The Duck: An Autistic Play

I’m in hiding. I don’t have time to be in hiding, it’s possibly the worst thing I could be doing at the moment, and yet hiding is where I am.


I feel like I opened the floodgates because a beautiful butterfly fluttered by, and now the waters are rising and I can’t get the damn (flood-pun!) gates closed again.


My procrastination has procrastinations. Just as my introduction is bleeding into introductions. All to avoid the awfulness of self-promotion and just how uncomfortable that makes me.


I have a box of flyers sitting in my kitchen, sulking at me. It has developed hunched shoulders and a glare. It knows it contains words that I’ve trapped onto a page, and it wants to fly free and spawn its letters everywhere. Instead I have thrown things atop it, thrown it guilty glances, and am tempted to throw it out.


One of the problems with promotion is contact; new contact that I don’t know the rules for. I have been raised to be painfully British and self-deprecating, but those rules don’t work when you actually want people to believe that what you have done is good; you need to be loud and proud, and those things jar with my need for peace.


Instead I am doing what I do; I am writing about my experience of something new that is difficult, and through doing that I hope to innocently sucker you all in to coming to my Play.


I have written a Play. I am enormously proud of it, and of course terrified that the world will rip these words from my chest and devour them in front of me; all creative-types know that fear.


It is a play about a late-diagnosed autistic woman. It is story-telling and memories and moments. It is beautifully performed by Lucy Theobald, who has exceeded all my expectations and been thoroughly good-natured about all my micro-managing of the character. Somehow, she has made an authentic human from my scramble of words. It’s been a pleasure to watch her emerge.


I recognise so much of my process of masking and building my social character, in the way that Lucy puts together the Duck. There is a pleasing construct within a construct, a Russian-doll of people all leading back to a small girl trying to build a face that the world would accept.


You can find details on future dates HERE and read some views of those who have seen it through unbiased eyes.


If you are in the area, or know someone who is, and you think they might enjoy this, then please send them my way. I would very much love to see you there. I’ll be the plonker in the corner, sitting on a box of undistributed flyers, hoping everyone has received my psychic summons, and worrying about how I can ever make it up to the paper I have wasted. Come and say hello – or if you’d rather not, then I love nothing more than receiving an awkward wave; it makes me feel like I belong.









22 thoughts on “The Duck: An Autistic Play

  1. You’ll do just fine ❤ I can’t be there to see the play nor say hello to you in person – but I’m here on the other side of the north sea cheering and keeping my fingers crossed that all will go well and that you get the breading space you need along the way and in the midst of things. With love ❤❤❤

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I understand completely how you are feeling. This sort of thing is always nightmare but I’m sure (like all lucky ducks) you’ll come flying through with feathers intact. Try not to think too far ahead (not easy, I know) and keep this wonderful achievement at the forefront of your mind at all times. Sending oodles of positive thoughts in your direction! 🦆

    Liked by 2 people

  3. The best I can do is give you a very enthusiastic wave from the other side of the world.

    I don’t know what your plans for the future of the show is, but it would be great if it could be made available to a wider audience. If profit isn’t a motive then maybe video it and put on YouTube?

    Liked by 2 people

    1. An enthusiastic wave is very welcome. It would be really great to make it available to a wider audience. Hopefully we can tour it further and YouTube is always an option 🌱


  4. Reblogged this on Toad's Dimensional Rift and commented:
    If you’re going to Fringe – go see The Duck! Oh, Rhi! Didn’t you know that living as human is a wholly performative act? All of us know this. It’s why taking theatre classes saved my ability to function. Thank you for you play! May everyone see it!

    Liked by 2 people

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