Firstly, the piece, which is being prepared for performance, has been renamed to "An Ordinary Rendition".
When I began writing An Ordinary Rendition my original intentions were quite different to what was finally realised. Two motivations were at the forefront of my mind. The first was inspired by a lecture I had attended in which Antje Diedrich had discussed feminism in theatre, and that how, (most notably in pre-Post Modernist writing) principal characters were predominately male and indeed, most writers were male! The second key inspiration was that I had become fascinated by the images which had been flashed across our news screens of Guantanamo Bay detainees, and at how iconic their orange prison wear had become. The very image, of “unlawful combatants” shackled, hooded and jump-suited has become synonymous with the War on Terror which continues to be waged today.
Initially, my idea was to create a piece of pro-feminist writing in which two distinct voices are heard – the feminine and masculine of Simone and David. I was aware that one of the major criticisms of feminism being so poorly represented in the theatre was that when it was, it was by conduit of a male writer assuming a feminist knowledge and therefore it was misrepresentative by default! As a writer I had to consider whether my representation of Simone was accurate, in terms of her motivations and dialogue. In some ways though she is nothing more than a theatrical device used to symbolise the largely anonymous “Other Government Agencies” which pervade the Iraqi theatre of war, as much as she is based on the events which surrounded Corporal Lynndie England in 2003. One criticism could be that we know very little of Simone whilst we know much of David’s background. This was intentional, to portray her as the mysterious perpetrator of the abuse delivered against David, but is also emblematic of the fact that I didn’t know if I had found a convincing female voice, beyond a stereotype, for her. However, it was only by attempting to consider the challenge of writing such a piece that the play was realised at all.It was a conscious decision to keep the opening half of the play as mundane as possible, allowing the dialogue to shape the relationship which is forming between the two characters, whilst action is minimal. This was to allow the suspense to build in the spaces between the words, and awkward pauses, à la Pinter, so that when something does happen, it has a visual impact that awakens the senses. Somehow the bright flame orange overall had to possess the otherwise sterile space in a way that has immediacy to it without appearing totally contrived, with enough clues scatter
ed about the dialogue to enable the audience to make a connection between that image and the sub-text. If the first “half” remains enigmatic then the “reveal” should be obvious in the second, although there still remains a risk that it will be interpreted superficially as a piece only about feminist power and control, than one with a political overtone.
When I began writing An Ordinary Rendition my original intentions were quite different to what was finally realised. Two motivations were at the forefront of my mind. The first was inspired by a lecture I had attended in which Antje Diedrich had discussed feminism in theatre, and that how, (most notably in pre-Post Modernist writing) principal characters were predominately male and indeed, most writers were male! The second key inspiration was that I had become fascinated by the images which had been flashed across our news screens of Guantanamo Bay detainees, and at how iconic their orange prison wear had become. The very image, of “unlawful combatants” shackled, hooded and jump-suited has become synonymous with the War on Terror which continues to be waged today.
Initially, my idea was to create a piece of pro-feminist writing in which two distinct voices are heard – the feminine and masculine of Simone and David. I was aware that one of the major criticisms of feminism being so poorly represented in the theatre was that when it was, it was by conduit of a male writer assuming a feminist knowledge and therefore it was misrepresentative by default! As a writer I had to consider whether my representation of Simone was accurate, in terms of her motivations and dialogue. In some ways though she is nothing more than a theatrical device used to symbolise the largely anonymous “Other Government Agencies” which pervade the Iraqi theatre of war, as much as she is based on the events which surrounded Corporal Lynndie England in 2003. One criticism could be that we know very little of Simone whilst we know much of David’s background. This was intentional, to portray her as the mysterious perpetrator of the abuse delivered against David, but is also emblematic of the fact that I didn’t know if I had found a convincing female voice, beyond a stereotype, for her. However, it was only by attempting to consider the challenge of writing such a piece that the play was realised at all.It was a conscious decision to keep the opening half of the play as mundane as possible, allowing the dialogue to shape the relationship which is forming between the two characters, whilst action is minimal. This was to allow the suspense to build in the spaces between the words, and awkward pauses, à la Pinter, so that when something does happen, it has a visual impact that awakens the senses. Somehow the bright flame orange overall had to possess the otherwise sterile space in a way that has immediacy to it without appearing totally contrived, with enough clues scatter
ed about the dialogue to enable the audience to make a connection between that image and the sub-text. If the first “half” remains enigmatic then the “reveal” should be obvious in the second, although there still remains a risk that it will be interpreted superficially as a piece only about feminist power and control, than one with a political overtone. 
