Richard Walls
Bio:
Richard Walls is a playwright & theatre-maker. His play Fugue in a Minor Key (Shop Front Theatre, 2018) was commissioned by the Coventry 'Road to 2021' fund. His collaborations with actor Rishard Beckett (Instrumental, 2017; The Yellow Post-It Notes, 2016) featured heavily in Coventry's City of Culture bid and their new short film, The Square, will premiere later this year. Previous work includes Clubmartyr (Old Red Lion, 2016); Violet Fields (Royal Court Live Lunch, 2016); Damsel/Wife/Witch (co-written with Laura Attridge and Lewis Murphy; Peckham Asylum, 2016); Accidental Brummie (co-written with writers from the Birmingham Rep Foundry; Birmingham Rep, 2016); and Powder (Theatre Absolute, 2014). He holds an MA in Writing for Performance from Goldsmiths College and a BA in Theatre and Performance from the University of Warwick.
Would you consider yourself to be from a working-class background?
I definitely didn't grow up feeling working class. When you're young you benchmark yourself against the other kids in school, and all you have to go by are things such as how your summer holiday destination stacked up against theirs. Though my dad was a single-parent for much of my upbringing, raising my brother and I on the single wage of a self-employed plumber (before plumbers were rich, he likes to joke), I never felt I was going without much. That's partly because my dad did everything he could to make sure we didn't go without and partly because I grew up under a Labour government, which introduced generous tax credits and other measures to help alleviate the pressure on working class families. Only when I went to university did I become self-conscious of the fact that I had never travelled abroad, that my father wore overalls to work rather than a suit and tie, that I was the first member of my immediate family to go to university. I still didn't feel working class, but I knew for sure I wasn't middle class! And as life has continued to expose me to 'how the other half live,' it's difficult not to look back and see your upbringing and background in a different light to how you saw it at the time.
Did your social background have an impact on your mentality and writing?
I've written predominantly for the theatre and yet I went to the theatre very little when I was growing up. It wasn't so much that we didn't have the money (though that was definitely a factor) but that my dad didn't really see exposing my brother and I to the arts, to books, to culture as part of his remit. Ultimately, so long as we were sheltered, fed and sufficiently educated then it was job done. After all, ticking those three boxes was difficult enough. I was incredibly fortunate however in that once I had discovered some sort of cultural activity - whether that be writing or playing the piano - my dad was always incredibly supportive. But it meant that I always arrived at everything late, and it's difficult not to feel slightly bitter when somebody tells you about falling in love with theatre at the age of eight following a trip to the Royal Shakespeare Company with Mum and Dad. And even now, despite having had a number of plays produced, I still feel a sense of 'Imposter Syndrome' whenever I'm in the foyer of a large cultural organisation, expecting that at any moment I might get spotted and ejected from the building. We're told as kids that you can 'be anything,' but it's a lot easier to believe that if you see others being that thing you want to be or feel at home in the environment where that things exists. And I say that as a white, straight male! Once you bring in factors such as gender and race into the equation, you can see why the arts are still hugely unrepresentative of the nation and the wider world.
Do you feel that there was something specific that made you different to those around you?
When I was ten-years old my mum died. It's difficult not to become more existential when that happens to you, more sceptical about the world and your place within it. Graham Greene once wrote that: "There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in..." This was that moment. I started asking the big questions, such as what would happen if my dad died too? How would I survive that? The immediate result was that I tried a lot harder at school, not only because I suddenly felt a good education was paramount to my own survival, but also because it made my dad proud of me, and that pride was something I craved. Furthermore, life was suddenly incredible tenuous, it could be taken away from you at any moment, so there was absolutely nothing wrong in pursuing that which you actually enjoyed. The sum of it all was that I ended up being incredibly serious and committed to what I once would have termed unserious pursuits, like music and drama.
How and why did you start writing?
I usually did well on creative writing assignments at school and that gave me the confidence to write outside of class. I started to have little poems published in a local magazine which made my dad very proud, and that in and of itself made me want to keep writing. But I didn't really appreciate how powerful writing could be until I read a play called Comedians by Trevor Griffiths at A Level. The play is about a night school class of would-be comics, all striving to be discovered by a talent agent so they can hit the big-time. But when they learn the talent agent is after only those comics who can appeal to their audience's worst natures with sexist, homophobic, racist material, they each have to decide how much of their integrity and social responsibility they're willing to sacrifice in order to be successful; and they begin to question to what extent they can use their art to make society a richer, better place. And it's also a really good play! It was the first time that I truly appreciated that writing was something worthy of dedicating your life to and that contemporary writing that challenged its audience was essential to a healthy society. It validated my desire to write and from then on I never looked back.
How did you get past certain obstacles such as social mobility and a lack of class diversity in writing?
The greatest difficulty for me was overcoming impostor syndrome, that feeling that somehow you don't belong, or that your voice isn't one that people need or want to hear. It wasn't until I went to university and saw how many of my contemporaries had been going to the theatre since they were kids that I realised how late I was to all this - and how far behind! They all seemed so much more confident and talented than I was. Many were super keen to write or act or direct. They were producing plays and taking them to the National Student Drama Festival or the Edinburgh Fringe. I was overwhelmed by this and just stuck to getting good grades on my essays because that's how I had always measured success. It's something I massively regret now because I realise how rare it is to have three years when you can just try stuff out and be creative without having to take huge financial or reputational risks. Fortunately after graduating I discovered The Shop Front Theatre in Coventry, and the artistic director Chris O'Connell and producer Julia Negus took me under their wing, encouraging me to write, mentoring me and staging my work. There's a lot of new writing programmes in the industry now geared towards increasing representation, but nothing validates your existence more than seeing your own work staged.
How would you advise others to keep trying and dreaming?
The greatest advice is that which sounds the easiest to do but is actually the hardest, and that's to write every single day. If you can manage that, everything else will fall into place. You'll finish what you start, you'll have greater confidence in what you're writing and you'll have the discipline required to keep going. Success is a habit and all that. But it's the hardest advice to follow because nobody is asking you to write every day, and nobody is going to punish you for not doing it. So it's all on you, and unfortunately that means dealing with the million and one voices in your head telling you why you shouldn't. As human beings we're programmed to choose the path of least resistance, so more often than not you don't write. It's important to forgive yourself when that happens, but not to let that forgiveness become yet another reason why you don't sit yourself down and get back at it. Then the next best thing you can do is find your tribe, those people who will nurture and support you and your work, advocate for you. We have so many different ways now of connecting with like-minded people. It costs you nothing to reach out, to say that you like somebody's work and would like to chat with them about how they go about writing and making work. But it does take a certain amount of courage, and that can be difficult to muster up in the beginning. That's one of the things I miss so much now that the theatres are closed, the connecting with new people before and after a show.
What is it about growing up working-class that benefits a writer?
What you bring to your work is your entire life up to that point, so any experience you have is the stuff of art. Furthermore, because working class voices, stories and narratives are still in the minority, there's a greater need and demand for those voices to find the public. But unfortunately there's no getting past the fact that the industry is still skewed heavily in favour of those who have access to greater resources (money, contacts, etc.) - but that will always be the case, and not just in the arts. What's crucial is to recognise that you don't need anyone's permission to write, and then to recognise that you have as much right as anyone else to tell your story. The challenge then is not to be pigeon-holed into telling a particular type of narrative that conservative audiences are happy with or being defined as particular 'type' of writer, with everything you've written being viewed through the prism of that type. This isn't an issue for me, because I'm white and male. Nobody tries to pigeonhole my experience as 'speaking about the white male experience.' But for other writers I know who are women, or from an ethnic minority, or disabled, it's often difficult for them to have their story received on its own terms, without others trying to box it in or view or it through a prism they would never apply to a white, male writer. That's not to say it's always a bad thing to apply these lens - sometimes the writer wants that lens applied - but it can be reductive, patronising, or even coercive.
What happens after having your first play produced, how do you continue your success?
Unfortunately, and a lot of other more successful writers would probably echo this, after you finish one play / project you will have to at some point start another one, and as this next piece is something completely new that has to be tackled on its own terms. So often I sit down to write a play and feel as if I've never written a play before. That's because I've never written this play before. That can be daunting and exciting in equal measure. In terms of finding the work an audience, it's important to nurture relationships with people who might be able to support your work. On the theatre side, which theatres are producing new writing? What kind of work are they looking for? Is there a writing group you can join? Often it's not about finding a home for the play you're writing at the minute, but the play you'll be writing next. Who might there be who can read an early draft and give feedback? Furthermore, writing is a lonely and solitary activity, so surrounding yourself with like-minded people who are equally as passionate about new writing will do you no end of good. I'm an Associate Artist of Theatre Absolute and a member of the Belgrade Theatre's Springboard programme, and both of these were only possible because I reached out to those theatres and said I wanted to get involved.
Do you still consider yourself working-class?
Class is a constantly shifting concept, and hard to pin down, but I definitely don't consider myself working class anymore. During the pandemic I've been fortunate enough to be able to work from home in North London. Whenever the buses went by during the first lockdown, I knew the people on those buses were frontline workers - many of them were going to stock the supermarket shelves for instance. I felt immensely privileged. I often see class in terms of opportunity these days. I was fortunate enough to get a good education and that education has shielded me ever since. I live in an area where I have access to good transport, job opportunities, services. Where I grew up in Coventry now has a lot of boarded up shops and the young people are leaving to find opportunities elsewhere. Fortunately, organisations such as the Coventry Business Improvement District and the City of Culture Trust are doing a lot to get people, organisations, the city council and businesses working collaboratively to grow and extend opportunities. That's a positive trend. But I worry about whether the national government cares enough about the places being left behind. Post-pandemic will be a make or break time for many areas around the country.
What are you working on at the moment?
I finished my first novel last year - and it's awful! But at the moment it's very much about keeping those writing muscles going, and so long as you write every day you'll be a better writer every day. So I'm currently working on another novel whilst I allow the first novel some distance. I'm also creating a short film with the actor Rishard Beckett called The Square which will be coming out later this year.