The Heart of the Story: Why SHIPS?

I’m making SHIPS because I’ve lived in the space between identities—racially, culturally, emotionally—and I know what it means to come home to a place that never truly felt like home. This story was sparked, partly, by a real conversation with a former seafarer in a pub near the docks. He spoke like a man still adrift, even on dry land—carrying grief, rage, and guilt like cargo no one else could see.

That encounter stayed with me. It reminded me of people I’ve known, men, including myself, who couldn’t say “I’m hurting,” so they drank instead. Women who carried everyone else’s burdens but were never allowed to fall apart. Families stitched together by humour, history, and held-back tears. 

SHIPS comes from that emotional DNA. It’s about class. It’s about race. It’s about masculinity and how we bury pain in silence. But more than that—it’s about connection. About what happens when two damaged people try, against all odds, to build something that might just save them.

I’ve seen how addiction, shame, and fractured identity can eat through a person like rust through metal. I’ve also seen how humour, compassion, and one honest conversation at the right moment can be the difference between someone giving up or holding on.

This is a story for anyone who’s ever felt lost at sea. Who’s ever come home and not recognised the person in the mirror. Who’s ever tried to rebuild their life with shaky hands.

I believe stories like this matter—raw, working-class, complicated love stories. Stories that don’t flinch. Stories that don’t pity or preach but reflect. Because sometimes, just seeing yourself onstage—broken, brilliant, and still trying—is enough to make you believe you can survive too.