Workshop Week

Five amazing days with the whole cast and director in the Lab at the Octagon -

DAY 1
It's great to see all the cast assembled for the first time. They sit around the table taking turns to read through the script word by word, line by line and not in the characters that they will play in the production. David instructs me not to say anything. In fact I am to be treated as though I am not in the room. This is to enable the cast to comment freely and to allow me to hear the script afresh. It has to stand on its own two feet without the writer defending it. It does stands up pretty well but I spot some yawning gaps and a few places where the dialogue is over-written.

DAY 2
More of the same. I find it incredibly difficult to keep quiet but realise what an invaluable process this is, allowing the script to be scutinised in every detail almost as if it were an A Level text.
A number of key questions are raised and several inconsistencies come to light. Towards the end of the day I am allowed to speak and answer some of the major queries the actors have about their characters. I am particularly concerned that Huw Higginson is not happy about how his two roles merge in the current version of the script.

DAY 3
A trip for us all to Fred's garden in Radcliffe Road during the morning. A couple of TV crews follow us around and John Branwell and Michelle Collins appear on the local evening news talking about the play. It's great pre-publicity for the show. In the afternoon the script is subjected to a radical cutting/editing operation where scenes are sliced, pruned and welded back together again. David reckons we need to lose about 20 pages of script. I find this really hard because some of my favourite scenes and in my opinion, some of the best lines in the play, get the chop.



DAY 4
The Lab is transformed into the Octagon stage and we work with a substitute set made up of chairs and tables to get the feel of the space and how we might use it within the actual production. It becomes obvious that the set has to almost replicate Fred's actual garden and the work the men do there has to be as authentic as possible. There is even talk of using a real steam engine! I learn to become more objective about the script and even suggest some cuts myself.

I re-jig the script overnight and present the new draft the following morning.

DAY 5
Poor Huw Higginson falls ill during rehearsals and is taken off to hospital for observation. If you are reading this Huw, you'll be pleased to know that in your absence most of the nagging questions you had about your (dual) role have been ironed out! Sheila Dibnah joins us for the whole day and sees the re-vamped script on it's feet. As well as offering some inside knowledge, she also performs an improv with John McArdle. Sheila is very moved by the new version of the play and is not the only one in tears at the end!



As a result of this intensive week the script is quite a bit thinner, I know that its time-line needs a radical re-think and it has become abundantly clear that the design element and the work element of the play have to be carefully co-ordinated and fed into the script.

I've found this part of the process illuminating, inspiring and exhausting.
Time for a rest over Christmas before another draft of the script is due in the New Year.

Intensive Script Development

I am having the best creative time of my entire life as David and I spend a couple of full days at the Octagon bouncing around ideas for the workshop draft of the script.

He floats a wild idea that I take up and run with. It looks like it will be feasible for the same actor to play Mr TV and Isambard Kingdom Brunel after all because we have discovered artistic connections between them. But if we are to forge stronger links in Fred's mind about these two characters, there is some restructuring of the play to be done.

During these development sessions David frequently refers to other plays and playwrights and obviously wants me to aim for the highest possible standards.
It's thrilling to hear him talk of his work with Arthur Miller, particularly about developing Millers' play 'Broken Glass'. I'm not sure that me having the same initials cuts it really!

We have a couple of prolonged discussions about stage directions and the slash(/) used to indicate overlapping dialogue but we never come close to anything that can be described as a disagreement and seem to be very much on the same wavelength.

I come away with masses of notes in my script, a head buzzing with ideas, a heart full of gratitude and optimism.

David says we are 'cooking on gas'.

Lunch at the Royal Court

David and I attend a lovely, informal lunch at the Royal Court where he is presented with his WGGB new writing encouragement award. We are amongst a select few of writers and directors, including one of my all time favourite playwrights, Timberlake Wertenbaker. She makes a great speech about writers needing a home and about new writing not necessarily being young writing. She also wishes me good luck as she and her director, Purni Morell, dash away back to rehearsal at the National studio.

As the wine flows freely we enjoy the food and the company but, unfortunately, we too have to make a hasty exit before the dessert because we are auditioning actors for the Fred play across the other side of London. David, who obviously knows the city well, says it will be quicker by tube so I find myself tagging after him, tottering on high heels, which I haven't had chance to change, trying not to lose him in the crowd as we change trains several times in the underground.

More casting

I am invited to a meeting with David, administrator Vicky Entwistle and freelance casting director, Kay Magson, to discuss the casting of the other four parts in the play now that the two main roles are sorted.

At the beginning of the meeting David looks at me and smiles and says 'Isn't this exciting!' Well, yes, and I'm still continuing to pinch myself!

Kay has done her homework thoroughly and produces mugshots of actors who might be worth considering.Her knowledge of them is pretty extensive.

Between us we come up with a long list of possible actors whose availability Vicky is going to check. At that point we'll discuss the short-list.

A couple of days later I get an early morning text from David saying how come I had only one woman in the cast and wouldn't it alter the dynamic if I added another female character? It certainly would. It would throw everything up in the air!

David wins Writers' Guild Award

I've been keeping it quiet, just in case he didn't win but he has won!

Some time back I nominated David Thacker for a Writers' Guild award for encouraging new writing (because he's been so fantastic in the development of the Fred play) and now the guild have got in touch to say that David (and I) are invited to the Royal Court in London for an awards luncheon in November.
Oooh! What to wear?

Casting news

At last I am able to tell people something I've known for a while now.
The contract is signed and Ex-Eastenders star, Michelle Collins, is to play Fred's wife in the play. It's a terrific coup for the Octagon and for The Demolition Man too.
Sheila Dibnah herself texts me when she hears the news -
'That is TOTALLY FANTASTIC! Wow!'
She's a tad pleased, then.

Total nightmare

During the early hours of the morning I have a anxiety dream - not about the writing of the play but about the production.

We are about half way through the run and the actor playing Fred is indisposed. As the only person who knows all the words, I am the automatic choice to stand-in! Knowing the lines is one thing, knowing when to come on stage is entirely another.

The Octagon has somehow transformed into a promenade space where there are numerous possiblities as to where the next scene might take place. I am confused because I cannot even wait in the wings listening for my cue to enter.

I spend the first half in the dressing room on my own in a complete panic. However, it turns out that I am not required to appear at all. 'This can't be right'. 'What is the writer thinking of not to include the main character before the interval?'

On top of all this, I know I look ridiculous in the costume and I have lost the flat cap in amongst the chaos of the dressing room. How the hell am I supposed to play the part of Fred without wearing his ubiquitous flat cap?

Done but not dusted

I lock myself away to polish up the script bearing in mind David's comments.
I also add a new scene and re-vamp the final sequence entirely.

After I have submitted the new draft on the agreed deadline (phew!), I look around the office where I work. It's a tip. So is the rest of the house.

As I get busy with the duster and hoover, I have a quiet sense of satisfaction that everything play-wise is on schedule.

Guilty as charged

We have a final session on Act Two before I go away and work on the next draft. David, in his totally charming manner, accuses me of -

1) Including too many expletives.

2) Sometimes repeating myself.
(Does he mean I tend to duplicate what I've already said?)

3) Splitting an infinite in a stage direction.

I ask you!

In a bit of a lather

David and I have several meetings on the script in the space of few weeks. (Rehearsals for the autumn season start soon so he is trying to build in as many sessions for developing the play as he can before he gets ultra-busy.)

We finish the detailed examination of Act One and I complete the rewrite. David is inspirational. His great gift is that he knows instinctively what works and what doesn’t work theatrically. He is also generous, kind and full of good humour.

Elizabeth Newman is often busy with other things but pops into our meetings occasionally, sometimes bringing tea and treats, sometimes bringing good ideas to the table. At one point she provides great insight into a particularly sticky scene. Thanks, Lizzie!

I am glad when we move onto Act Two as the jokes in Act One are beginning to wear a bit thin on me. However, I’m greatly encouraged by David’s comments about the script as a whole. He thinks the play is turning into a much more profound piece now. Ooh, good.

There is some exciting news over who might play the part of Sheila Dibnah, but I’m not at liberty to say anything until the deal has been struck!

Bolt-ons

Sheila Dibnah, Fred's widow and film-maker, Nick Wilding, come to the Octagon for a meeting with David Thacker and myself to discuss how the play is progressing.

We also throw ideas around about the potential additional Fred-related events that could be mounted in the lead-up to, or during the run of, The Demolition Man. Sheila and Nick have a "Fred Dibnah Night" that they present together and Nick has miles of footage of Fred that has never been seen in public, some of which could be included in the production.

Jon Gilchrist, Head of Marketing, pops into the meeting and seems excited by the number of possible 'Bolt-ons' that could be part of the 'Fred Fest'. Leslie Etherington also drops by to ask Sheila about Fred's favourite foods so that these can be incorporated into the Octagon restaurant's menu for pre-show dining.

All very exciting.

Writers' Spiral

I have a writing weekend in which not much actual writing gets done. I never experience writers’ block as such but suffer from something I call ‘writers’ spiral’, where I feel to be stuck on a particular idea and end up going round with it in my head in ever-decreasing circles.

It helps to get up from the desk and do other things. I have to remind myself that I’m just as likely to have a workable creative idea whilst pushing the supermarket trolley or washing the kitchen floor as I am sitting in front of the computer screen, staring out of the window.

A pepper-pot of a play

Lizzie is otherwise engaged today so just David and I meet to discuss my rewrites from last week. Again we read the script out loud and sometimes I play Fred and sometimes I play Sheila Dibnah. David multi-tasks as director/dramaturg and actor - but somehow never gets around to playing Sheila!

I am very pleased that David is very pleased with how the play is developing. He is a man for detail, which I really appreciate and his meticulous approach is helping me to spot the holes in the script, of which there are many more than I thought.

One of the big holes I identified previously in Act One I've now managed to fill, at the same time introducing a whole new strand in the script - about the importance of hands. But as we go through this draft line-by-line I realise it is a pepper-pot of a play. I determine to fill the minutest of holes.

Out of the blue, I come up with an idea for a whole new scene to replace one I've never been totally sold on. This is a breakthrough because the scene I am proposing to ditch is the only interior scene left. David is delighted, I guess, because it has been his wish all along to set the whole play in Fred's garden.

As we pack up at the end of the afternoon (we are about half way through reading the script now) David tells me I've written a love story - a love story between an unlikely couple - and not just a play about a famous son of Bolton.

Dribbling

I meet with David and Lizzie to discuss the latest draft. They feel the play has moved on (phew!) and their general feedback is very positive. David suggests the three of us read the play out loud and, of course, I get to play Fred. This is a fine-tooth combing exercise as we tease out anything slightly unnecessary and untheatrical, anything we feel doesn’t earn its keep or drive the narrative forward. This is a pains-taking operation of two and a half hours – by which time we have only reached page 39 (out of 116)! - but we all enjoy the creativity of dramaturging the play as a team. Principally I learn that I need to be more economical with biographical info and also that I have a tendency to ‘dribble’ (i.e. scenes peter out rather than end snappily). I resolve to stop being a dribbler.

Perhaps I should have cut that last sentence?

A breather and a banner

Now that I’ve fleshed out the minor characters and set all the scenes in one location, I feel reasonably satisfied with the new draft and I email it to the Octagon ahead of the deadline.

This last week I’ve spent pretty solidly working on the play, so I’m more than ready, to take a breather from Fred and all things Dibnahesque to focus on a different writing project for a while.

A large banner is now hanging in the Octagon advertising all the plays for next season. This is just as good as having my name up in lights!

A draft with holes

I’m now tidying up the post-workshop draft ready to send to David Thacker and Lizzie Newman. It’s all but ready and, as David said I could, I’ve included a few notes to them in red. As far as I can see there are still at least a couple of reasonably big holes in the play that need filling . . . 1) a story that Fred tells to Sheila on their first meeting. This has to be a tale of significance about life, death and destruction but I haven’t yet found the right one. 2) A new beginning for Scene 5 in the second act which has to be different to the other scenes in the back garden and shouldn’t involve Dad’s Army.

I will think about these two holes before the meeting on this draft in July and try to solve them in the meantime.

Apart from this there are minor glitches that can be fixed, I’m sure, during discussion with David and Lizzie and in the writing of the next draft.

Surrounded by day-glo Post-it notes

My office walls are decorated with dozens of post-it notes in different day-glo colours as I attempt to chart the story-arc of each of the minor characters and identify where the gaps and the inconsistencies are. Started doing this on a whiteboard but the post-its gradually fell off (infuriating) and so now have secured them to a cork notice-board with drawing pins.

Announcement of the 2011 season

I attend the press night of Rafta Rafta at the Octagon when, in the Hospitality Suite before the show, David announces the new season of plays to the assembled guests. A shiver runs up my spine when he tells people about ‘one of the most exciting plays next season - the world premiere of The Demolition Man’. He also reports that the Octagon Box Office has sold more season tickets in the first day of sales than ever before.

Big cheque

My first fat cheque from the Octagon arrives. A friend says I should have it framed. I decide to bank it - but take a photo of it before I do!

Self doubt and a lightbulb moment

As I beaver away on the script, I get periods of self-doubt. What if I’m not up to this? What if I can’t see it through and something happens to me before I get chance to finish the final draft? What if the play doesn’t live up to it’s promise? These are the ‘what ifs’ of writers’ angst. Then I get a ‘light-bulb’ moment about a new opening for the play and the self-doubt is quashed – for now.

A visit to Fred's garden

David Thacker, Lizzie and I visit Fred’s garden. They are both as amazed as I was on my first visit by the sheer scale of it, the various pieces of iron-mongery and, in particular, the mine shaft with its huge pit-head gear. David has big ideas about doing a TV film of the play in the garden to coincide with the production.


We skip the fish and chips as David is on a diet and end up in Costa Coffee talking about the set for the play – which could be more or less a naturalistic replica of the actual garden or an abstract version of it, or indeed something in between. We have different visions for it, I think, but we are agreed that the mineshaft should form the centrepiece, whatever form it takes. (I am already thinking about a future tour and whether all that set will fit in a van.)

David gives me advice on the next draft. He says I can write notes in it to him and Lizzie and not be too precise about the actual work the men are doing in the garden, if that helps. It does.


David gives me a sneak preview of the new 2010/11 brochure and I am thrilled to see The Demolition Man sitting well amongst, The Price, Streetcar and Romeo and Juliet. Wow!

Talking about Fred

Sheila Dibnah and I meet at the River Pilot at Preston Docks for lunch. (I feel I know her pretty well now as we've met several times during the research for the play and we are relaxed in each others' company.) She is happy to answer my many questions – ranging from what was Fred’s favourite food to how does she feel about the Malc character in the play making a pass at her (character).

I come away with a lot of detail which I can use in the new draft.

Later in the afternoon I meet with actor John Branwell for a coffee. He has already been signed up to play Fred (following his superb portrayal of him at the workshop) and seems as excited as I am about the prospect of a full production. He’s already started his research by reading the Don Howarth's book about Fred Dibnah. We have a pleasant hour chatting about all things Fred before John has to go and get ready for the current show he’s in at the Octagon.

Jigsaw

The finalised contract arrives in the post and it all feels very much of a reality now. I sign on the dotted line and await the first cheque.

I am working towards the deadline David has given me for Draft 1, which is now 7th June and revising quite a bit of the play, particularly the sections that include the peripheral characters. The play is in bits. This is always a scary time when I start to play around with the structure, add extra scenes and cut with a vengeance. Will it ever all fit back together again?

Planning ahead

A meeting with David Thacker and Lizzie Newman (who will act as assistant director on the play). We plan a timetable for the development of The Demolition Man, which is really helpful as it sets out over the course of the year all the deadlines I need to meet for various drafts. We tie these dates into the contract and David has arranged for Leslie Etherington, Administrator, to pop in and discuss amends. Also the other Octagon Leslie – Stage Manager - drops into the meeting to timetable a workshop week with actors in the lab and there is also discussion about having a designer working on the project early in the process.

David, Lizzie and I then discuss casting possibilities and how the play is progressing. I am pleased to find that some of their post-workshop thoughts concur with mine. Also I manage to persuade David that if the play is to be set totally in the garden, Fred needs a private space – i.e. his shed.

Our next meeting in May will continue along these lines but we will actually meet at Fred’s garden in Radcliffe Road (‘over fish and chips’ according to David but 2pm on a Saturday afternoon strikes me as an odd time to eat fish and chips!)

The small-print

A friend helps me go through the draft contract with a fine toothcomb. In the absence of an agent (who would take 10% of the total fee - so no way, Jose!) I feel the need for an extra pairs of eyes. The contract is packed full of legal jargon (heretofores and therins etc) and we attempt to unpick it on my friend’s kitchen table over a couple of cups of coffee.

Getting known

I am meeting a friend for lunch at the Octagon café and bump into John Blackmore, CEO. At first he is unsure who I am then when I start to introduce myself he says ‘Oh yes! The Demolition Man.’ A few minutes later I am equally impressed by a young woman I speak to behind the box office because she knows the name of my play and that it is being premiered next season.

Good communication in the building, obviously.

Publicity proof

The Octagon marketing department email me the proof of The Demolition Man publicity. Disappointingly they have decided not to use the photo I recommended of Fred looking like Isambard Kingdom Brunel. However the publicity does look really good. Perhaps a little dark, perhaps making the play look more like a tragedy than I had envisaged – but still really good. I am pleased to see that the main image is counter-acted further on in the brochure by a picture of Fred and Sheila on their wedding day in a silly pose in front of the steam roller. Great.

Research in Appleby

I head off in glorious sunshine to the beautiful Appleby-in-Westmorland in Cumbria where I have an appointment with TV producer, David Hall. Incredibly he made over fifty films with Fred. He didn’t particularly like my portrayal of him as Mr TV in the workshop, so he wants to talk to me about his relationship with Fred. Also he has some very useful inside information on ‘Dad’s Army’.

I come away from Appleby after four hours, my head filled with new ideas. I also have a copy of David’s book. Fred: the definitive biography and a couple of DVD’s that he kindly gives me.

Officially contracted

A phone call from Lesley Etherington, Administrator at the Octagon, about the contract. I manage to negotiate an extra week for the re-write. As the play will go on in April next year they want the next draft by early May. (I can do this?!) She tells me the play is to go on for a month, a week more than the normal run, as they think it will be very popular. (Oh yes!) I am to be paid in instalments – the first payment up front when I sign the contract and the next on production of the first draft. The second two payments will be a box-office advances. I’m to get 8% of the box office take overall. (Sounds good to me!)

The publicity machine kicks in

News of the commission is only just sinking in and I get a phone call from the marketing department at the Octagon. They want me to produce copy for the brochure for next week! This is because the programme for the new season is being prepared - and as the Octagon plan a whole year ahead the whole thing is quite urgent. They also want my suggestions re a suitable image for the play’s publicity. The photo by Paul Wolfgang Webster that I’ve recently seen in an exhibition at the Royal Exchange springs to mind. It’s Fred in a stovepipe hat posing as Isambard K Brunel and it strikes me as a near perfect image for the show.

They also ask me to put them in touch with Sheila Dibnah re other possible photos. I contact Sheila who also agrees to write some copy for the main body of the brochure and says she up for any interviews etc. nearer the time of the production. I suggest to her that she tries to get her autobiography published to coincide with the play – dual publicity and all that. (I can picture her sitting in the foyer during the run of the play signing books.)

This sets me thinking about other possible ‘add on’ events that could be held around the production – talks, exhibitions, film-shows and I contact the Octagon with a list of suggestions. My mind is buzzing with ideas of a total Fred Fest and I can see the café offering Lancashire Hotpot, black puddings and Spotted Dick.

Commissioned!

Three days after a workshop on my play about Fred Dibnah, called The Demolition Man, I get a phone call from David Thacker, Artistic Director at Bolton Octagon, offering me a commission. The play will be programmed in the main house for spring 2011, so we have a whole year to develop the existing script. This is my first full-blown commission and is the culmination of seven years of playwriting. An absolute dream come true! I am leaping about, whooping, laughing with excitement – inside. On the phone to David I am as cool as a cucumber. He says he would like to direct the play himself, if that’s alright by me. (Was Shakespeare a playwright??)