The best thing about being a playwright? The satisfaction of creativity. The worst? Press-night parties attended by friends, industry people and celebs. Playwright Terry Johnson says he knows writers who find such occasions so hellish they’ve been put off writing plays altogether. The problem is the corrosive, deeply unsettling belief that everyone is lying to you. Everyone knows the rules: on press night, say something nice, even if it was a giant turkey. No negatives. That’s the critic’s job. But writers know this, so never believe any compliment, ever, even if the person paying it is telling the truth. The only time a writer can be sure of something is when they hear the dreaded words ‘You did it again!’ or ‘What an achievement!’, which, translated, mean only one thing: ‘I really hated it.’
I have bravely – foolishly? – agreed to play the minor role of myself as the play is about my relationship with my mother and the director thought it was a good idea. I hope he’s right. The usual response when I tell people this is: ‘That should be easy. You just have to get up there and be you.’ But it isn’t. Being yourself on stage is different from being yourself in real life. Which of your selves do you portray? And how? And I’m no Olivier. But I have acted before and hope to be better than O.J. Simpson, who played himself in films. His director said: ‘His acting was like his murdering: nobody believed him but he got away with it.’
An old stage joke: it’s easy to make a million in the theatre – you just need to start with a billion.
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