"Playmaker" is the name I chose to describe my trade, oh… many years ago. It covers my writing of my own plays, my directing and designing of other people's plays, the teaching of all aspects of Theatre and all of the more practical jobs that I was glad to undertake for anyone with enough guts to put on a show. I have become angry with untutored buffoons who have pigeon-holed my unquestioning love for Theatre with condescensions like, "So, your hobby is amitcher dramatics?" (Stifle reflexive throat gaggings as I think of fees commanded, yet delight taken many times in working for nothing except the joy of being part of a team that has high ideals) . Theatre, for me, has been a lifelong passion and I know only one standard at which to aim.

On occasion, there have been approaches from groups that either misunderstood or distrusted my lust for perfection. They assumed that I would lower my standards in order to accommodate their contempt or laziness. They were wrong. Once, when tempted to accept a fee from a group that represented an impossible challenge, I was advised as follows by a trusted friend: "Now listen… bad amateur theatre is an art-form in its own right, with which you have no duty to interfere."

In 1986, required to compile a Theatre CV, I managed something like one with great difficulty and a lot of help from The First Mate, who has been my companion and helpmate since not long after my training. We rummaged through the archives until that curriculum vitae consisted of 91 entries and we were still remembering more productions. The vast majority of those entries had me as Director and/or Designer. That was nineteen years ago and…

…and I tried to retire from directing about five years ago. Little did I know that the old bod was about to rebel against decades of misuse by giving me a major stroke. Luckily, before that happened, I had retrieved the draft of my book about putting on plays on the cheap (but good), under the working title of "Shoestring Theatre". The project had been dumped when publishers' typists tried to bend it into political correctness.

The big stroke happened on the day following my last trawl through the much-reduced draft of the book that I really wanted to write. I had learned so many lessons from so many productions - especially from the dozens of mistakes I made every time - and had developed such trustworthy "systems" that I felt a need to write it all down. I wrote the book that I would have given my eye-teeth to secretly possess when I was a young director, finding my way through all the complexity. I wrote the book that any new director could use like a secret helpmate.

I called the book "Playmaker" and put it on sale at £10 per copy. Originally, it was my intention to have 1,000 copies printed, but the printer convinced me to halve this because we have nowhere to store that many. The first print was of 500 copies and this was just as well because (a) the stroke happened on the day following completion of that last edit, and (b) several weeks passed before my eyes cleared enough for me to spot that the printer had printed the wrong version. About 200 copies had gone out containing numerous typographic/computed errors and at least one major change made on my solicitor's advice. And the index was out of sync with the contents. Amazingly, nobody else seemed to have noticed the mistakes.

And the book-reviews had been… spectacularly brilliant. I had never seen ANY book praised so unreservedly… glowingly!
The reprint was for a thousand copies.

Several weeks ago, when no new orders had come in for several months, we checked our remaining stocks and found that we were left with about one hundred copies from the 1,500 that were printed. On checking, my worst fears were confirmed - that we had sold all the perfect copies and inadvertently strayed into those from the first batch, the decidedly imperfect ones.

However…

To my delight, many readers had got in touch with requests for opinions and advice. Some of them I guided all the way through their first productions. This was especially pleasing because my condition has deteriorated so much, and I am so dependant on cocktails of prescribed drugs, that whenever I relax in warm comfort I go to sleep. 'Normal' people regard this as abnormal, but it happens. It means, sadly, that I cannot attend performances in Theatre. How satisfying it is, therefore, to be able to help hard-working people to find their way in Theatre.

One of my favourite correspondents, who I'm sure would prefer to remain anonymous, recently confided the sad news that her theatre building had been burgled and a range of electronic equipment had been stolen. This was especially distressing because I know how hard and how long she and her friends have worked to build up their capability and following.

O.K., this is where you come in (I hope). I have those copies of the original "Playmaker" occupying cupboard space in our small apartment, when demand for the book - at its original price of £10 - seems to have finished. If you send a fiver (a £5 note) to Rod O.West, 7 Chapman Court, Bridge Street, Warwick, England CV34 5PH, I will deduct the postage (about 80p), send you your copy until they have all gone, and collect the balance into a fighting fund that we will send to our friends who have been burglarised and bereft of their equipment. This won't pay for everything they lost, but it will at least make them feel better.

Just a little glow in closing. Recently, the following message arrived from someone (in fact, someone who had retired from a long career in a valued profession before having time to direct her first production) whom I had revelled in helping:

"Dear Roddo, I should have written to you earlier, but since the production of…" (details of her second production and all the awards it won in a prestigious festive). "The production was a very happy one; we all melded beautifully as a team, with lots of affection and working together (and that gave me the greatest pleasure of all), and we had wonderful opportunities with this play of working out characterisation etc.. I still kept referring to your book throughout - thank you! Much love…"

Can you imagine how happy that made me feel?

God bless you all.

FOOTNOTE: please pardon me for slipping in another personal plug, but, during the past week, I've completed my first non-collaborative play since the stroke. It's a sequence of four short plays to be performed in a single setting by two men and two women, all of whom can really act. I guess it fits well into what I've started to call my Cochonerie Cycle, in which I try to identify the downfall of men (so It includes some cussing). If you want to see a copy with a view to production, just let me know.

Jonah was a very experience director, teacher and writer who sadly passed away in February 2006. He was also the author of the highly successful "Playmaker - The Craft of Directing Plays (The Way I Seen It)".