Guest Blog: Writer and Actor Nancy Farino On The Challenges of For New Writers and Her Debut Play, FATHERLAND

A brief list of career related questions I will simply never have the answers to:

- “Oh, you act. Have I seen you in anything?” - Well, I don’t know what you watch. If your viewing is solely made up of WWE then the likelihood is no. (I don’t look great in lycra).

- “Which one is traverse and which one is proscenium arch?” Honestly, it’s just never stuck.

- "But Nancy, why don’t you just write to The National Theatre and ask them to put your play on?’ Well-meaning family members have indeed suggested the above. Fair play, a hand-crafted letter to the NT carries some direct ‘hire me’ energy softened by the whimsy and personal touch of the written word. But, alas, it doesn’t work like that. Which I tell them. Which, then they will proceed to ask: ‘So, how does it work?’

And honestly, I have no idea.

I was a part of the 2025 cohort for Hampstead Theatre’s INSPIRE programme which was truly fantastic. A space for emerging writers to develop a play over the course of a year and meet up for monthly Q&As with some of the industry’s most beloved playwrights and directors. We had some corkers - David Eldridge, Tim Crouch, Nicholas Hytner and Winsome Pinnock - led by Roy Williams.

One of the main questions that would be asked again and again to each interviewee was ‘how did you get your first play produced?’. That illusive first step on the ladder. And, often, the answer was as simple as ‘I sent it in’. At first, I felt as if I owed the aforementioned family members who suggested such a thing an apology. But I am stubborn and as genius as those plays were - and worth every penny of the postage stamp - times have changed.

It’s safe to say the submissions system of theatre is overwhelmed. I am lucky enough to be represented by a great agent. But a large part of finding that first credit still involves submitting things yourself. There are dedicated, brilliant literary teams at theatres across the country who do read hundreds and hundreds of plays submitted - but more increasingly with budgets growing tighter and the loss of public funding, these teams and their resources are cut, if not entirely in some cases. Sometimes, sending your play in can feel like a speck in the cosmos.

Fewer plays are being staged - down a third on average over the last ten years - and theatres need to guarantee that money won’t be lost. Cue the revivals! Love a revival, but not great for new writing.

I should also mention now that regardless of new writing or not - a survey in 2022 by The Stage showed that 74% of credited writers in UK theatre were male. I’ll be honest, it’s not ideal.

So, now we’re all thoroughly depressed, what gives?

My debut play, Fatherland, opens at Hampstead Theatre this autumn. The play has been a work in progress for years - I started writing it back in 2022 after making the groundbreaking discovery that parents are indeed fallible human beings too. It follows the story of a father and daughter road trip to County Mayo which inevitably is somewhat disastrous.

Throughout the three-four years of writing it, along came the INSPIRE programme, a few meltdowns and now, my professional debut. But during all of this, keeping the flame of an idea alive, there were R&Ds.

Fatherland itself had two main R&Ds - both working with the brilliant RAW Inventive. The play evolved massively off the back of both of these - I mean, seriously, at one point I was considering using puppets.

I don’t want this to get preachy - hear me when I say my inbox has been bursting with rejection emails, whilst I queue to sit at my £100 ticket for the fifth revival of a play by That One Guy. I’m pretty sure I saw a literal tumbleweed at one point. In Dalston?!

My advice would be to don’t stop working on that thing. Whatever that writing project is. Feel free to become frustrated and put it away for a few weeks but keep it ticking away. I believe it’s immeasurably important for emerging writers - it is these spaces that shape the play, where mistakes can happen and solutions be found, without the pressure of a deadline or a looming opening night or financial stress. (On that note, we open 31 October at The Hampstead Theatre, please come?!)

To try and conclude this, with the industry facing it’s own problems, whilst we call upon the powers that be for change, my only advice would be to get that R&D in in someone’s flat with the big lounge. Blackmail friends into a Zoom reading. Try the puppets (they won’t work).

It was these things that kept Fatherland alive rather than in an over-crowded inbox somewhere in the ether. Thank you to everyone who has been involved in this play over the years and helped shape it into what it is now.