Words that come to life

For most of us who engage in writing, it is a solitary process and, except for a fortunate few, the words we generate are read by a limited audience. But I don’t suppose I need to say much more on the difficulties of finding an outlet for one’s words than that.

That said, I have had the good fortune to have some of my work shared with a larger audience without having had to go through the trials of finding an agent, who may or may not then find a publisher – need I say more?

The other aspect of what I am about to divulge is that the words I wrote in this context were only read by very few people. What I am talking about is play writing. Now, please don’t imagine I am a Ben Elton or a Willy Russell. My work would probably fit better into a Morecambe and Wise sketch. But that is not the point.

I am a member of our village Amateur Dramatic Group, and we are extremely blessed to have as members both the schools’ county drama teacher and a professional drama producer who directs plays and musicals throughout the county and beyond. They are both very supportive and generous with their time.

Only last week the annual Shetland Drama Festival took place. It serves to showcase local amdram. The event hosts a professional adjudicator, and numerous trophies are awarded, including those for plays penned by local writers in both English and in the local dialect.

Over the years, I have been fortunate enough to have received the trophy for what the adjudicator considered the best play in English by a local writer. This year, I wrote and produced my first ever play in the Shetland dialect section. Most years there are at least three or four entries in this category, but this year mine was the only entry.

Whilst the cast and I were awarded several prizes including that for the best original dialect script, the best individual dialect performance and the best dialect play overall, it still felt like a hollow victory. The adjudicator, who has been present at several Shetland Drama Festivals over the years, commented that even if there had been more plays in this section, ours would probably have won.

The Shetland Drama Festival has been running for over seventy years and some of the trophies are showing signs of aging. For that reason, this year’s recipients were photographed holding the cups and shields before they were returned for engraving. They will then be on display at a local public venue.

As a permanent memento, miniature plastic Oscars were awarded. Now it is just a case of looking for ideas for next year’s festival!

In the years I have been writing scripts, I have created a character who, by popular demand, has now appeared in about five or six of my plays. She is a feisty old lady who has assaulted a gangster, run a school cleaning outfit and even been out in space. Those scripts were entered as comedies.

Two years ago, I wrote a play that had been inspired by a visit to Auschwitz. It was called Benjimin’s Birthday, and the eponymous character was in a care home where his ninetieth birthday was taking place. Surrounded by care home staff and family, it was revealed that instead of being a prisoner at a death camp, Benjimin had been a guard and had tattooed a number on his wrist to avoid imprisonment or worse. This play was interpreted differently by the adjudicator than by the director and whilst it won the trophy for best original script, it resulted in a heated argument between adjudicator and director.

There is something very heartening about seeing one’s words taking on another dimension and come to life. Usually, I ask someone else to direct my plays. By doing this, I have frequently seen an interpretation placed on the script that I had not considered when I wrote it.

The ultimate accolade is to hear the audience cheering as the curtain closes. That supersedes any silverware.