Imagine pouring your heart into a story, tapping it out on your phone during a commute, only to have it win a prestigious award. That’s exactly what happened to Georgina Duncan, whose play Sapling recently snagged the Women’s Prize for Playwriting. But here’s where it gets controversial: Duncan admits she knew little about the Troubles in Northern Ireland—the backdrop of her play—before she began writing. Yet, her dedication to getting it ‘right’ led her to immerse herself in Belfast’s history, even paying local actors with pints and chips for their insights. Did she succeed? Critics say yes, praising Sapling for its raw portrayal of a community grappling with grief and loss.
Set in 1990s Belfast, Sapling follows 16-year-old Gerry, whose brother was murdered a decade earlier by another child. Duncan describes the play as exploring ‘the scar tissue behind grief,’ a theme deeply personal to her. ‘Grief terrifies me,’ she admits, and this fear fuels her writing. What’s striking is how Duncan, a trained actor herself, brings her characters to life on the page. Her experience on stage—including a role in the legendary The Mousetrap—shines through in her dialogue, which actors are itching to perform.
And this is the part most people miss: Duncan’s journey to becoming a playwright wasn’t linear. Growing up in Lancashire with working-class parents who had no ties to the arts, she was encouraged to chase her dreams despite financial struggles. Her obsession with drama school led her to London’s prestigious LAMDA, but writing came later, after a hiatus from acting. ‘I think I want to write,’ she told her mum, who simply replied, ‘Well, just do it.’ That straightforward advice sparked a creative fire.
Duncan’s persistence paid off, but not without hurdles. Sapling was ‘shopped around’ for years, nearly winning awards but always falling short. ‘The industry is brutal for newcomers,’ she notes, especially for those without connections. This is why awards like the Women’s Prize are so vital—they level the playing field in an industry where women’s voices are often sidelined. Consider this: in 50 years, only seven women have won the Olivier Award for Best New Play. Is this a reflection of talent, or a deeper systemic issue?
For Duncan, the £20,000 prize isn’t just a financial boost—it’s validation. ‘I feel legitimised,’ she says, finally confident enough to call herself a playwright. Her story raises a thought-provoking question: How many other talented writers are out there, waiting for their moment to shine? And what can we do to ensure they get it? Let’s discuss—do awards like these truly democratize the arts, or is there more work to be done?
