A Case for New Writing in Cambridge Theatre

The University of Cambridge is very fortunate to have such a thriving theatre culture, with a great number of venues, student societies, and enthusiastic people involved. Every week, beloved shows grace the stage of the ADC theatre, but within some of the smaller venues new writing enters the scene and reveals a large playground of fresh ideas, self-expression, and experimentation. Though these smaller productions may not draw crowds comparable to established giants, they are, in my experience, capable of being a form of entertainment that is more memorable and more relevant to us today.

In this article, I hope to demystify what the process of putting on new writing entails, perhaps so that it may make it less daunting for someone who might like to give it a go.

In comparison to other theatrical roles, writers can often feel less involved in the process, as much of their work is complete before any rehearsal takes place. This can feel more isolating in a distinctly collaborative medium so, in order to combat this, I have sat down with a few Cambridge writers, to build some semblance of a consensus on what can often be quite a solo craft.

The first step, and arguably the most universal, is the drafting of an initial idea. Whether this be in a nicely organised notebook, or a long list of notes on a phone, a concept is penned. Among several writers interviewed, 2am appears to be the most common time for inspiration, and it is often accompanied by a drink, such as a coffee, or scotch on the rocks. How detailed this initial idea is varies entirely from person to person, project to project; at times it can appear as an entire storyboard, and others it is simply a genre with a twist, or a mere aesthetic.

Regardless, the next stage is to begin building upon said idea, which is where the process diverges greatly for every writer. An important thing to consider is drawing upon your previous experience with writing more broadly as a craft. Martha Alexander noted that her experience with poetry-writing has helped her when writing for theatre, as she focuses on its orality, rhythm, and how the words are spoken. Comparatively, Sam Asher Misan originally had the story for his play ‘Bathwater’ written as a novel, which he then adapted and altered into the medium of theatre. He noted how socialising and speaking to other people about the project, whether directly or indirectly, helped him develop his writing greatly, as theatre is a medium primarily centred around dialogue and communication.

After an extended period of time working away at this one project, including many breaks as you try to balance writing with your day-to-day life, you may find yourself with a full draft. While this is something to celebrate, the work is unfortunately not over. Amenie Groves describes writing as building up a skeleton, which other creative minds then add the flesh and blood to. Although there is a temptation to hand off the draft the moment it is complete (unless you are also directing or performing your project) you would then end the bulk of your creative involvement before your work is in a position you might want. Fortunately, Cambridge offers a number of ways to make editing easier and more enjoyable, largely by making it a social project.

Thomas Gladstone described how for his project ‘The Merman’, he recruited a team of script editors, with whom he was able to facilitate discussion about his show and run a read-through before cementing a cast. Though he admitted it was an odd experience to hand over work that felt incomplete to others, he had no regrets and felt that passing it through a fresh set of eyes greatly helped his creative vision be realised.

Sam Asher Misan took advantage of the many ‘scratch’ nights offered by different Cambridge Theatre Societies, where short plays and extracts from larger projects are performed in a low stake showcase environment. By putting scenes of ‘Bathwater’ into a number of these showcases, he was able to better determine what parts of his writing worked, and what needed to change. He also noted how these nights helped him build up an immune system to critique, allowing him to make the most out of any criticism or feedback given.

It is undeniable that it is very scary to have your writing performed, Martha Alexander commented on how it feels as though there is more at stake when it is your own words being spoken. However, do not let this put you off having your work performed, or performing it yourself, as in the case of Martha’s comedy show ‘Haddock’. Amenie Groves rightly acknowledged, “a script never feels finished, it just feels good enough to put it on stage”.

Now that you have a script you are willing to put on, you must decide if you will direct the project yourself or take on someone else. Both approaches have their merits. If you have a really clear image of how you want your play to look, then it might be worth directing the project yourself. However, handing the creative reins over to someone else can allow the discovery of elements of your project that you never imagined were there.

In my experience, I imagined my show ‘Beneath the Flower’ to be a straight tragedy. Through the lens of director Louisa Hailey, the play became far more comedic – which made the show more enjoyable to watch and ensured that the deeper, more tragic moments hit even harder. In a similar vein, Amenie Groves described how her writing is often centred around something deeply personal to her, and that a different director can help generalise the core theme, making it more applicable to a wider audience. Sam Asher Misan said that working with Eva Cotton pushed him to engage more directly with technical and staging considerations. He noted that her decision to cut the initial onstage appearance of the bath strengthened the impact of the titular set-piece when it eventually appeared, adding to its thematic weight.

While devoting so much time to writing a script for theatre likely means you have some idea and investment over how the performance should look, I have provided those last few examples to try and encourage people to give the role of director or co-director to somebody else because I believe this can be really worthwhile. Theatre is a distinctively collaborative medium, so by allowing other creative minds to alter and interpret your work, to become personally invested in it, you may find your project develops in a better way than you ever could have imagined.

In a city with as big an amateur dramatic scene as Cambridge, it is so important to get involved while you can. Even if writing is not something that particularly interests you, I urge you to at least engage with new writing. As put by Thomas Gladstone, new writing often entails follow-up questions, and the show can feel more like a dialogue than an established show. They are works produced within the context of now, thereby commenting on what life is like now, or what it should be like. They seek to say new things, and to say them in new and experimental ways. There is so much to gain by participating in them.

Edited by Polly Bigham