I鈥檝e entered quite a few competitions in my time: the 1995 Castlegregory Wheelbarrow Race; 鈥淲in a Grand鈥� with Daybreak; and the occasional raffle. Some of them have even been writing competitions: like the one in Primary 5 where we had to hand write The Lord鈥檚 Prayer the neatest we could. It was the nineties. Someone wrote 鈥淗arold be thy name鈥� instead of 鈥淗补濒濒辞飞别诲鈥� because they thought it meant him off 鈥淣eighbours.鈥� I didn鈥檛, so I came second. I received 50p and a sticker and with it, the respect of my peers. (Not really, but I did get a sticker and my Mum was well chuffed.) The submission process was simple - just give it to the teacher when finished, then go outside and play 鈥淕ladiators鈥� with your friends while you wait for the results. The selection process for the Frank Deasy Award was slightly more rigorous and didn鈥檛 involve any children charging at each other whilst pretending to be a sweaty fifty year-old-man with long hair, big guns and a fake tan. Not my experience of it anyway.
For one thing, there were guidelines: like, writers needed to have had at least one professional drama engagement behind them. By that I mean, they needed to have been paid to write drama; not that their day job was proposing on top of a high speed train, while their fianc茅-to-be was tied to the tracks as someone played the piano. Writers had to submit an original script and a two-page pitch for a separate idea. Both my entries were based on places I鈥檇 known growing up. My Dad鈥檚 from Northern Ireland so I spent a lot of my childhood in and around Belfast. I remember going to a fire sale in a toy shop where half the stuff was soaked, and the other half was singed. I realised years later it was because a bomb had gone off - and there we were raking through wet plastic and sooty teddies for bargains. It made me feel uneasy, so I wrote about it. The script I submitted was one I鈥檇 based on where I grew up in the East Coast of Scotland. 鈥淏ig Fish鈥� is a drama about four girls who work in a fish factory who are floundering around in a tight knit coastal community. I wrote all the dialogue in Scots. Scotland is in everything I write. I don鈥檛 remember loving it this much while I was growing up. But maybe I had to leave to find this fiery affection I have for it.
Once I鈥檇 submitted my entry, then came the waiting. I do not like waiting, whether it鈥檚 for inspiration, trains or Godot, I am not a patient person. As a writer I should be good at it, since I seem to do it a lot - the waiting for feedback; the suspense of results. I am not good at it. Waiting makes me anxious. I spend a large portion of my life in a state of semi-anxiety, mostly because I鈥檓 waiting. Sometimes it鈥檚 because I think I鈥檝e left the gas on; or ghosts; but mostly it鈥檚 because I鈥檓 waiting. Luckily though, the waiting wasn鈥檛 too long. I received an email telling me I鈥檇 been shortlisted long before I developed any sort of RSI from pressing the *get mail* button. Then I got another one saying I鈥檇 been invited to interview. I read both emails so fast that I only saw the words 鈥渨e are delighted鈥� and 鈥渃辞苍驳谤补迟耻濒补迟颈辞苍蝉.鈥� Both times I had a sudden panic after that I鈥檇 got the wrong end of the stick and the email was actually a backward commiseration. Kind of the opposite of when Louis Walsh breaks news to X-Factor contestants; when he鈥檚 like, 鈥淲e鈥檝e made our decision....鈥� Big pause, then: 鈥淚鈥檓 sorry....鈥� And you can see in their face they think they鈥檝e buggered it up; that they鈥檒l have to go home to Halifax to work in Gregg鈥檚 again; and that even when they鈥檙e icing buns in their eighties they鈥檒l still be known as the person who *nearly* got through to Live Shows. But then Louis does this little impish smile and goes: 鈥淚鈥檓 sorry - but you鈥檒l have to do this all over again. You鈥檙e in our final three!鈥�
I thought I鈥檇 received the inverse of that, via email. 鈥淲e鈥檝e made our decision.鈥� Big pause then: 鈥淐ongratulations.....because you don鈥檛 have to spend ten hours on a train on a round trip to Glasgow!鈥� Luckily though, it wasn鈥檛 like that. I did have to spend ten hours on a train on a round trip to Glasgow; I did have to feel that nervous; I did have to turn up so early for my train, I was early for the one before; I did have to eat all of my lunch at half ten in the morning because I needed to do something with my fingers that wasn鈥檛 eating them; I did have to run across Glasgow鈥檚 Squinty Bridge because the other one was shut and lateness was a sudden possibility; I did have to go in and talk to the Head of 麻豆官网首页入口 Scotland Drama and the Creative Director of New Writing about my script and idea in deep and exposing detail; and I did have to walk through 麻豆官网首页入口 Scotland reception afterwards and remember how much I鈥檝e wanted to work with the people inside that building ever since I knew I wanted to write. Then the next day I found out I鈥檇 be doing that and suddenly the anxiety fell away . Well nearly. I鈥檓 still a bit anxious that my kitchen might be haunted. But mostly I have genuine Labrador excitement about the next six months. The last thing I was awarded was an Ocado free gift, but I didn鈥檛 order my fifth shop on time. I promise I鈥檒l be more on the ball when it comes to this.
Kirstie Swain and Katie Douglas are the winners of The Frank Deasy Award and will taking up the position of Writer in Residence at 麻豆官网首页入口 Scotland for a period of 6 months, to develop an original idea for 麻豆官网首页入口1, with the aim of getting their pieces commissioned as a script on the 麻豆官网首页入口 Scotland Drama development slate.
Kirstie Swain is a Scottish writer originally from Berwickshire in the Scottish Borders. She is now based in London and is a graduate of the 麻豆官网首页入口 Writers Academy 2011/2012. Since then, she has gone on to write for some of 麻豆官网首页入口 One's biggest flagship shows, including Holby City, EastEnders and Doctors. She was recently shortlisted for the 麻豆官网首页入口 Three iPlays strand and is currently developing ideas with 麻豆官网首页入口 In-House and Hillbilly Films and Television. Her play Demolition In Progress was performed at London's Baron's Court Theatre in 2011 and she co-wrote Our Days Of Rage for the National Youth Theatre, which was performed in the Old Vic Tunnels over the anniversary of the 9/11 attacks.