On the 13th of October, I posted a review of _Macbeth_ at the Royal Shakespeare Company — a production that moved me deeply, starring Sam Heughan in a performance I will never see the same way again. I’d been sitting with that experience quietly for nearly a week, because it _deserved_ that kind of reflection. Reverence. Stillness. And then, suddenly, my blog blew up. In the span of 72 hours, I had more than 2,500 views. As I write this, the number continues to climb. That might not sound astronomical by influencer standards, but for me — someone who’s been blogging for nearly a decade with engagement that normally tops out around a few hundred a month — it was a _lot_. It was also completely disorienting. Not because I wasn’t proud of the post; I was. And I still am. But because the explosion didn’t happen because of one of my books. Or my historical essays. Or the posts I used to write back when I blogged every week with carefully crafted features and planned-out topics. No, this happened because I happened to write about a performance by a well-known actor. And then, because I dared to write a follow-up piece about _why photographing a live theatre performance is not okay_ , that gained even more traction. I went viral — not for my life’s work, but for being adjacent to someone else’s. * * * ### I Thought I’d Feel Better About It That’s the truth of it. These are the numbers bloggers dream of. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped _someday_ for that kind of visibility. But when it happened, I didn’t feel elated. I felt … off-kilter. Because this kind of success is supposed to come from _your_ work, right? Not from reflecting on someone else’s. I don’t want this to sound ungrateful. I am deeply, deeply grateful for the people who’ve shared my posts, who’ve read with open minds, who’ve responded with compassion and insight. I’m especially grateful to Sam Heughan — for the performance that inspired all this, and for his generosity at the stage door. But I’m also holding something heavier. * * * ### The Grief Underneath Almost two years ago, I lost a dear friend: someone who helped shape the entire trajectory of my life. His name was Keith. I met him when I was a young reporter and he was a re-enactor and archaeologist. We were involved for a time, but more than that, we were _friends_ for over thirty years. And he was the first person I would have called when something like this happened. He would’ve teased me, of course. Called me famous. Laughed in that dry, knowing way of his. And then he would’ve told me how proud he was. He always supported my writing. Always believed in what I was trying to say. His absence has been a quiet ache through all of this. One I didn’t expect to feel quite so sharply. But when your voice finally gets heard, and the person who _always_ listened is no longer there … it lands differently. * * * ### The Ethics of Witnessing I wrote the second blog post because I saw something troubling: audience members taking photos during the performance, _despite clear announcements not to do so_. I hesitated before writing it. I didn’t want to shame anyone. But I couldn’t stay silent either. Theatre is a sacred space. It’s one of the few communal experiences left in a fractured world. When someone disregards that—for the sake of a blurry photo or a few likes—they’re not just breaking a rule. They’re stealing from the performance. From the actors. From their fellow audience members. Sam gave us everything. Raw vulnerability, rage, grief, power. He _sobbed_ onstage, curled around Lady Macbeth during _Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow_ — a scene that devastated me. That changed the way I’ll see the role forever. And some people met that moment with a shutter click. That’s not fandom. That’s entitlement. * * * ### So What Now? I don’t have neat answers. I just know I needed to write this … to make sense of what I’m feeling. To say that _yes_ , I’m grateful. But also? I’m still processing. Still trying to reclaim the sacredness of an experience that got caught up in something bigger and louder than I ever expected. If you’ve been one of the people reading, thank you. If you’re staying, I hope you’ll explore more of my work: my fiction, my essays, the heart of what I do. And if you’re here because you love theatre the way I do — because something in _Macbeth_ cracked you open — then maybe we’ve definitely got something in common. Thanks for listening. More soon … on my terms. ### Share this: * Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook * Click to share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky * Click to share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon * Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest * Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr * Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window) Pocket * Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn * Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window) Telegram * Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) WhatsApp * Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window) Reddit * Click to share on Threads (Opens in new window) Threads * Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email * Click to print (Opens in new window) Print * Like Loading... ### _Related_

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