Phoebe Bourke: A Few Of My Favourite Things

Whether directing stand-up specials for Netflix, comedy pilots for Channel 4, or BAFTA-qualifying shorts, Phoebe Bourke is no stranger to a script... or a deadline.

Signed to Armoury, Bourke has carved a career from writing and directing stories that land laughs while keeping things grounded (even when the setting is rural Sicily).

Here, she talks wildflowers, artistic Resistance (with a capital R), and why a decent view might be the secret weapon in any writer’s arsenal.

The View

I’m writing this from a terrace in southern Sicily. 

I’ve got several script deadlines looming, and I realised I spent most of last year in London staring at my screen - when I could’ve been anywhere. 

I have no children, no mortgage, no pets, and my biggest responsibility is probably washing my hair. 

So, I decided to up sticks and take myself to a cheap Airbnb in Italy to write, instead of sitting in rainy London complaining about the weather, the price of coffee, and the general sense of doom.

I’m in the middle of nowhere, which means fewer distractions and even fewer opportunities to procrastinate - I can’t even pop out for an espresso or a cannoli. 

Writing anything, even this, is an emotional rollercoaster of self-loathing, so I figure I might as well make it as bearable as possible by having something decent to look at.

The Blossoming Creativity

When I realised people were actually going to pay me to be creative, it felt like a dream come true.

Writing, directing, making films - those were my hobbies. 

But once my hobby became my job, I suddenly realised… I had no hobbies. 

And apparently, going for dinner doesn’t count.

I’ve come to see how important it is to do creative things that are for no one - not for money, not for instant gratification, just because. 

I do believe that what you create should be for you anyway. But I also need to eat, so I have to sell it. And if all my creativity is up for sale… what’s left that’s just mine?

Rick Rubin puts this idea beautifully in his book, and honestly, if you can’t be arsed to read it, any podcast he’s on covers his whole belief system. Anyway—today I picked some wildflowers (also known as weeds) and made bouquets.

No reason, no audience. Just felt like it.

Seeing as I have no experience in floristry… I think I nailed it. 

As someone who lives for praise, the fact that I didn’t even post it on Instagram is a personal triumph.

The Stray Cats

As a woman living alone in rural Sicily, I need cats for protection. 

I think the Egyptians had the right ideas about cats; they are divine protectors and they ward off evil spirits. 

I always thought I was more of a dog person but dogs are too much responsibility and too desperate. 

I like how cats will take or leave you, I respect their independence. 

Anyway, I’ve been feeding the stray cats I’ve met in my Airbnbs and given them all names. 

I think they judge me when I am procrastinating and not doing my work so they’re actually really helpful to keep me focussed. 

Here is Tiffany and Thomas. 

I think you know who is who. 

The Book

The War of Art by Steven Pressfield is my go-to creative kick-up-the-arse book. 

Best thing about it? It’s really short. 

I’ve read a lot of books about creativity and art, and the best ones are the ones that get to the point, like this one.

I’ve never found another book that describes our avoidance of creative pursuits as clearly as this one does: as a force called Resistance that we have to fight in order to do the work we’re meant to do. 

The basic idea is that the biggest enemy of creativity isn’t lack of talent, it’s Resistance.

I’ve read this book many times, and I always re-read it when I’m being a brat about writing or any kind of creative work. 

It’s very easy to be a brat. 

It’s easy to dream about your ideas rather than actually make them happen - to float around in the warm bath of the dream version instead of wading through the steaming pile of shit that is the reality of a first draft. 

But you have to get the steaming pile of shit out first, because without that humiliating, messy stage, you can’t get to the good stuff. 

Everything starts out bad. That’s the point.