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Over a few short weeks in March I went from planning the next moves for my new play to questioning whether the theatre world as we know it will even continue to exist. This quantum shift has of course affected all those working in the creative industries, making the creative act itself hard to sustain.

UK theatre – while leading the world in the quality of output – is uniquely vulnerable to this public health crisis, and there is simply no way for our industry to survive without major, sustained government support – at all levels of our theatrical ecosystem.

Venues I’ve worked with such as the Arcola and Theatre503 are now facing the catastrophic impact of prolonged closure. These theatres are vital to the development of new work and talent, and they survive on shoestring budgets. Without a functioning network of local, fringe and small-scale venues, the entire ecosystem will wither away.

Sadly it all comes down to money. We don’t need platitudes, roadmaps or good intentions. We need investment. Theatres can’t sit tight and wait for the storm to blow over. They need help now.

Ours is an industry fuelled by passion, but we still have to keep roofs over our heads. While those at the visible pinnacle of our industry may be in some cases richly rewarded, the normal condition for those working in our industry is a variable and insufficient income, which simply cannot withstand long-term interruption.

Some writers have been inspired by lockdown to develop engaging, form-bending new work. I’m not one of them. At a time when an imaginative release would be most welcome, the mundane anxieties of survival get in the way. Still, a crisis like this helps to provide much-needed perspective, and better days will return in time.

For now I’m trying to work on some shorter writing projects, and plan for those better days. In the meantime, check out my blink-and-you’ll-miss-it contribution to the Royal Court’s fabulous Court At Home project, inspired by my favourite Royal Court play of recent years, Lucy Kirkwood’s The Children.

Books

Human Acts, Han Kang. Elegantly translated by Deborah Smith, this is an achingly poignant account of South Korea’s Gwangju Massacre. Told from mixed historic viewpoints, the novel threads the hopeless search for one lost soul among many. 

Multiple Choice, Alejandro Zambra. Chilean fiction recast as a comprehension exam. Witty, revealing, curious, moving and utterly unique. 

Young Eliot, Robert Crawford. A masterful account of TS Eliot’s life and poetic development up to the publication of The Waste Land, impeccably detailed while immensely readable. Undoubtedly now the definitive Eliot biography, shedding myriad insights on the work. 

Albums

Blackstar, David Bowie. 2016 was both the best of years for bringing us Blackstar, and the worst of years for taking away its creator. A work of incalculable depths realised through unimaginable courage and control. In his final year Bowie built a bridge to the life beyond.

A Moon Shaped Pool, Radiohead. Pop music of intense delicacy. Radiohead made a timely reappearance with an apt soundtrack to a disturbing year. 

Night Thoughts, Suede. Retaining the swagger of Coming Up, Suede deliver deliciously fat guitar figures and chorus lines to restore your faith in humanity.

Theatre

The Children, Lucy Kirkwood. A densely packed marvel. I’m still musing over this important play about generational responsibilities and the legacies we pass on to our children and our future selves. For sheer dramatic heft I think it’s even better than Kirkwood’s multi-award-winning Chimerica. 

Unreachable, Anthony Neilson. The biggest belly laughs I’ve had in the theatre for a long time, born from a provoking plot about the quest for perfection in artistic creation. 

Lazarus, Enda Walsh and David Bowie. What does it all mean? What does it matter? The songs comprise the set list of the farewell tour Bowie knew he couldn’t make, while the scenes tease out and twist the perennial themes of his career.