Auckland's Sam Brooks has made waves with clever and striking works like Another Dead Fag, Queen and Riding in Cars with (Mostly Straight) Boys. We catch up with his as his latest work, Wine Lips, is about to hit the stage. Do you have a ‘coming out’ story, and if so what is it? I don’t really have a coming out story; it’s always been sort of assumed. I’ve been really secure in my identity all my life and I’ve never really felt the need to come out, as such. I’ve been lucky to have a super supportive family and group of friends around me that I haven’t had any strife because of it, and I’m very aware that I’m very lucky to have been born when I was, because any sooner, or perhaps even later, I wouldn’t have been able to live my life the way I have.You are only 23 and have achieved so much already! Has it been an easy journey or a tough one to getting your work on stage? I guess at this stage I don’t really have anything to compare it to. It’s definitely been a journey with challenges, and you do end up sacrificing a little bit of yourself with each project, especially as a writer, where if you’re doing it right you should be exposing a little bit of yourself with each story, but I’ve made so many friends and received so much love and support from this community that it’s made any sacrifices worth it.What remain the biggest challenges? And what achievements are you most proud of? The biggest challenge is making a living from it. I’ve been working constantly since graduating and I’ve finally been able to make my living from this. You’re always looking around for the next paycheck, the next way to pay your rent and it’s as tiring as it is motivating. I’m proudest of Riding in Cars with (Mostly Straight) Boys. It’s the first show I’ve taken to Wellington, and despite some classically Wellington weather, we were received really warmly down there and then when we brought it back up for Pride, the responses from all kind of audiences; gay, straight, old, young and everywhere in between really affected me. It seems like you take inspiration from the real world in your writing? I definitely do that. It’s an old cliché to write what you know, but for me it’s less writing what I know and writing what only I know. Specificity is key to making something more universal, which is something I learned with Riding in Cars with (Mostly Straight) Boys, which is a play that is so specific and so close to me that there were some people in my life who I had to sort of clear it with. That play affected people from all kinds of demographics, and it reminded me that no experience is singular; something you think is just yours could resonate and bump up against someone else’s experience in ways you didn’t think it could. How important is it to tell gay stories? Really important, but I think it’s even more important to tell good gay stories. I’ve seen a lot of the same gay narratives trotted out as recently as this year and they don’t interest me any more. I think it’s very easy for queer writers to get stuck in the same narratives that are preaching to the queer choir, and I’m hardly exempt from this, but I am super conscious of it. I’m less interested in telling gay stories than I am in utilizing gay characters to explore universal experiences like people struggling with their identity in Another Dead Fag or people stuck in a rut because they’re scared of putting themselves out there like in Riding in Cars. I think there’s a huge amount of depth to dive into with gay narratives and we’ve only really just begun to do that. How important is humour in your work … and in life?! Humour is ridiculously important to me. When you’re writing fairly heavy, emotionally raw stuff every day, it’s nice to relax at the end of the day with an old episode of Friends or 30 Rock. In my work, I think humour is your way into the audience’s good books. Life is full of humour, even in the most dark places, and nobody wants to see a relentlessly, punishingly depressing show or film because that’s not how life is. You have to make ‘em laugh to make ‘em cry. What is the gist of Wine Lips? What can audiences expect? Wine Lips is three things at once: It’s a love letter to the industry, it’s a ‘take that’ to the industry and it’s opening up the less glamorous parts of the industry for the general public to see. It’s very easy to get caught up in the glamour of opening nights, expensive costumes and pretty lights, but I think it’s good to peel that back to show the sides of this industry that frankly suck. It’s an industry where everybody is chasing the dream, and I feel that people, whether they’ve made it, are in the process of making it or are trying to make it, don’t often stop and look at what that dream costs them. I think audiences can expect something along the lines of my earlier stuff, but stretched a little further in each direction. It’s definitely funnier than my other stuff, and it makes fun of this industry in a way that’s hugging it while simultaneously stabbing it in the back, but there are also moments where the weight of life really fall on the characters and I think those are going to be magical for an audience to watch. It must have been tough to grow up with a stutter? How has writing a play about it helped? We all have our difficulties growing up, so having a stutter isn’t so different from any of the other problems that someone may have. It hasn’t been easy, but life isn’t easy for anybody, really. I think researching and writing a play about it has made me more accepting of my stutter, but I think that’s also a side effect of just growing up. You care about less, in a good way, and the little things that bothered you as a teenager and young adult just fall to the wayside. What would you like to be doing 10 years from now? Ask me in nine years and eleven months! But seriously, I don’t know. I feel like I’m about to hit the ceiling of what this country can give me where my career is concerned, so I’m interested in going overseas and trying my luck, whatever that might mean. Any advice for young playwrights? 1. Read. Read as many plays as you can. I read about 100 plays a year, from the old Greek ones to Shakespeare to Ibsen to Chekhov to Williams to more recent playwrights like McMillan, Adly Guirgis, Herzog and Baker. Learn your craft, figure out what you like and what you don’t like, and more important what’s already been done. We already have a Streetcar and that one is already flawless so we don’t need another. When I see a play, I can see a mile away if that playwright knows their craft and the history of it or not, it sticks out like a sore thumb. The plays are all out there, so it’s easy to brush up. 2. Don’t be precious. Let people read your writing, let people give you feedback and learn how to take it on the chin. Your first draft is always going to suck, so be ready to throw things out, try things out and mess it up. 3. See theatre. Similar to reading as many plays as you can, but there’s a boatload of theatre in Auckland out there, and I learn more about the art of theatre-making and playwriting with every show I go and see. Not only that, but it lets you know what’s going on in your industry, who is good, who is not so good and also what niche you can fill in the industry. 4. Nobody cares if you write a play or not. This sounds like mean advice, but I find it very liberating. At the end of the day, the onus is on you to write a play, make it good and then maybe even put it on. The world keeps turning even if you don’t do it, so it’s on you to get off your ass and actually do it! Written and directed by Sam Brooks, Wine Lips plays 26-30 August, 7pm and 9:30pm at The Green Room of The Basement Studio, Lower Greys Ave, Auckland. Tickets $20, booking fees may apply. Book at iticket.co.nz or 09 361 1000 GayNZ.com staff - 17th August 2014