Interview with Abigail Hood
about the theatre play – Monster

by Louise Cannon –
Bookmarks and Stages

Welcome Abigail Hood to Bookmarks and Stages, thank you for your time. What has been created is an insightful interview as we delve into writing and performing a play with a full cast. We also delve deep into the play’s themes that deal with trauma and abuse, touch upon the research and a real case and self-care and more…
There are great photos to show you, a little about the play and then onto the interview itself and how you can go and see this gripping, challenging sounding play. There will also be post-show Q&A sessions with representatives from Advance on Thursday 2nd and Thursday 9th October at Seven Dials Theatre. Please see further details after the interview.

Set in Glasgow in 2006, and following a story spanning two decades, Monster follows Kayleigh ”°Kay”± Grey, a teenager prone to trouble whose fierce loyalty to her best friend Zoe often tips into dangerous retaliation. When a single act of violence shatters the lives of everyone around her, the play asks searching questions about culpability, rehabilitation and whether forgiveness is ever truly possible…
At its heart, Monster follows the devastating consequences of a violent act committed by 15-year-old Kayleigh Grey. Moving between the events that led up to the tragedy and her adult life, the play asks whether someone raised in violence is destined to repeat it – and whether true forgiveness or redemption can ever be found…

You are both playwright and performer of Monster, how does that feel to be able to have that much creative control and how does it feel to bring your play to life, when before, it was in your head and on a page?

It’s an exhilarating experience to be both playwright and performer of Monster. When I was writing, I would roleplay each character on my own—improvising their words and trying to get under their skin to understand their motivations and triggers. I always knew I would play Kay because I wanted to challenge myself, as both writer and actor, to make her as three-dimensional as possible—to explore someone capable of something terrible while still finding the humanity within.

As a performer, stepping into the world I created is both strange and wonderful. It started as a very solitary process—me with my laptop and research—and then suddenly you’re in a rehearsal room with a director, cast, and creative team who bring their own ideas and energy. The play stops belonging only to you and starts to take on a life of its own, which is the most thrilling part.

Performing and writing are two very different skill sets, what or who inspired you to both and do you ever find when you’re performing, that you do it differently from how you imagined when you first put your words down on a page?

My inspiration to become a performer came when I was nine years old and selected as one of the juvenile dancers in the annual professional pantomime at the Theatre Royal in Bury St Edmunds, my hometown. The whole process was glorious: Sunday dance calls, a week of intensive rehearsals in the theatre with the professionals before opening, and then eight weeks of daily performances—I was in heaven! We were only allowed to do one show a day, but I would gladly have done both. I loved everything about being in the theatre: the magic of the stage, the camaraderie of working together, and the joy of sharing the final performance with an audience. My mum still remembers how I could (and would) recite the entire pantomime, playing every role! Though I was a shy child in everyday life, on stage something else would take over.

I didn’t consciously decide to become a playwright, but I’ve always loved telling stories. It wasn’t until a period of ‘resting’ as an actor that I finally began to write. Still, I think the spark was lit much earlier, during one of my first professional acting jobs—playing Alice in the original production of Polly Stenham’s That Face at the Royal Court—when I witnessed the extraordinary impact a play can have. Seeing how it provoked conversations, challenged perspectives, and demanded urgent social reflection made me want to create work with that same power.

I’m also hugely inspired by the writing of Simon Stephens, Mike Bartlett, and Phoebe Waller-Bridge, who write with honesty and urgency about the world we live in now. For me, the impulse to write comes from a need to explore the “grey areas” of life—those complex, uncomfortable spaces that, when shared on stage, might help us understand each other a little better and, hopefully, nurture a more tolerant society.

This all said, I think I was always destined to become an actor and writer. A few weeks ago, I found some old schoolwork from when I was twelve: the task was to write an autobiography (an ambitious undertaking for twelve-year-olds!) and we’d been asked to brainstorm facts about ourselves. Under the ‘likes’ category, I had written: acting, dancing, and writing stories.

In terms of performing a role, it is often different from the way I imagined, as I am interacting with other actors who bring their own unique energy to their roles. They too are making choices and creating their version of the character, so the way a line hits you can make the response come out differently from the way you planned. Pre-conceived ideas often go out of the window once rehearsals begin.

Monster follows Kayleigh Grey, raised in an abusive household, hooks up with a bullied teenager who has a strong bond with her. How did you get inside the minds of such complex characters to make them realistic?

I did a great deal of research into abused children and children who had committed violent acts — reading biographies and autobiographies, newspaper articles, watching documentaries, listening to podcasts, and speaking to psychologists and criminologists. Research was just the starting point. After that, I tried to get inside my characters’ heads — finding out what made each of them tick: their fears, hopes, triggers, and complexities. To do this I did lots of character developing writing exercises and improvising dialogue with myself. In particular, I wanted Kayleigh to feel fully three-dimensional—to reveal her humanity and show she’s more than the violent act she committed.

What emotions did you experience when both acting and writing the part of Kayleigh Grey?

When I was writing Kayleigh, I felt a mix of sadness, empathy, and deep distress for the harm she caused and the fact that the worst part of her was allowed to prevail. I wanted to understand her fully—her fears, her hopes, the moments of light in her as well as the darkness—without excusing the harm she caused. She does something horrifying, but that doesn’t make her a bad person through and through. There are qualities in her that are recognisable, even likeable, and it was important to me that the audience could see that complexity.

When I play Kayleigh, those emotions become very immediate. I think about the many children I read about and researched who committed these kinds of acts—the people they were before, and the people those acts turned them into. You have to hold both sides in your head: the vulnerable child who made choices, and the consequences of those choices. I feel it is really important to show her both as a feral, abused teenager and then as a grown woman building a life but plagued by the guilt of her childhood crime. It’s emotionally intense, but it’s also what makes the role so fascinating to inhabit.

The play explores violence, trauma and forgiveness, which you say are urgent themes, why do you feel they are important themes to explore in a play?

I think they’re important because they’re so often talked about in headlines or statistics, but not always in a way that captures the human side. Violence, trauma, forgiveness — these are things that shape people’s lives in complicated, messy ways. They don’t fit neatly into boxes of right or wrong, good or bad. A play gives you the space to sit with all of that, to feel it rather than just read about it.

For me, theatre is about empathy. It’s one thing to know something happened; it’s another to be in the room with characters living through the consequences of it. Violence and trauma don’t just end when the event is over — they ripple outwards, shaping families, relationships, whole communities. And forgiveness, or the absence of it, is just as complex. People talk about forgiveness like it’s a single moment, a decision you make and then move on, but it isn’t like that. It can take years, or it might never come at all. I think a play can hold all those contradictions — the harm done, the grief, the anger, the humanity of everyone involved — in a way that feels real. These themes matter because they raise questions we don’t always have easy answers to, but I think they’re questions worth asking.

You drew upon some harrowing real-life cases, such as that of Mary Bell, what went through your mind as you studied her case and how did you choose what to depict in your play?

When I read about the case of Mary Bell, what struck me most wasn’t just the crime itself, but everything around it — the childhood leading up to it, the public reaction, the way the media talked about her. There’s the act, which is horrifying, but then there’s this whole story of neglect, violence, and missed chances to step in before things got so bad.

For the play, I didn’t want to retell any one real case. Instead, I wanted to capture the patterns I kept seeing across so many stories: children sometimes failed by the systems meant to protect them, the complexity of their inner lives, the tension between the harm they suffered and the harm they caused. It was less about the details of any single case and more about what those cases revealed about society, about responsibility, about what happens when intervention comes too late or not at all.

In Monster, Kayleigh isn’t Mary Bell or anyone else — she’s fictional — but she carries echoes of the things I read and watched: the loneliness, the anger, the tiny glimpses of hope alongside the devastation. I wanted to create a character who felt real, not a headline or a symbol, so the audience could see both the child who needed help and the person who did something terrible. Choosing what to depict was always about serving that balance — showing the roots of her actions without excusing them, and leaving space for the audience to sit with the complexity rather than be handed a simple answer.

In what seems like an era of “self-care”, did you take some time to digest what you were ultimately creating and how did you take time to separate yourself from the facts you were reading about and what you are depicting on stage?

I think when you’re writing about something this heavy, you have to find a way to carry it without letting it completely take over. Some of the real-life cases I read about stayed with me for days — the details, the families, the children involved. It was impossible not to feel the weight of it.

But I always reminded myself that what I was creating was fiction. It was inspired by real patterns and questions but Kayleigh and her story were my way of processing all of that in a creative space rather than retelling someone’s real-life pain. That helped me keep some distance.

I also gave myself breaks from the material when I needed them. Sometimes that just meant stepping away for a day or working on a different part of the script — something less intense — so I could come back to it with a clearer head. And I think the act of shaping it into a story, giving it structure and characters, was part of how I separated myself too. It stops being a list of facts and becomes something that can spark empathy, conversation, and understanding, rather than just adding to the horror.

What do you hope the audience will take away when they leave the theatre?

I would like audiences to leave the theatre understanding that things are rarely black and white. I hope they will warm to Kayleigh to begin with and then feel torn when they witness the devastation, and irreparable damage, she causes to the family of the child she kills. I hope the play prompts questions about society and encourages reflection on forgiveness and justice.

I also hope audiences think about how society treats vulnerable young people, and in particular young women, which I believe is an incredibly important issue. This is why the production is supporting and supported by Advance, a charity that helps women and girls who experience violence and abuse, which can in some cases lead to their being trapped in a cycle of abuse and criminality. Advance helps them break this cycle and regain control of their lives. As part of our work with this charity a number of young women will participate in workshops led by workshop leaders from Advance before watching the play. There will also be post-show Q&A sessions with representatives from Advance on Thursday 2nd and Thursday 9th October.

What’s next for you?

First, a holiday! After that, I’m looking forward to new projects. I’ve already written another play, so I’m excited to see where that might go, alongside other acting opportunities that come up.

Discover how to see Monster at Seven Dials Playhouse here: https://www.sevendialsplayhouse.co.uk/shows/monster

Where can people follow you on social media, if you have any accounts?

Veritas Theatre Company:

Facebook = Veritas Theatre Company

X = @VeritasTheatre1

Instagram = veritastheatreco1

Tik Tok = veritastheatreco

KEPOW! Theatre Company:

Facebook = Kepow TC

X = @KepowTheatre

Facebook = Abi Hood / Kevin Tomlinson

X = @AbiHood1 / @KevinxTomlinson

Instagram = abihood22 / kevintomlinsonuk

Monster is at the Seven Dials Playhouse until 18^th October. For tickets and more information, visit: https://www.sevendialsplayhouse.co.uk/shows/monster