Dreams and reality
For as long as I can remember, living a creative life felt like an impossible dream, something out of reach from my working-class reality. Growing up, practicality was the priority. Creativity seemed like a luxury reserved for those who didn’t have to worry about rent or whether they could afford to keep the lights on.
Even now, after carving out a career in the film and television industry, that weight still presses upon me. I’m fortunate to earn a living as a post-production supervisor on high-profile TV dramas and independent films, yet the current industry downturn has sharply diminished my income. Without inherited wealth or a financial cushion, I often find myself grappling with the fear that a single setback could jeopardise everything I’ve worked for.
The odds for working-class creatives are undeniably stacked against us. Recent statistics show that just around 8% of those in the UK screen industries come from working-class backgrounds, while over 60% are from more privileged environments. It is a stark reminder that for those of us without connections or financial backing, simply getting a foot in the door can be a monumental task, let alone sustaining a career.
I entered this industry with no contacts, me and my brother were the first in my family to attend university. At the same time, I’ve watched others who were born into the industry quickly rise through the ranks. Their family connections and established networks propelled them forward. This is not said with bitterness, but the playing field is undeniably uneven.
When I tried transitioning from freelance production management to a full-time role after the birth of my first child, the experience was demoralising. Freelance production work felt incompatible with family life, and I barely saw my daughter during the first six months due to the demands of night shoots on an independent feature. Later, I struggled to find full-time employment and ended up on benefits. The process took a toll on my self-esteem and my mental health, particularly during my visits to the Job Centre. Recruitment agencies undervalued my experience, and I felt like my skills and contributions were being diminished.
There is also the added pressure that many working-class people face. We often carry not just the responsibility of our own nuclear families but our extended ones as well. It is not unusual to be supporting parents or contributing financially to those who need help. For those of us in this industry, the instability of the work makes balancing these responsibilities even more difficult.
I recall a conversation with a close friend’s husband several years ago that highlighted our different backgrounds. He spoke from a place of privilege, having attended Eton and benefited from family wealth, while I attended a non-selective comprehensive in South London and received free school meals. He mentioned at the time that he didn’t believe his privileged background had helped him in his acting and writing pursuits. He has gone on to achieve relative success as a screenwriter and actor and I cannot help but wonder how much his financial security provided him with the space and time to focus on his craft, even during periods when he wasn’t getting callbacks for auditions.
Virginia Woolf’s idea of a “room of one’s own” captures this notion well. Although she was addressing a specific class of women, the same principle applies broadly: Having the freedom to think and create without constant financial pressure is a significant advantage that many of us from working-class backgrounds simply cannot afford. It was only after I had moved beyond a lower socio-economic bracket that I found the mental space to start writing, no matter how uncertain my position sometimes felt. What I had always thought of as procrastination might have been more about the lack of space and security to truly engage in my creative work.
When I think about the impact of class and financial precarity on creativity, I also think of my older brother, someone I’ve always admired for his boldness, his talent, and his willingness to take risks. Years ago, he made a difficult and courageous decision to step away from a secure career and pursue acting, something no one in our family had done before. He was incredibly gifted, with a powerful presence on stage and a deep commitment to his craft. I still remember the first time I saw him perform in his Acting MA final-year showcase. His portrayal of a shell-shocked WWI veteran moved the entire audience - it was so powerful that it brought many in the audience, including myself, to tears. I was in awe. So proud of him.
But talent, unfortunately, isn’t always enough. The realities of the industry, particularly for someone without financial backing or a safety net, quickly came crashing in. Like many others from working-class backgrounds, he was forced to take on multiple jobs just to make ends meet, often at the expense of time and energy for creative work. It became a brutal balancing act, and the cost was heavy.
He has given up on acting many times, only to return to it later, constantly drawn back by its siren call, despite the ongoing challenges and struggles. That perseverance, in the face of repeated uncertainty, is something I respect enormously and completely relate to. And it has paid off…
Breaking into the industry wasn’t easy, but he did it. He landed his first role in a long-running British TV drama, and over the years, he’s continued to work, especially in commercials, where he’s rarely out of a job. That kind of consistency, especially in such a competitive field, is no small feat. It says so much about his his talent and his work ethic. His story is one of resilience and determination. And it reminds me that working-class creatives don’t lack drive or ability; we often just lack the infrastructure of support that others take for granted.
Inspired, in part, by my brother’s courage to pursue acting against the odds, I eventually found the push I needed to commit to my own creative path. During the lockdown, I turned 40 and finally put pen to paper after years of procrastination. This forced period of respite eventually lead to me completing my screenwriting and directorial debut, which was supported by the BFI Network and has gone on to win multiple awards globally. I was one of eleven writers to be selected for A Writing Chance, a programme devised and developed by New Writing North, actor and philanthropist, Michael Sheen, and the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, to foster and develop writing talent from working-class backgrounds.
A Writing Chance offered me my first paid commission for a short story I wrote about a young male asylum seeker navigating the UK’s hostile asylum process during the pandemic; it also gave me the opportunity to write pieces for The New Statesman and my work was subsequently featured on BBC Sounds.
These experiences were incredibly validating, but despite breaking through some socio-economic barriers, the financial strain remains a constant concern. There is no safety net, no cushion to fall back on and no firm ground to stand on in an unstable and ever-changing industry.
Currently, I’m part of the Doha Film Institute’s Hezayah Screenwriting Lab 2024 cohort. It is a significant opportunity, but one I’m acutely aware I wouldn’t have been able to access without the financial support the British Council offered me. Their assistance has been crucial in overcoming the barriers that often separate working-class creatives from such opportunities.
After months of hardship due to the film and television industry's current challenges, I’ve recently secured two new post-supervision projects, which feel like a lifeline.They’ve offered me a glimmer of hope in what has been a difficult year. For many working-class creatives, the path to success is paved with grit, determination, and perhaps a touch of anger.
Despite it all, I continue to dream of one day becoming a full-time writer and director, where side incomes are no longer necessary. Right now, it feels like a distant goal, but it’s something I hold on to, believing that with perseverance and the right opportunities, it will one day become a reality.