Being a writer is a bit depressing. The screenwriting world is in crisis. Theatre is in freefall. If you back this profession up – like I do – with writing-related corporate work (I do more than write, but words are still significant), too many commissioning folk are still in the “AI can do it for me” phase… they’ll learn, but how long will that take?
So – we wordsmiths are all feeling a little undervalued. And poor.
Words matter. Your skill with words matters. And if you do not have that skill, there are humans who do. The Writers’ Guild of Great Britain has been fighting a hard battle with the UK Government about AI’s plundering of our creative work. The default should be that our work retains its copyright; that our work should not be harvested to fuel training of AI – which then puts us out of work and produces less-quality pap. If you agree, that link above lets you add your weight to their campaign.
An aside – did you know that the harmless-sounding rebuff, “Poppycock!” is derived from “pappy kak”, which means, “soft shit”? Words, you see, matter.
So I have not been writing any new play this year. Or any new screenplay. I have scripts I plan to rework, but the opportunity cost of doing that work is huge – it’s time I need (at the moment) to use to earn money for the bills ‘n’ stuff. Putting on a play costs a fortune (read my excellent* piece about this in the 2026 Writers & Artists’ Yearbook – our industry bible).
But I have been creating. I finished converting that quantum physics play I loved into a book. A novella. And I loved it. Deeply. I found a wonderful editor and we did that thing. Yup – the painful stuff, fist in mouth, Going Through The Text. And she told me what I knew: that while this works for an audience as a play, as a book? Non. That’s about the nature of the theatre vs page-reading experience, but also about the book market. But she also told me something I did not know for certain – that I can really write prose. Which is nice, to coin a phrase.
I’m not going to tell you what the new novel is about. But it’s coming at a steady rate of about 10,000 words a month and now I know it better, the pace is picking up. Wish me luck to keep going, avoid the head-tangles and billion pot holes that are inevitably ahead…
And there’s one more relevant thing – I’ve been teaching. Two semesters with visiting US undergrads, through Advanced Studies in England. Some very brave, hard working and talented young folk went from zero playwriting experience (and some, zero script experience or theatre exposure) to creating really good and exciting working drafts of a new thirty-minute play. They really were exceptional, and it was an honour to see how each used the techniques I taught them to fashion whole, believable worlds, with such distinctive tone, wit, pathos and energy.
And in that vein, I’m honoured to have been asked to run a half-day course in scriptwriting in March. It’s hosted by the wonderful Clare Reddaway, an outstanding writer who also does this great stuff. Here’s the link to all the courses she’s got coming up – take some time, book one if you fancy it, and generally enjoy the site.
And that, lovely reader, is that. To those of you who subscribe and get this by email, I’m so chuffed you’re still here. I know you won’t accuse me of overfilling your inbox in 2025!
If you are a writer, be kind to yourselves, but be kind to your stories – get them out of you, at the very least. If you are a theatre, screen or book lover, please support quality, small outlets, independent folk like us as much as you can. It really makes a difference (my hack on this? Watch your films and TV series via UK-based channels who pay writers and producers to make work if you can; never go for the big streamers first).
Happy new year!
* it is an excellent piece; I’m hugely proud of it and it’s been reprinted so far each year since 2023. Lawks, that boast is uncomfortable 😉
Gill Kirk, writer 
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