[ENSEMBLE SING: We walk proudly, and we walk strong]
I grew up in the North East at the same time as Billy Elliot.
One day I just had this image of a little boy in a tutu in one of the mining villages
that I knew well from having grown up there. And then the story all came to life.
I sort of call it a fantasy autobiography. I'm terrible at dance, and my Dad wasn't a
miner, he's quite similar to the Dad in the musical.
Nothing's specifically true but it all relates to when I was young and growing up.
I've always been surprised that people from all sorts of different parts of the world,
with completely different lives, find something in it.
I think that's what's great about storytelling - if you find the right story and tell it
in the right way, you know, people can come from all sorts of places and find something
of value for them.
Because ballet is something which you need immense physical resources for, and strength,
it embodies all of the things that the macho culture of Northern England value,
and there seems to be this great contradiction of people not understanding how hard and physical,
and tough you have to be to be a dancer, so I though that was a really interesting
thing to write a story about, the contradictions in people's attitudes.
And the sort of ignorance of people about what it takes to actually be an artist and
make something.
The best writing and the best drama is something that is very, very personal to the people
who are involved in doing it. And so you should never, ever be scared of
that, you should always embrace that as much as you possibly can.
'Cause everybody's unique, that's the great thing about theatre, that you can be unique
and you can entertain, and educate, and communicate with other people by being yourself.