So the Trace team are very excited to start our research and development period this week. We’re going to spend nine days refining the script, inviting our activity partners in to help with our research, finding the physical language of the play and adding sound.

We’ve already had a full three days and been busy discovering new ways to bring the story to life.

I’ve been making changes to the script, as it’s so useful to see the play on it’s feet and to really determine which parts need to remain, and what else may need adding.

Anna Clock is creating some beautiful sounds that explore the themes of loss and dementia that add a very moving layer to the story.

Today there’s been some exciting people in the room as Julian Hulme, Avian Palaeontologist has been helping us with with all things Dodo related.

We learnt so many interesting facts about the Dodo that can be so useful when actress Natasha Bain is finding the character. Added to this, we have had movement director Steve Kirkham in who is helping us with the physicality of the piece.

Today we were lucky enough to have Dr Chris Hardy, Postdoctoral Research Associate and Co -Director of the Dementia MSc (Neuroscience) in the room who gave some invaluable insights and knowledge about dementia and the many forms it can take, which we hope will give authenticity to the piece. This fed into some ideas we are testing with the character of Albert in the play who is in the late stages of dementia.

Over the next couple of days and part of next week we will meeting more dementia specialists and developing our ideas further. It’s very exciting to see what happens over this period and how enriched the play becomes being given the space and time to truly explore.

On a practical level I’m learning how to stay still as the writer, (never easy if you have ants in your pants as I do) as normally as an actor I’m the first to get up and want to move around. I find that even when I’m wanting to try a new line out, my instinct is to want to try acting it out first.

Oh and it was my birthday. Strange one this year, as my two Grandmother’s have both very recently died within weeks of each other, one of whom was in the late stages of dementia like Albert. Odd not to receive their cards, odd not to hear their voices. By some strange form of fate, I’m in the midst of exploring grief in my creative practice too.

Team Trace however, really know how to look after you and if it wasn’t gift enough this year that Lexi Clare and Alice Fitzgerald have helped bring my play to life, they also brought fizz and cake (not drunk in rehearsals…). Thank you both, it meant a lot.

So myself and Alice, the director, started our first script session this week with the play, which is refreshing and invigorating for any playwright. We are tightening the dialogue and making sure the scenes have clarity and pace to them. It’s easy to get too close to the lines you’ve written, often months or years before, and whether they make sense and so another eye on them helps immeasurably, even at draft ten, eleven or twelve.

There’s often big gaps in developing stages with a play and even since we had the rehearsed reading at The Tristan Bates Theatre a little over a year ago, personal life, the political climate, new insights, and changes have taken place in real time alongside of Trace’s timeless story.

Little did I know that when writing the character of Albert who has dementia and is dying, and his son, David, who is struggling to say goodbye, that I would fast forward six years to a real life situation where I would find myself in the same situation with sadly the most authentic research to date.

This week, I had to say goodbye to someone very dear to me, My dear Granny. She struggled so much near the end with Parkinson’s disease, Dementia and other infections.

It only served to remind me that we are telling an important and universal story of loss and transformation and the fragile process of letting someone go. When someone has dementia you are constantly looking into their eyes searching for where they are and wondering if they know themselves where they are. I was one of the lucky ones. I had the gift of one brief moment of lucidity before she left, the recognition and the most positive exclamation that it was ‘marvellous’ that I was there. These morsels make all the difference.

One thing we know for certain in this life, is that Grief will visit us time and time again. It is a painful process, and different for everyone. For me, time seems to stop when someone dies and I am suddenly travelling to periods of my life when they were most present. For me, I became a child again, thinking back to all the love she shared when I had lost my father, her son so young. Grief visited her sharply, but even in pain, she chose to keep loving.

My children in real time were only seven and nine when I first started developing ideas for the teenagers in Trace and now as the years have gone by, I find myself with teenagers of my own which takes on a whole different perspective when looking at their narratives. Also with technology rapidly advancing and slang terms and language constantly evolving in the teenage world, it’s amazing how minor adjustments need to be made there too.

I remember working at the Arcola Theatre on the Playwrought programme with another play and being asked to think about how your play has moved in time, and wasn’t sure that it was relevant, but I totally understand it now.

It’s not necessarily about news or themes no longer relevant, but more to do with how you might have changed over time, and what you may have experienced, how that may change your attitude to the play or it’s characters. Possibly it is about the things you have gained in that real life time in-between, but also the things you have lost – both to be learned from.

I wasn’t sure how to write this post, the play being so closely linked to my current feelings, but felt the only way was honesty. Most of my work has always sprung from feelings or fleeting thoughts, or dreams and why should I try and pretend anything else?

The idea for Trace began with a dream I had of my Dad, who I lost many years ago returning to me with limited time to speak. The play then became a collections of other characters, also in the process of losing things or trying to find their way back to themselves.

I’m so excited to finally explore this play, so grateful to Alice and Lexi who secured the funding from the Arts Council, and this week came back to this quote again that I found when first exploring the themes in Trace

‘Your soul doesn’t care what you do for a living – and when your life is over, neither will you.  Your soul cares only about what you are being while you are doing whatever you are doing’ – Neale Donald Walsh

RIP my Beautiful Granny Richards. Daisy Beryl Richards 1928 – 2019.

We are absolutely over the moon to say that we will soon be awarded Arts Council England funding to research and develop my play Trace. Lexi Clare, our producer, and Alice Fitzgerald, director, worked so hard on the application and four attempts later we have secured it.

First steps include checking availability of our Space, casting, planning and contacting our existing activity partners who we have engaged with already when doing the application. Alice and myself have set up some script meetings and we also hope to meet with some of those activity partners who are specialists in the field of Dementia and loss ( Big themes in the play).

You can follow more about Trace and our journey with its development on our Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/tracetheplay/?modal=admin_todo_tour

Also on https://twitter.com/tracetheplay

It’s come a long way as a play and we cant wait to get started on it! Watch this space.

So having felt like I was swimming against the tide for some time and brushing myself down and starting all over again…and again and again, to my delight and surprise a little light has suddenly illuminated in the darkness.  We didn’t get the Arts council Grant first time round at the end of April but on second go after a fair few disappointed moans over coffee  we spoke to some people, put it straight back in again, our wounds licked, and hoped for  the best. And that is when we got we were hoping for. By waiting patiently and persisting.   It’s six years since I first noticed I had vocal problems, five since my right vocal chord was operated on, four since I did the London marathon and met Jo Harper,  my collaborator at a playwriting group led by  the amazing Jemma Kennedy.  Two years later  Jo and myself sat in a café catching up and  decided that, possibly, maybe, we could do something with this material and create a play based on these challenges of how a woman  loses her voice and tries  to find a way back to it.  Without the power in my voice I felt weak, useless, washed up and like I couldn’t recognise myself anymore. When you have spent so long relying on that tool not only as an expression of yourself but also your livelihood, it feels like you can no longer be yourself and  you have to re- invent a new version, one that doesn’t know what else its good at.  It was too upsetting and close to home for me to write myself and I may have played on the darkness and isolation of it all, it being one of the lowest times of my life, but by having Jo as the writer, it seemed we had found the ideal mix, I could share stories, she could bring them to life, without being too emotionally connected.  I had played with the idea around three years ago in Jemma’s class when she gave us  one of  her useful exercises where we had to write something that had happened to us, but merely the facts, without any flourishes. Jemma said that it was interesting as it’s a story of how one muscle fades and is broken but you look for another one to compensate. It went into my notebook and  there the seed was planted ready for a day when it was the right time. And this was it.We’re over the moon that we have finally got our Grants for Arts funding so that we can Research and develop our project Can you hear me running? 

It’s taken time, diligence, regular meetings, calls, advice seeking and workshop attending, but armed  with the right resources, we can finally make a small start on an idea. Because, weirdly enough, that’s why I went into this industry, to be creative but it seems like a luxury these days and not a given that you have room to be an artist.

Today as part of our research, I returned for the first time in five years to the ENT hospital where I was operated on and where I felt like my life as an actor was over. I met up again with the amazing speech and language therapist,  Ruth Epstein who helped me with the at times, incredibly challenging journey. I felt nervous and excited about going back but as I looked around kings cross and all the new shops and changes that have taken place in six years I reflected on how much has changed to myself too, how I took up running, took up writing, found a local job with lovely people, did still work and slowly manage to speak with ease again having had  at my worst been reduced to a breathy whisper.  Above all that, I remembered how small the kids were when I was in my ‘Have to be  silent phase’, how they couldn’t read and so communication was impossible, me trying sign to them or draw pictures to communicate. Somehow though, they came through, as they have with other challenges.

Sometimes it takes a while to be heard, especially when you feel like you’ve been burrowing underground, muffled both physically and mentally for some time. Things happen in life, major changes take place, our sense of security and hope is questioned but bit by bit you try to tend to those parts of yourself that feel broken or lost, you keep seeking out the little lights in the dark windows, painting it, writing it, running past it.. for what is there without hope? There’s sometimes a way out of feeling trapped, even if you’re  standing in the same place you were years ago. You have no choice but to look at things differently. And that’s why I’ll call this new painting little lights.

So here is  Ijmuiden in Holland, the location for my recent job, the feature film Time will tell. It stars the hugely talented Louisa Connolly Burnham  as Kim and I play Joanne, her Mum,  with whom she has a tricky relationship with to say the least. It’s a  gripping story of Kim, a teenager,   who tries to unravel and understand her past, switching between different times not without major obstacles along the way.  I have to say it was one of the most pleasurable, creative shoots I’ve been on in long time. Tonnie Dingens, our director made it a very collaborative process where the actors felt valued and included on decision making.  Moving away from what I call my ‘washing powder mum’ roles ( though let it be said I am hugely grateful for the adverts and err…here’s to another years buy out, bleach anyone?), I finally got to play a mother that is not a stereotypical commercial  ‘nurturer’. She doesn’t wash up. We never see her ironing. There’s maybe one tiny folding scene but not a hoover in sight. She’s complex, exposes dark corners of her soul, shows the less attractive facets of her personality and the mother daughter relationship is complicated, changeable, not something you can pin down and categorize. It’s INTERESTING. I’ve made a damn good job of looking like I care about the cleanliness of my house on the telly, but I had more in common with this character in terms of my domesticity, not the other stuff she gets up to….but then, for that, you’ll have to wait for the film, duh duh DUUUH!! Time – will – tell!  I think the film will do really well with a wide universal appeal  and hope it gets the airing it deserves. Everyone cast and crew worked bloody hard, that’s for sure. You can follow it  @TWT_Movie, or here   https://www.facebook.com/TimeWillTellMovie?fref=ts @louisacburnham   ( Look at me getting all on it now with the self promotion etc – I have no shame.

It was also strange being away from the kids for ten days. I don’t think I’ve spent that long away from them since they were born and had to re- learn to be in my own space without demands being made. It wasn’t hard at first. Being bored in your own company is not a problem when you’ve had kids. You can kill hours wandering around an airport happier than you’ve been in ages . A delay? Oh never mind, I’ll just get another coffee. Longer delay? Never mind, I’ll go and have another look at the selection of Dutch gin in duty free ( I can recommend the orange blossom one) . Yes, it’s nice for a few days to hear your own heartbeat again and eat what the hell you like, watch what you want, and In Amsterdam on my day off, I savoured going to the Van Gogh museum again and just looking, staring, uninterrupted. But as I gazed at one of his late paintings the Wheatfield under Thunderclouds, this:

 I missed them like hell. I wanted them to see it, be inspired as I was when I first saw his paintings. I realised that the person I was who came here seventeen years ago is not the person I am now and I’m happy to be getting older and to have experienced all those things in between then and now. I’m happy with how life changes you, makes some things more important than others, how priorities shift and how I’m far less inward looking than I was then ( She says, writing a blog…look at me..look at me!). Anyway, needless to say, with them in mind, I clocked where the gift shop was having soaked up those bright colours again, and bought a stupid amount of memorabilia. A collection of chocolates wrapped in mini Van Gogh paintings , a few pencils…sunflower bookmarks, key rings, and lets not forget something for the big one too – the husband ( he’d be upset if he didn’t get something.)  He got  a print, that I secretly like, but pretended was for ‘us’ ( come on we’ve all done that haven’t we?)  I looked forward to handing over the goody bags from my adventure and imagined some soft focus reunion on the train platform. I actually had a delayed nine hour journey home thanks to great Western trains and we drank a lot of the Gin I’d bought when I eventually got to Devon, but the reunion was still special.   So  I’d  left the museum for the second time in my life, this time alone, but knowing that when I got on that plane home after  the shoot I would be returning to a place where I am very much loved, especially with a bag of chocolates…and Gin.

So with Easter fully taken up with the filming with a few days spare to clamber over the moors in Devon, my next adventure was to re visit that infamous ‘Pink Lady’ yes, Jennifer Wilson in the episode of Sherlock I did five years ago in ‘A study in pink’. I was invited to take part in the convention ‘Sherlocked’ at Excel.  I had no idea how such a small part could have such an impact and in all the years that I’ve been acting and the many roles I’ve played,  who knew that one little, dead pink lady would be in demand? I was very grateful for the work but felt nervous at what to expect, it being the first convention I’ve taken part in. What if I had to re – create my death and spend another two days admiring people’s shoes like I did with the filming? What if I felt I constantly needed to remind people that it was a bigger part that got cut? Or that my vocal surgery  months before had made my confidence plummet and this was the first job I’d decided to do after it those five years ago?   I needn’t have worried. It was one great big Sherlock love fest. I actually felt like a celebrity for 48 hours. This may never happen again. When would I ever be signing  pink suitcases again?  I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t enjoy the attention and  of being ‘visible’, appreciated, even ironically for being ‘dead’. I’ve had to put on such a tough exterior of late so it was actually very cathartic to be greeted with huge smiles and throw an equally big one back. It must get tiring if you’re promoting all the time and meeting lots of people and having to be on form, but for me, the average jobbing actor, and  as my children will tell you, I talk to everyone anyway ( sometimes to their embarrassment)  it was genuinely good fun.

It was overwhelming how many people came and I was humbled by the huge fan base it has. It’s no surprise, as even if I hadn’t taken part in the production, I am a huge fan myself and think it has been produced, written and directed with such intelligence, humour and inventiveness. But wow! There were SO many people there and I signed loads of autographs. Once I’d got over the indignity of signing a photo of my backside in a pink coat with pale legs, I had a great laugh. I loved it when people really went for it with the costumes and had this amazing photo taken with Coslocked.

And so Monday was back to normal. And back to thinking of the next acting job. And also back to the great team at the Step restaurant where I also work. Life is diverse at the moment, that’s for sure. I’ve just had some new photos that are on this website with the Brilliant Ric Bacon http://www.ricbacon.co.uk/ that will hopefully assist in whatever the next chapter is and then I must get back to writing. We find out about our Grants for Arts funding next week for our  show, ‘Can you hear me running’ so we’re crossing everything for that.

And I think its only fitting to leave you  with the pink lady. Here she is balanced on the most beautiful flowers I was given by the team organising sherlocked.

I guess there really are no small parts…well not if you’re in Sherlock. Thanks for having me.

Redundant
adjective
Not or no longer needed or useful; superfluous.
synonyms: unnecessary, not required, inessential, unessential, needless, unneeded, uncalled for, dispensable, disposable, expendable, unwanted, useless;

Well as 2014 drew to a close it was suddenly far from ‘beginning to look a lot like Christmas’ as the song goes. The part I played in the advert I filmed holding a tray full of parsnips didn’t make it to the final cut, one slice of a commercial montage too many, even in the giddy throws of Christmas consumerism. To say I was gutted is an understatement. See the dispensable parsnip above, and he was only an extra. This was not because I gave my best performance ever (though I did have a tiny inner objective in the scene to get a tray of parsnips from one place to another, ‘I’m a…a worker…a parsnip mover, my job is to…is to…make sure these parsnips are safe…however heavy’,) and not because it’s the most important thing to happen in the world, at all, but because it was money. As simple as that. Three weeks before Christmas and the earnings you thought you were getting are only a fraction of what you signed up for. The same day I also found out that I didn’t get two other jobs, one, a drama that I was very close to getting and that I really wanted.
I was, however lucky that last year had brought so many positive experiences, in other creative pursuits to cancel out the disappointments. And also, by some Karmic justice, fate decided to run a different advert I did last year to make for the loss. The problem with filming a commercial these days is that you really don’t ever know if you’ll be in it, but you place your trust in there and hope for the best. It creates sometimes a tense atmosphere on set though and you often see actors behaving like meerkat’s, ducking and diving and watching their backs in case things suddenly change and the parsnip holder is now the sprout slicer. Its all about keeping you on your toes, remember to drink lots of coffee. Never mix vegetables and film, that’s what I’ve learnt. Unless of course they help you cry, should you so need it. I really could have done with this lot around 1999 when I was trying to squeeze out tears for Holby city. I could have got an Oscar for my performance today.