it scratch parts of their own imagination, was both strange and enticing.
Then I wrote a novel (Contingency). Unfortunately set in the US, before it went to shit. It is waiting for normality to return, unedited, but it exists. That I was able to write a complete story, was still an achievement for me… but then I stopped. Work and life got in the way and my story telling was tucked away. They occupied space on my computer and drives, I could say I wrote a book, and people told me I should be proud of that, and I think I am, but they were only a tangible presence, to me.
Then came therapy, a need to express myself once again… New stories, only this time I made a website too. Somewhere to share my thoughts and dreams.
Another gift awarded to myself. Publishing, without someone saying it was good enough.
With somewhere to post and improve, I started adding journal posts to this site, little ideas to ponder.
I created with Lego, and Fimo and Photoshop/Gimp/Paint to make images to brighten up the pages. I brought pencils to try and learn to draw, which I might never do and that’s okay. I’m looking for artists to create works. I’ve got ideas for audio, another website… more stories, editing and maybe “real” publishing to down the road. That’s the only official measure of success… right?
I’ve had some generous and supportive friends and family, help me along the way. A few made small donations, I have no expectations, so the gesture was enough to give me much needed encouragement. Some have offered kind words, others have provided suggestions. Critique is more valuable than anything. Knowing someone took the time to read my words, and wants to make them better, is an incredible gift.
I used my writing to process emotions, said goodbye to my past, got lost in inspiration and information. Reading about subjects to form ideas, encouraged more reading.
I’ve met wonderfully intelligent, creative, supportive people in the writing community. All with their own passions and strengths. I’ve read their work, and offered to help if I can. Historians, poets, playwrights, novelists and everything else, all on different parts of their own journey’s. Teaching and learning.
Through the ‘logues I was able to learn about writing for the stage. Stage directions, formatting, keeping things clear, what stories appeal to the group, what is too much. How the actors approach the scripts, the director, other writers.
I was pleasantly surprised to be asked by another writer to co-write a new script, a first for us both. Learning be comfortable in sharing a story, letting it grow organically as an amalgam of our strengths. Not being precious about my line, and appreciating when hers is best.
Such an important lesson.
I have no expectation for the finals. There are ten wonderful plays, and I suspect I know which one will win after hearing them all read aloud. My goal was to make it on to the stage, so I am content. Good luck to all!
None of the above has made me rich or renowned, but each is an achievement which enhanced my life.
The people I’ve been lucky enough to meet and learn from, those relationships. The pieces I’ve been able to share, with whoever read them… maybe only you today, but there is always tomorrow.
Success, is having that chance to share.
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