Josh Coles-Riley
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What I do:
I started writing plays when I was about nine years old: surprisingly political musicals which usually involved a lovable misfit going on adventures and experiencing some kind of voyage of self-discovery. After this early run of creativity, I started writing other kinds of stuff (fiction and so on). But in my second year at university I went back to theatre, writing a play set against the backdrop of the drowned village of Capel Celyn. This play, *The House We Grew Up In*, was a winner of the Marlowe Masterclass prize and was included in a showcase of new writing at the Soho Theatre. It also led to me being nominated to join the BBC Sparks scheme for new radio drama writers. Right now, I'm full of new ideas and itching to get writing again. I'm also extremely excited by what NTW are doing in Wales and would love to be involved, in almost any capacity, even if it's not writing.

Opening speech from *The House We Grew Up In* (just a small taster..)

1.       1965. Capel Celyn.

Mari: In the dream, the waters are rising. The lower rooms are filled to the ceiling with water and I walk among them. Things aren’t quite right; they never are, in dreams, when laws can be broken... (Realises.) It’s the furniture, it is. The table and the dresser should have floated upwards but something weighs them down. The room is full of water but they stay on the floor. Why is that? (Beat) I look out of the window, and I see...nothing. (Pause.) Slowly, I walk through the house, my stick tapping. I push open every door – check on them sleeping. My Tomos is a boy, still, and the man that he became, with his wife beside him. Sarah and Owen are both children, so small. The waters are rising but they’re safe still. I put my hand on their foreheads: dry. So, I keep going. (Quickly, increasing intensity.) There’s a room missing, I can’t find it; there should be more rooms, where does she sleep? (Beat.) And then I remember. When I get to my room it’s full of bones, floating on the water. (Pause.) It’s just a dream. Nerys tells me that this image I have is all wrong, anyway. There’ll be no drowned house, fish swimming in and out of the windows, algae blooming from the chimney like smoke. They knock it down, see. They knock everything down. And they’re going to take away the gravestones. I was angry about that, but now I feel glad. Imagine them there in their rows at the bottom of the lake...inscribing the dead... no mourners... (Pause.) I never thought I’d leave this house. There’s time yet. Maybe I never will.


Josh Coles-Riley's Blog

TEAM Panel Intro

Hello everyone! This is a little essay/story I wrote about when I first got excited about live performance, and what I am excited about today as a member of TEAM panel (is it sposed to be capitalised?? who knows!).

THE SHEEP was torn in half in front of us. It happened in a school playground on a hot night in summer – but the playground was also a Cornish fishing town, a courtroom, a valley, a mountainside, a…


Posted on January 24, 2013 at 6:00

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At 12:02 on November 6, 2011, Catherine Paskell said…
Hey Josh, welcome to the community! Great photo :) x

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