As a result, the Mercury Creatives Deaf, Disabled and Neurodivergent Meet-Up (rechristened from the East of England Disabled Creatives Meet-Up) was pitched as a low pressure, zero stakes opportunity to take up some space at the Mercury unapologetically. Topics of conversation can span from your own artistic practice, to recent issues affecting disability rights, or just what you saw on TV last night.

The space is open and relaxed, with no music or loud noise, wheelchair accessible, and you can drop in, or out at any time.

Some people have attended every single session (Hi, Bill!) Some have only come only once or twice, but none have been forgotten. And all have been noted down for any potential future opportunities from Graeae, the Mercury, or beyond.

For example, Clare Shaw, who attended one of our first meetings, has gone on to be part of the cohort of writers to present their work at our Crips with Chips Showcase (told you we’d get to the chips!).

For the last few years, the Mercury’s own associate artist Nicola Werenowska has been mentoring a group of local deaf and disabled writers under Graeae. On top of Clare, there’s also Sophie Weaver, Mary-Ann Ambrose, Kate Cavill, Daniel Stephen Turner, Catherine Turner, Penny Benedetti, Nix Nugent, and Benjamin Wilkinson. I had the inordinate pleasure of sitting in on their sessions, and making sure everything ran smoothly – becoming an honorary member, in the process.

The group had had a few showcases with industry invites but Graeae really wanted to put on a public facing event to showcase all the work that had been done.

Crips with Chips served as a way to give the writers a condensed whirlwind version of the drafting/rehearsal process, and see what it’s truly like to hand their baby off to other (capable) hands. And have some free chips!

Nicola felt strongly that I should contribute a piece to, and so I submitted an extract of R-18, a piece I’d been noodling over for the past couple of years. It’s the piece that helped kickstart my scripted writing career by getting me hired to write for Big Finish’s Twelfth Doctor Adventures (but that’s another story). This would however be the first time getting it, or anything, staged in front of a theatrical audience – at least since my time at my Alma Mater’s old theatre society.

I was quite enthusiastic to hand it over to a director and see what they did with minimal input from myself. Luckily, it was entrusted to the brilliant Eloise Pennycott – an alumni of the Mercury’s directors programme – as well as a brilliant cast (thank you, Billy, Amber, Craig and Chandu!).

I also found myself directing professionally for the first time as well. Klara by Kate Cavill, is a fantastic new piece telling the story of, well, Klara – a young wheelchair user living in WWII Berlin. The script was equal parts harrowing and hilarious. I’m a firm believer that horror and comedy are two sides of the same reichsmark.

My cast was a patchwork of my time with Graeae – Jenni Pettican was found through VisAble, a company I’d networked with earlier in my journey, and Jess Ashley is someone I’ve been dying to work with ever since I wrote an article on her own one-woman show. Billy Pearson, a Graeae staple, topped this particular piece off, alongside, once again, Craig and Chandu as our BSLI performance interpreters.

Rehearsals were brief but invigorating. Integrating BSL into the show was something I’d never done before, but instantly added another dimension, as we are effectively seeing two simultaneous performances of the same material side by side.

And as a film school grad, I couldn’t help but adorn the piece with period appropriate music and a mid-twentieth century style cinema titlecard. As producer-facilitator-writer-director, I felt obliged to offer the same level of attention to the other shows, and tested my photoshop skills devising titlecards for the other shows.

With more time and a longer budget, I might’ve been tempted to dip a toe into German expressionism for Klara but happily delivered a more stripped back take. Although, when the script called for Ben, the English soldier, to descend down a staircase, I couldn’t help but have Jess descend the aisle and perform ‘in the house’.

I also opted to buy a couple blocks of wood off eBay rather than go through the paperwork even a toy gun or knife would invoice, but the cast were more than up to the challenge of selling the fantasy.

I also briefly snuck into a couple of other rehearsals, if only to see the magnificent Jenny Sealey direct some of the remaining shows. Her years of experience shone brightly as she commanded the room.

Before I knew it, the actual day had come, and after a day of tech rehearsals, printing scripts, and organising crew, we were all sat watching nine brilliant pieces, plus an emotional musical performance by Dan as an epilogue.

I cannot speak for my fellow writers, but I know that as a neurodivergent person I don’t always feel seen. Yet here I was sitting in an entire auditorium watching work that I think held pieces of each of us. It felt exposing, but in the best way possible.

As my time as an associate is coming to an end, I can think of as fitting an end as this event.

Crips in Chips was in many ways a culmination of everything I’d been working towards since starting my role as associate. A breadth of East of England neurodivergent and disabled talent given centre stage. Taking space, unashamedly. And eating chips.

My work now largely consists of reflection and closure. As I type this, plans are under way to meet with the CWC writers for some celebratory tea and cake. I’ve contacted everyone involved for feedback, I’m ensuring all the contacts I’ve made throughout my time are properly recorded, and I’m putting everything into place so that events like the meet-up have legs to continue well into the future.

Legacy is a heavy word to consider at only twenty seven years old, but I like to think I’ve left one here at both the Mercury and Graeae. I’ll leave it up to them to figure out exactly what that legacy is.