Truth in drama is forever elusive. You never quite find it, but the search for it is compulsive. The search is clearly what drives the endeavour. The search is your task.
A few friends and me used to go and watch Bunuel, Carne, Cocteau... Cocteau and Bunuel were surrealism. And I was very excited by that. 'Un Chien Andalou', especially.
One way of looking at speech is to say it is a constant stratagem to cover nakedness.
Sometimes you feel you have the truth of a moment in your hand, then it slips through your fingers and is lost.
I find the whole Blairish idea more and more repugnant every day. 'New Labour': the term itself is so trashy. Kind of ersatz.
Quite simply, my writing life has been one of relish, challenge, excitement.
