I’ve been keeping journals since I was ten years old. Stacks of them live in storage boxes now. At first, I thought I was simply collecting material for an interesting memoir one day, but looking back I can see that writing became a way to calm my chaotic inner world. As a sensitive child who had to grow up quickly, it gave me somewhere to put the things I didn’t yet have words for.
Through my teens and early twenties, my journals were a refuge: a home for poems and song lyrics, and a tool that helped me stay a grounded and functioning human being. Recording my experiences and having a space for reflection has always helped me navigate life with a little more clarity. I’m endlessly inspired by the world around me and by the people in it; writing is how I make sense of things. It’s how I understand people, deepen connection, and stay connected to myself.
I wrote my first play at sixteen while studying at The BRIT School in Croydon. It was called The Alchemy of Adolescence—each character inspired by one of the seven astrological planets—and it explored themes of gender, bisexuality, youth crime, and sexual assault. It was performed at the Playhouse Theatre in East Croydon in 2010 as part of the Strawberry Picking Festival.
At East 15 Acting School, I continued developing my craft through mentoring and writing workshops with playwrights Leo Butler and Charlie Josephine. In my final year, my play Dissonance was staged at the Debut Festival 2016. Set in a post-apocalyptic 2020 after a global third world war, it was shortlisted for the RED Women’s Theatre Awards and went on to receive a rehearsed reading at Greenwich Theatre, directed by Artistic Director James Haddrell.
After graduating, I wrote several short pieces for scratch nights at Theatre N16 and a ten-minute play for the Scottish Refugee Festival in 2017. I took part in a playwriting development workshop with Theatre Live Newcastle, and later joined the Soho Theatre Writers’ Lab (2017–18). Around this time, I hit a crisis of confidence and withdrew from playwriting, returning to the safety and privacy of my journals.
Over the past couple of years, performing my own songs at open mic nights and supporting friends at their gigs has slowly rebuilt my confidence. It’s reminded me how much I value storytelling in all its forms. I’m now committed to nurturing my voice as a playwright again—ready to step back into the work, and to finally tell a story I’ve been carrying with me for a long time.

