I landed in Edinburgh with my director and jumped straight into a press event—no time to breathe, just straight into Fringe life. I saw our flyers for the first time, met fellow artists, and found myself explaining Letters to Joan to someone who had never heard of it. I kept telling the story – about my grandmother Joan, the letters I found from the 1950s, and how those intimate, unfinished love letters became the heart of a play about memory, family, and the things left unsaid. With each retelling, the story became more real… and also more surreal. This thing that lived in my heart was suddenly out in the world.
And then the world started speaking back.
One night, a woman told me her grandmother – also named Joan – had passed away just the week before. She said she was going to write a letter to her mom that night. Another night, someone shared that they’d recently discovered hundreds of their father’s WWII love letters – and now we’re planning a walk through Richmond Park together.
Each day, something happens that cracks the show wide open again: a familiar face, a stranger’s story, a postcard that becomes a letter someone needs to write. I’m tired, inspired, overwhelmed, and already changed.
I’ve been running every morning since I arrived, something I’ve done for years to re-center. On the first day, as I ran around Arthur’s Seat, I remembered running here back in 2022, slipping away from a packed day of amazing shows to catch my breath. I’d been dreaming then of performing here one day.
And now… I’m here. With a show of my own.
I hope my grandma would be proud.
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Read all of Samanthas’s guest blog articles here.
