What does theatre mean to you?

Theatre is a place where no one is passive – not the cast and crew, obviously, but not the audience either. Everyone in the room makes a contribution to the story being told. A good play allows the audience to reflect on character, motivation, future events, possible outcomes. This is why, in the best productions, there is a sense that everyone is “leaning in”, bringing their own imaginations to bear on the fictional world sketched by the actors and creative team.

What is your best teaching moment?

I’m very fortunate to welcome eighteen mid-career playwrights every year to the Criterion New Writing program. That means I have dozens of rewarding and, sometimes, surprising teaching moments in each twelve months. The ones I like the most are those that demonstrate that a writer has begun to internalise the tenets of narrative structure that we practice, meaning that their future work will be unencumbered by technical thoughts – and therefore more likely to flow. That said, what we teach isn’t news. We just happen to be good at articulating and implementing it.

How important to the industry do you believe the Criterion New Writing Programme to be and what do you think has been its greatest success?

Success in the theatre depends on relationships. In our case, all that we do is charitable, financed by the Criterion Theatre Trust. That means that our work can be fully “writer centred”. Whatever each writer wants to produce, we go with that, providing actors to read the brand-new words aloud in the magnificent 19th century auditorium, providing story development and editorial commentary. Our success is evidenced by the dense and intricate network of graduates of our programme who still – some of them are many years later – continue to work together, as well as the superb new scripts many of them go on to produce.

Which of your plays / musicals is your favourite of perhaps closest to your heart?

I love writing musicals and, with a composer-partner, have created several shows for youth theatres with casts of fifty or sixty – productions entirely dependent on the energy, talent and enthusiasm of the young people. I also love writing straight plays in which the rhythm of dialogue is almost a type of music in its own right. Then there’s the first important production I staged after the lockdowns of the coronavirus pandemic. One of our venues was out of doors, in summer, surrounded by mature trees, in an auditorium built from timber from the adjoining forest. What’s more, it was a play with songs based in English folklore, but with a contemporary story, enlivened by a supernatural element only revealed right at the end. The Unquiet Grave is perhaps the show closest to my heart.

Were there any similarities you found between writing a novel to writing a script?

Anyone who has tried to adapt a novel for the stage will have discovered that the key is all the things you have to leave out. I mentioned earlier that the audience is an active participant in the creation of an imaginary theatrical world. The reader of a novel, though they make a contribution, is inevitably more passive.
Sight is, for most of us, the dominant sense. A novelist has to work hard to paint a picture of each location, of each character. I’ve heard from several readers who have aphantasia who appreciate the trouble I take in presenting the visual aspect. That, of course, is the job of the designer and the director in a theatrical production – always assuming that the play demands a realistic set. I’m actually just as happy with a bare stage, relying on the skill and energy of the actors, selling my words to the audience.
Writing a novel and writing a script represent very different challenges.

Where did the inspiration for the dystopian crime thriller genre of the books originate from?

The Coming Darkness is a novel that explores fast-paced dynamic sequences of dramatic action, set in 2037, and the psychology of a secret service agent who, for reasons he can’t quite understand, is the only person to sense the imminent danger of a worldwide conspiracy. As the plot develops and the drama accelerates, he realises that the future is clouded by treachery.
The Coming Storm, the sequel to The Coming Darkness, picks up the action just a few days later and reflects my own idea that the challenges faced in writing an exciting race against time rely on there being more than one enemy, more than one competing world view, always another villain to take down. That’s the fuel that provides energy to the mechanism of the plot.
In the broader sense, I suppose my inspiration was the world around me in spring 2020, locked down and stifled, theatre illegal, needing to find another creative outlet, guided by quickly evolving global circumstances. You won’t be surprised to hear the chief among these was the widespread environmental degradation that has led to a flourishing of “climate fiction”, novels written that – at least in part – address this greatest challenge of our age.

Where did the inspiration for the Alexandre Lamarque character come from?

This is a great question and the answer might be disappointingly short. Alex is the person that I needed at the heart of the plot. His attributes are defined by the dynamic, intelligent, empathetic, enterprising person I needed him to be.

What was the writing process like for this book compared to the first novel “The Coming Darkness”?

I had a head start in writing the sequel to The Coming Darkness because my first draft was far too long. In the editing process, I removed two entire subplots that became central to the action of The Coming Storm. In addition, I knew that Alex had to get closer to his ultimate enemy, without reaching the final confrontation because that would have to wait for the third volume in the trilogy, The Coming Fire – which I’ve written but not yet edited.

How important was it for you to have theatre involved in the novel?

There are no theatre scenes in the Alex Lamarque trilogy, but there are a number of what I might call “set pieces” that feel theatrical. I’m talking about board meetings or conferences, political combat between important diplomats and leaders. I have recently written a novel set in a theatre, but that’s another story.

With the success of “The Coming Darkness” was there any added gravitas you felt approaching this sequel?

The only emotion that I feel when people tell me that they have enjoyed one of my fictional works – whether a play or a novel – is gratitude that they have paid attention to what is, after all, a “tissue of lies”. The fact that they bring so much goodwill to my work is the reason that, for them – for those who like it – it seems real.

What do you hope the audience main take away will be from reading your Alexandre Lamarque novels?

I would like them to take an interest in my imaginary people, the themes they articulate through their actions, the in-depth research that I have conducted to try and make everything plausible and compelling. But I would also like them to look forward – perhaps even with impatience – to the next book in the series.