This weekend I’m staying in to write. Oh, I hear you say, bless young Drew; he’s so committed to his art! Well if the truth be told it’s Hobson’s Choice as I’m enormously broke. I mentioned to Will yesterday that I wanted to become a “kept man”. He offered to lend me some money so I don’t think he really understands the concept. *sighs*

Re-read some of the play last night. It’s a two-hander about a young middle-aged couple. Their three children have all left home. On the night the play is set they accidentally find their son’s stash of dope, get stoned and re-discover each other. It’s provisionally titled Mum & Dad do Drugs or perhaps Growing Old Disgracefully.

In early 2000 I’d finished Drama School and started to write my second play Swirl - about a young couple who, um, re-discover themselves – to keep my brain ticking over in between auditions. Before I finished, a friend reminded me about the New Zealand Young Playwright Competition, and since it seemed such good timing, I entered. Having finished the play I didn’t look at it or let anyone else read it. I needed time for the creative wound to heal. So I was surprised when I received a letter a few weeks later to say that I’d won. As part of the prize, the play was work shopped for three days (a traumatic experience: ego driven director - check, over keen actors – check, haughty young playwright – check) culminating in a cringe-inducing performance. When it was all over, I re-read the play to try and see what it was that had made me write it in the first place. I couldn’t find anything.

A few months ago I found the script. Although I still felt a yick factor reading it, it made me smile. There was something not so cynical in my cynicism, something naive in my worldliness and for that, I decided, there was a kind of beauty to it.

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sex, lies & videotape
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