Fishamble has been busy this year with its major developmental project, A PLAY FOR IRELAND, wherein the writers created 30 new projects in collaboration with our partner venues: Belltable, Draíocht, The Everyman, Lyric Theatre, Town Hall Theatre, and Pavilion Theatre. A PLAY FOR IRELAND is supported by Tesco Finest, with transportation partner Irish Rail. Below, some of our playwrights share their thoughts and experiences during the first year of this initiative. Karen Cogan & Noelle Brown - The Everyman, Cork
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The Play for Ireland process is one that has been defined by a strong sense of community and network. As the sessions have progressed and the plays have been developed, there has always been an atmosphere of generosity and support not only in the individual venues but across the entire programme. Indeed it is now entirely possible to spot when two Play for Ireland playwrights are in the same room. One looks at the other with a sense of exhilarating terror, usually connoted by the raising of the eyebrows or the furrowing of the brow. The look is then in some way reciprocated by the other playwright and in this way, the tension is relieved for another few weeks. |
The Town Hall has been a wonderful venue for our group and we are always warmly received. So many of our country's greatest playwrights have migrated West in search of inspiration. We can only speculate as to how the works of Synge or Lady Gregory might have been bolstered by the luxury of a cup of tea and a half a twix on a quiet train journey before reaching the hallowed ground of Connaught. What has been particularly enjoyable about this process is meeting the other writers and discussing each other's work. It's always a nice feeling when your impetus to write is borne out of the excitement just to find out how your play ends. This process has given me a good few of those moments. Mind you, I still haven't a clue how it ends. Come back to me in a few weeks. (Exeunt, pursued by a deadline).
Clare McMahon - Lyric Theatre, Belfast
First up was Kerry. In our tiny Toyota Aygo my husband and I followed the trail of tourist packed buses around the breath-taking Ring of Kerry. I had been told of its powerful views but nothing could prepare me for how utterly amazing it was up there. Living in Belfast I’ve gotten used to the urban landscape, and the Hills around the city satisfy any longing for greenery, but to stand and see an expansive landscape full of mountains, cliffs, a plethora of greens, and lakes, lakes inside mountains, I was taken aback. Inspired. In my mind Ireland was a small country, with ups and downs, but standing looking across the Lakes of Killarney, I felt like a giantess witnessing the world.
I was also delighted to discover, in true Irish style, the ever-popular Avoca had set up camp on a sharp bend in the middle of the ring. American tourists crashed in and out as if this may be their last Latte before they journey back to the states. It was difficult to reconcile the inspirational effect of the view with the constant battering tourists seemed to be having on the place. A place of beauty had hundreds of buses rattling through it every day. It left me with a feeling of unease, and a hope to return in the depths of winter, to witness the place in solitude.
I was also delighted to discover, in true Irish style, the ever-popular Avoca had set up camp on a sharp bend in the middle of the ring. American tourists crashed in and out as if this may be their last Latte before they journey back to the states. It was difficult to reconcile the inspirational effect of the view with the constant battering tourists seemed to be having on the place. A place of beauty had hundreds of buses rattling through it every day. It left me with a feeling of unease, and a hope to return in the depths of winter, to witness the place in solitude.
On the way to Dingle our car exhaust fell off. All the potholes had been too much for our 900cc car and the exhaust bracket disintegrated. As it was Saturday evening, we could not find a mechanic willing to help, ‘I’ve to be in Killarney for seven’ one said to my other half. I called my Dad. Even from Belfast he helped – the mystical power of Dads. He told us to try tying the exhaust back up to what was left of the bracket, that in the eighties he had driven home holding the exhaust on with a piece of cord laced through the window, he said everything would be fine, if we got to Dingle he’d get someone to come down for us on Monday. We went into a small shop and two wonderfully helpful women decided a metal coat hanger would work. Off home one went to get three hangers from her wardrobe. The other-half did the dirty work. I stood and hoped. We were saved, and drove off at a snail’s pace towards Dingle.
Dingle on Sunday morning was grim. Rain, sleet, wind and sunshine all within a few hours. We couldn’t complain. This was the first break in the summer heatwave and the farmers were delighted. We spent the day in the pub. Watching hurling and reading books. A proper summer holiday in Ireland.
Dingle on Sunday morning was grim. Rain, sleet, wind and sunshine all within a few hours. We couldn’t complain. This was the first break in the summer heatwave and the farmers were delighted. We spent the day in the pub. Watching hurling and reading books. A proper summer holiday in Ireland.
We finished off our trip to Kerry with a good Sunday dinner and a trad session. I was convinced to do a jig and so, much to the American’s delight, I tried to keep up with the ever-quickening three-piece troupe. On Monday morning we drove the ‘local’s road’ to a very friendly mechanic, who reattached the exhaust and charged us pittance. I regret we didn’t manage to convince his dog we were worth bothering with. Off home to Belfast we went. Having missed the marching for another year. One county down, thirty-one to go. |
Barry McStay - Draíocht, Blanchardstown
Being selected for APFI has been great for me. Writing is such a solitary process at the best of times, getting together every month or so to check in with Fishamble and the other writers at Draíocht, my venue, has been a relief. Getting to sit and chat with people who know EXACTLY what you’re going through, who share the same fears and hopes and more fears and a few more fears, it’s immensely reassuring. |
I suppose it’s a competitive process but it certainly doesn’t feel like it. And exchanging supportive tweets when one of us is bemoaning lack of inspiration, or is convinced the latest draft is bollocks - it feels like there’s a little family of us. Having Fishamble there behind us, with Jim and Gavin’s support and insight, has made it all possible. They’re like the dads we don’t want to disappoint, the teachers we have to make sure we get the work into on time, and the weird likeable uncles who probably aren’t actually uncles but that’s what we’ve always called them who play football in the back garden with us, beat us 11-0 and at the end we realise they’ve taught us a real life lesson somehow.
The whole APFI process has been the right balance of hands-off and hands-on. I wish writing every play I had this little family around me.
The whole APFI process has been the right balance of hands-off and hands-on. I wish writing every play I had this little family around me.
Shannon Yee – Lyric Theatre, Belfast
Now that the summer is over, the time has been flying swiftly by! It feels like only the other day in April when we all met for the first time as the 30 playwrights in Dublin at Fishamble’s offices, and now the December deadline for the Phase One final draft is around the corner! At the April meeting, I remember thinking , ‘’these plays are all so different, and all so interesting—I’d go see all of them!’ I don’t envy the task ahead for the judging team… |
By the end of December our A PLAY FOR IRELAND playwrights will submit full drafts of their plays. In Spring 2019, 6 plays will be shortlisted and optioned by Fishamble, and by Autumn 2019 a final play will be fully commissioned and tour to all 6 participating venues around the island of Ireland.