It’s the week before Christmas. The theatre is filled with festive joy – from the smiling audiences for It’s a Wonderful Life, to the sparkly decorations in the clubroom. But not far away, in the Studio, Christmas couldn’t be further from the minds of the cast and crew of A Monster Calls. We’re ‘staggering’ through (an early run-through with a lot of confusion and swearing) the whole of our play for the first time since starting rehearsals in October. And it’s tough – both the effort of sewing a hugely complicated set of scenes with movement together with naturalistic scenes, and the story itself.

I was very honest at the Directors Evening back in May – A Monster Calls is not a happy story. You may have read it, seen the film, or the original production – if so, you’ll already know why. But it’s a beautiful story, filled with sorrow, grief and a lot of hope. And we – the cast, crew, creatives and I – know how powerful, moving and life-affirming it will be. We’ve been through a lot of emotions so far in the rehearsal room. There’ve been tears, yes. But we’ve also laughed. A lot, actually. Because there is light and laughter in this story too. And because most of us (especially me) are quite silly, given a quarter of a chance.

It’s been 17 years since I directed my last play – Cleo, Camping, Emmanuelle and Dick here at the Barn in 2007. I discovered my love of theatre and storytelling here at the Barn, well over 30 years ago in the Youth Group (which I then went on to lead 20 years ago). I knew A Monster Calls would be challenging. But I also thought that as I’d been directing TV during the last decade or so, I’d know what I’d be doing. I couldn’t have been more wrong. In TV, you concentrate on one little portion of story at a time (you’re thinking about the whole too, of course, but it’s a different headspace to this), layering it up, experimenting if there’s time (which there often isn’t), and aim to get a few goes of a good version on tape before the producer is shouting at you to get on to the next scene. I’d forgotten how different it was in theatre. The process, the approach, the language, the scale. I’ll be honest when I say it’s been a mountain to climb. I can’t see the top yet, but I saw a sign for it a while back, so I think I’m going in the right direction.

And I’m not alone. Far from it. We have the most incredible team working on this show. A talented, hard-working cast of familiar and new faces, all of whom I’m in complete awe of. Fantastic creatives and crew – too many to mention here, but I’m certain A Monster Calls will look and sound extraordinary, with its costume, set, lighting, and specially-composed soundtrack. And I decided a long time ago to break with tradition and borrow something from TV – we have a producer, George Curry, who’s holding the entire production together.

I have a very deep and personal connection with this story (actually, many of us in the company do). And although I’m sure that explains why this play captivates me in the way it does, I do think its message is a universal one: Bad things happen. Sometimes things don’t work out. But you will get through them. And while you might not ever get fully over it, there will be brighter times again. Sometimes things have to break in order to grow back stronger. You will survive, just as everyone you ever meet has survived everything they’ve ever been through.

When I go to the theatre, I want to be moved – to laughter, joy, anger, tears. All, if possible. A Monster Calls has the power to move an audience to all of those. I honestly think the emotion and power of it might shake the Barn from its foundations. Whether you know this story or not, I promise you that it contains something that most of us have had to face at some point in our lives. It’s a powerful, magical play about love, loss and hope. And I hope you’ll come to see it.