To celebrate the Scenesaver release of a series of audio plays by Sound Escape Theatre, a collection of audio dramas made in Scotland, writer Jill Korn tells us how she became an actor and writer, and how pantomine’s Principal Boy influences her. 

In my loft (do not go there), in file drawers and tucked away at the back of the odd cupboard are forgotten notebooks, folders and scraps of paper covered in my writing. When they are found after I’m gone, I hope to be beyond embarrassment. They contain scribblings, poems, bits of diaries, unfinished stories and heaven knows what else, and should never see the light of day. This is not false modesty; they are, as far as I can remember, awful. 

What holds some of us back from doing what we love? Where does the courage come from at 22 to strike out as a writer, even a bad one? I didn’t have it, that’s for sure. It took me forty years and the threat of a boring retirement to take seriously something I had only played around with before.

I went back to university; this time in Glasgow and spent two years writing and talking about writing with people mostly (but not quite all) much younger than me. At the end of the first year, we were to plan our creative projects for a Master’s degree in Creative Writing. I can’t imagine why I hesitated: short stories? A novel? Not poetry, that’s for sure. And then the realisation: audio drama. Of course.

 I have always enjoyed theatre; from when I can remember, I was taken to the Christmas pantomime at the Birmingham Rep and I was entranced by everything about it. The velvet seats; the tiny opera glasses; the romance, the costumes, the colour! Booing at the villain every time he appeared. And my Nan, laughing till she cried at the comics’ jokes and rude songs. I wanted to be onstage, playing every part, but most especially the Principal Boy, that glamorous contralto who was so clearly a woman dressed up as a handsome prince.

Children make up stories; I love watching them do that when they’re unaware of adult company. I distinctly remember making up my own in the form of conversations with myself. I thought in dialogue then, and I still do.

In those forty years, I got married, had children, worked, and built a small business as a learning and development specialist. In my 50s, I took acting classes in the evenings and met a group of people who were keen to perform. We put together a pop-up theatre group called Stark Theatre, because we had no premises, costumes or props. Between us, we ran for ten years, performing written and improvised plays in cafés, basements, halls and pubs.  

My first play, Collaboration, had been floating around my brain for years just waiting, it seemed, to be written. The story of Edith Piaf, patriotic to the core, who was accused after World War 2 of collaborating with the Nazis, had long interested me. Also, I had read the unauthorised biography of Piaf by Simone Berteaut who falsely claimed to be her half-sister. And although I set out to write that part of Piaf’s story, I found that the voice of Simone took over in my head and the story became that of a complex relationship between three very different women. I tried it out as a public reading to my fellow students and then set about recruiting actors, getting it recorded (very badly) and being rescued by a BBC-trained sound designer who had also played the part of a Nazi officer. It got me a first-class grade at Glasgow University and was shortlisted for an award at the 18th International Audio Drama Festival (Hörspielsommer) in Leipzig.

I went on to write my least popular play, Confessional, which is about the relationship between Gilles de Rais, a medieval hero turned serial murderer, and Joan of Arc. It’s a sad, brutal play, very well acted by a large-ish cast. You’ll realise by now that I am fascinated by history; I want to imagine the people behind some of these extraordinary, distant events and find out to what extent they are instantly recognisable to us in their motivations and emotional lives.

Since graduation, I have written and produced six more plays. There are two more history plays based in Ayrshire where I live (Scotland is full of castles and dark tales) and other, lighter stories, based on local folklore, especially around the islands off the west coast of Scotland. I am privileged to work with immensely talented and generous people: actors, sound experts, musicians whose combined skills bring the written words alive for listeners across the world.

It’s hard to analyse your own writing process and other people do it much better than I could. My daughter, herself a writer, observed that women play a prominent part in all my stories, and it’s true — their voices sound the most insistently in my head. I suppose it’s not surprising — I’ve been one for 68 years, but I can’t help wondering whether they are all really just a version of my favourite pantomime character, the Principal Boy.

The following audio plays by Sound Escape Theatre will be released on Scenesaver during September and October:

COLLABORATION — Was Edith Piaf guilty of working for the Nazis?

CONFESSIONAL — A medieval story of evil and repentance

SEA CHANGE — An island love story with a twist, set on the Isle of Arran

GALORE! — How old is too old when mischief beckons? 

THE ESCORT —  A perfect murder is planned

HIGH SPIRITS —  When spring fails to return to a Scottish island

THE LADY AND THE POET —The letters of Mrs Dunlop and Robert Burns

THERE GOES CRAUFURDLAND — Divided loyalties tear apart two Ayrshire families