Following an extensive acting career across theatre, film, and television, the artist celebrates her playwriting debut with this solo piece exploring limerence through horror, real-life experiences, and folklore. Guillermo Nazara chats with the creative and performer to learn more about show’s development and how it will intoxicate audiences.
How does it feel to have your debut play finally opening?
It feels surreal, like I’ve been carrying this story in my body for years and now it finally gets to breathe in a room with other people. It’s scary, exhilarating, vulnerable — all of it. There’s this feeling of “Oh, you’re all going to see the inside of someone’s head now, okay then.” But mostly, it feels like a huge exhale.
How did the idea for the show come about?
It really began with conversations. I was talking to women, friends, colleagues, sometimes even strangers who ended up telling me very intimate things, about their own love obsessions, and linking all this to Limerence and OCD, both my own experiences and friends. I like messy stories. The stories where you know someone isn’t good for you but you can’t stop circling back. I became fascinated by how similar peoples stories were, even when the details changed. There was this quiet universal language of fixation, the checking, the replaying, the spiralling, the shame, the humour that covers it. LOOP was sparked by wanting to honour these stories, to take them seriously, and to give theatrical shape to emotions we often hide. It was built from a chorus of women who trusted me with their truths, and LOOP is my attempt to weave those voices into one story that says you’re not alone, and you’re not mad, you’re human.

Would you say the show serves as a comment on modern dating, where true romance is frequently replaced by short term infatuation?
Definitely, though not in a preachy way. We’re all spinning, searching, projecting. It’s so easy now to confuse intensity with intimacy, to mistake the spark or the hit of obsession for something meaningful. LOOP looks at that head on.
What do you think makes people behave this way?
Some of us are lonely, and we are beings that are made for connection, but often we’re terrified of the real thing because it means being seen. Infatuation for some people feels safer because you can control the fantasy. Real love doesn’t give you that control, so we chase the quick high instead, even when it wrecks us.
Have you explored any other themes through this narrative?
Yes, obsession, compulsion, childhood wounds, inherited stories, queerness, friendship, grief, and the shame of wanting too much.

What made you choose horror as one of the genres to tell this story?
Because obsession is horror. When your mind loops and you can’t stop going back to someone who isn’t good for you, it’s terrifying. Horror lets me show what that feels like from the inside, to give shape and texture to the internal dread. Also fantasy and myths allow me to use metaphor to say the unsayable at times! It’s fun!
The play uses both your own and others’ personal experiences as its source material. What has the process of collecting and shaping them been like?
Tender, messy, and cathartic. I listened to women, revisited my own memories, and let all those voices merge into Rebecca’s. Nothing is taken literally, it’s more like everything was poured into a pot and the play is whatever simmered over. It’s emotionally true, even when it’s theatrically heightened.
Have you faced any creative challenges during the development of the piece?
Time and money! Making theatre is not cheap and we have had to really be resourceful. We had a two- and half-week rehearsal period and I had a week to get 10,000 words in my brain!

What about the challenges of performing your own material?
The hardest part is separating my own vulnerability from the character’s. When you write it, you know where every bruise is. Performing it means revisiting those places honestly but safely, without emotionally harming yourself. It’s a delicate balance. Also I’m alone on the stage! I sometimes miss other people being with me in the space!
Has the writing of this piece given you a better understanding of the human condition?
Yes. It showed me how universal obsession is, even though it feels shameful when you’re in it. People repeat patterns not because they’re weak, but because something very old inside them is trying to heal. Compassion is the only path out of the loop. Also I have deeper insight into limerence, which I’m happy to say is being discussed more.

Does the play try to convey some sort of message?
Not a neat message, but an invitation, to look at the moments where you’ve lost yourself in someone and recognise the quiet power in choosing to return to yourself.
Why come see LOOP?
Because it’s raw, very funny, unsettling, and painfully relatable. It’s a love story, a horror story, and a coming-of-self story. It speaks to anyone who’s ever been stuck in a cycle they knew they had to break, and you’ll leave the theatre feeling something and hopefully seeing yourself a little more clearly.
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Production pictures credit to Zoë Birkbeck.
Loop plays at London’s Theatre503 until 29 November. Tickets are available on the following link.

