Books Now!

News and reviews from around the corner to across the world




Well it’s finally happening.  In two weeks I’ll be working with director, six actors and script in a big, empty theatre space for one day’s rehearsal  to workshop the first draft of my new play Muffins at the Death Café. The public reading will be on 2 December.

I’m understandably both excited and nervous. My last two plays have had readings but gone nowhere, even though I was an artist in residence with the two theatre companies concerned. This is the greatest confidence knock a writer can get. You spend one year developing a play and working closely with a company. The public reading goes exceptionally well. The audience love it, applaud, congratulate you. You think you’ve cracked it.

And then the company decides not to run with the baby that you have loved and nurtured and wept and laughed over. You immediately think you are a hopeless writer, completely lacking in talent and prospects, so  you’d better quit now. Well, maybe other writers roll with punches better. I’ve always been far too thin-skinned for my own good.

Writing this new play has been a tremendous leap of faith on my part.

It is certainly a work in progress and needs a new draft, but I believe in the characters and what the play’s inherent message. It has had no development grant or support other than this workshop hosted by Melbourne Writer’s Theatre and La Mama Theatre for which I am exceptionally grateful. I have never worked with the director, Tammie Kite of Innatum Theatre or the actors before, so it will be like stepping into an unknown, rather terrifying but potentially exhilarating universe.

What I’m hoping for is a road map for writing the second draft. Hearing your script read aloud is a wonderful opportunity to see what works, uncover what jars and generate new ideas for plot and character development. I love the collaborative nature of theatre making (it’s probably why I’ve never tackled a novel).

And I love the unique smell of theatres. It hits you when you walk in – a mixture of dust, greasepaint, wood and cardboard burnished by years and years of diverse productions that somehow seep into the very walls.

Theatre making in Australia is a lonely business. There’s little support for playwrights. Which is why many aspiring writers form their own companies. But most of these are people in their 20s or 30s who all went to uni together. They have a built-in network they can tap into.

I started writing in my 40s and I wasn’t born in this country, so forming those crucial alliances has been hard going. Plus I run my own business, I’m married, mortgaged and have family commitments – I’m in a very different space to young, carefree singles. I have also found it absolutely impossible to work the system:  I’ve never been successful in obtaining grants for my work, so in order to produce it I’ve either had to pay for it to be put on myself (very expensive) or rely on  (as it turns out hitherto fruitless) writer-in-residence status.

So – am I optimistic about the future of Muffins At the Death Café?  Yes and no. I’m hoping someone will come along to the reading and like it enough to work with me to bring it to production. But even if nothing happens, at least the creative juices are flowing again after an 18 month hiatus. And that has to be a good thing.

If you’re in Melbourne, come along to the reading at the Carlton Courthouse on Monday 2 December at 7pm. Tickets are only $5, which assists Melbourne Writer’s Theatre run workshops and readings like this one. And if you come, please say hello (I’ll be the woman gnawing her fingernails at the back of the stalls) and say you read this on Books Now!

Author: Dina Ross

Dina is a writer, reviewer, journalist and broadcaster. It goes without saying that she loves books. Her blog, Books Now! can be viewed on and offers news, reviews and interviews with writers from around the corner to across the world.


  1. Congratulations Dina! It must be thrilling to work with a theater group putting on YOUR play. That is just so cool. No matter what happens, don’t give up your dream. Believe me, I know how hurt and disappointed you must have been, but you said yourself people loved it and you got to see it come alive on stage. Isn’t that why we write? The recognition and the money are only the icing on the cake. You did good!

    • Thanks so very much! We are all as writers, unfortunately, dependent on more than audience reaction: there’s politics and who you know and the fact that plays with a cast of 5 or 6 are often too expensive to stage for some small companies. Within all of this, you need to preserve your sense of self-worth as a writer, and as you say, keep the dream alive. I really appreciate your good wishes.

  2. Total respect to you! Good luck with it all 🙂

  3. I wish I could be there, but I am many thousands of miles away. I feel very close to the life you talk about. I know something of this world and wish you a great future in it. Our eldest daughter is a freelance theatre director. At the moment she is in the city of theatre happiness – Chicago, where the work, for a young English director seems to flow in. She reads new plays *all* the time as well as directing (and she is very open to late starters since her mother took up writing late in life). So, should your current projects not get the lift-off you want (and I hope they do), I can suggest another director who will at least read the work.

    • Hilary – how exceptionally thoughtful and kind!

      If you have no objection, and if Elly doesn’t either, I would love to send her my play CROPPED, which was developed two years ago and which won the Virtual Theatre USA Playwriting Competition in 2011, but has not had any success here. Shortly after it won, the Virtual Theatre went bust, so my reading in America was cancelled. The play was then developed with a company here, but again, no luck despite an enthusiastic response at the reading.

      The story is inspired by the Bill Henson affair, where an exhibition of that eminent photographer’s nude portraits of adolescents was banned, as the local council said it was pornographic. The play is fictitious but examines the limits of artistic freedom, the freedom of children, in a setting where one artist’s choices threatens to split her family in two. If this might interest your daughter, I would love to send it to her. Thank you again for thinking of me, Hilary.

  4. Dina,
    I hope all goes extremely well for you this time around! I understand your struggle to balance your writing life with your ‘everything else’ life. i’m in this giant boat with you! I suffer the same struggles as well when it comes to grants…Blarg.
    I’m sure you’ll blog about how it all goes!
    Just be your bad self and it’ll be the best it can be!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s