I've been trying to figure out who I am. I mean, that's what therapy is all about, isn't it? Shedding all the Stuff that sticks to you as you go through life. De-magnetising yourself until you're left with yourself.
I used to think I had nothing to say as a writer. How can I ever be a writer? I have no opinion about anything. I can always see all sides of an argument. Nothing is ever decided in my mind. Everything can be re-thought. Isn't a writer supposed to have a Voice? I have no voice. I can't be a writer. I've got nothing to say.
When I wrote my first show for kids, I determined that it would have no moral to teach. I was sick of doing bible-story shows: Joseph, Jonah, Noah. Moral, moral, moral. I set out to write shows that were just fun, that had nothing to teach. Looking back on those first four shows, I discover that they have things to say after all, although no-one seems to have noticed. Even I didn't notice at the time.
That's the thing about Voice: it happens when you're not looking. In fact, it only happens if you're not looking. Try to put words into a character's mouth and you end up with blatant exposition: it becomes entirely your voice, which is not the same thing. Let the character speak, and you probably won't know what the hell is being said until it's written. Until you see it on stage. You can only hear your Voice in playback, and then only if you know how to listen for it.
I can only see myself if I step away to look. I use my therapist as a mirror: I express myself, he reflects an image back to me and then I see myself. It's the same with my writing: I express myself to the characters, they reflect a story back to me and then I see myself.
But I can't stop and look when I prepare to write, or while I'm writing. I have to trust, and damn, I find that hard. I'm an appalling dance partner: a good dancer, but terrible at letting someone else lead in improvisation. I cannot be waltzed. I cannot let go.
During the writing process, I find it very hard let go of my insecurities as a writer. That's the strongest part of me as Writer, of course, so it's the most prominent. My poor characters have to shout to get through. So I interview them. I make it their problem. I pretend they have a problem talking, and I try to engage them as my therapist engages me when I'm finding it hard to talk: I ask them questions about themselves.
Doing that puts me in the role of therapist, which means I have to make it all about them and nothing personal about me. I have to show real interest in what they have to say, and give them the freedom to say whatever they want - even if it's not the direction I wanted the conversation to go in. I have to trust them to speak, and trust myself to believe them.
Sometimes we talk about things they don't want to talk about, or can't articulate. I push them gently, pry answers from them, keep asking.
Step away from the work, and that's all me. Step into the work and it's not about me. I give myself the freedom to speak, and I make discoveries. Real, honest discoveries. Things I didn't know about the characters - about myself.
And then the truth comes out in the writing, and truthfulness allows the audience to connect with the characters. People can sense a lie, even if they don't know it, and lies create emotional alienation. We don't always seek the truth, but we have to react to it when we encounter it.
I've been trying to figure out who I am. Shedding all the Stuff that has stuck to me as I go through life. De-magnetising myself until I'm left with myself. I am daunted by that task: how far back do I have to go before I found the me who doesn't consist of reactions to the world? Coping mechanisms, defense devices, bandages, band-aids and butterflies. How can I know what still needs healing if I don't look beneath them?
And what if I strip them all away and find that beneath them, I don't actually exist?
I used to think I had nothing to say. That I had no Voice. But when I step away from my writing, I can see myself in it. I can sense a lie, and when I encounter the truth, it hits me like a ten-ton truck. There I am, bare-boned, de-fleshed, truth-full.
Beautiful.
