One encounter changed Molly’s career trajectory – imploring her to create the Scottish Graduate Showcase and help fix ladders into the theatre industry she once struggled to climb.
Picture this: you’ve just graduated drama school. You have no real-life skills, a collection of animal studies that nobody asked for, and an unwavering belief that you’ll be different. You’ll be amongst the small percent that actually makes it.
That was me in 2023. I graduated from the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire determined to build a career in Scottish theatre. Despite training down south, I naively assumed coming home would be straightforward. Aye, right.
“Where did you train?”
“Royal Birmingham Conservatoire.”
“Oh… so not the RCS?”
Returning to Glasgow after graduation felt strange. I was back living with my parents, juggling part-time work, desperately trying to convince people that I was employable while simultaneously wondering whether I actually was. Every email felt monumental. Every networking coffee felt like an audition. Every opportunity seemed hidden behind a door I didn’t know how to open.
It’s true what they say: that determination can get you so far. I begged, borrowed, and stole my way through friends of friends and industry connections, making my emails seem as professional as possible whilst at the same time my Grammarly subscription ate up the last £10.23 in my account. I needed people, generosity and someone deciding to answer my endless emails.
Eventually, someone did. The next day, on the top floor of Princess Square, between the grannies having tea and wee guys who’d just finished school, you’d spot myself and the notorious Eilidh Loan chatting. Looking back, it was one of those conversations that potentially changes the direction of your life.
I don’t have a big enough word count to begin praising the work that Eilidh makes. But she was one of the first people I met in this industry, and she spoke to me on this day about this elusive industry ladder, and she promised to keep heaving people up it as long as she could; in return, us wee guys she helped up a rung or two – must do the same. This idea has never left me.
A few months later, I founded the Scottish Graduate Showcase. The project was born from necessity. I wasn’t trying to build an organisation or create a legacy. I was trying to solve a problem that I was living through in real time. There was a plethora of talented Scottish graduates, both here in Scotland – unrecognised- or returning home from drama schools further afield in the rest of the UK. All of whom lacked a bridge into the professional industry. They needed a way to be seen.
Images from The Scottish Graduate Showcase photographed by Hugo Hemmati
So I emailed people. A lot of people. I asked questions. I asked for advice. I asked for favours. To my surprise, people kept saying yes.
Since then, the Scottish Graduate Showcase has supported dozens of emerging performers, worked alongside leading Scottish theatres, and collaborated with remarkable directors and creatives such as Finn Den Hertog, Spotlight, Creative Scotland and Citizens Theatre. Every success the graduate scheme has had belongs as much to those individuals and organisations who support emerging artists as it does to me. They opened their doors. They gave their time, free space and asked for nothing in return. Ultimately, the people who actually shaped the industry shared the belief that early-career artists were worth investing in.
Over the past three years, I have grown further and further from that naive graduate, with stage and screen credits under my belt and a plethora of Scottish contacts, and I’ve had the privilege of watching the same happen to the graduates of the SGS: secure representation, find collaborators, book work, and build careers. More importantly, I’ve witnessed people find community.
Because that is often what we, the artists, need. Community. Feeling like our sector actually wants us here. The transition from training to industry can be (and is) brutal. One day you’re surrounded by peers, tutors and structure. The next you’re staring at your mail app wondering, ‘Is this really it?’ For many graduates, this feeling can be incredibly isolating. The SGS didn’t solve that problem entirely. Nothing can. But it did create a space where people felt seen and held.
Recently, Creative Scotland declined our latest funding application. But rejection has a funny way of forcing reflection. It’s made me think about how much both myself and the landscape have changed since 2023. There are now more platforms, more initiatives, more scratch nights and more opportunities than ever being created by artists for artists. And that’s a good thing. Right?
It raises an interesting question: why are we making these spaces? Are we genuinely creating opportunities for people who need them? Are we actually opening doors? Are we fairly redistributing access? Or are we sometimes building platforms that serve ourselves as much as they serve others? Making our shiny, egoless Spotlight and Instagram bios look great.
I don’t ask these questions from a place of cynicism. I ask it because I now occupy a strange position. I’m no longer the graduate desperately looking for a way in. Yet I’m still trying to create spaces for people who are.
The industry remains unpredictable, underfunded, and constantly shifting beneath our feet. What works one year may disappear the next. Funding comes and goes. Opportunities emerge and vanish. Careers zigzag in ways none of us can predict.
But one thing has remained remarkably consistent throughout my experience of this industry: people helping people. The most meaningful opportunities I’ve received have come from somebody making a recommendation. Somebody forwarding an email. Somebody introducing me to the right person at the right time.
Giving someone a hand up doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. It can be offering someone a day in the rehearsal room. It can be re-sharing an opportunity. It can be recommending a collaborator. It can even be helping a pal tape another self-tape when they’ve somehow landed their fifth audition of the month, and you’re trying very hard not to be bitter about it.
Because one day, when you’re hanging on by your fingertips, wondering what the point of any of this mad industry is, there’s a good chance a hand will appear from somewhere above.
And that hand could belong to someone who remembers you gave them a boost on the way up.
Molly is an actor, producer, budding writer and yoga teacher from Glasgow’s Southside.
She has trained at Oxford School of Drama, Guildford School of Acting and graduated with her BA in Acting from The Royal Birmingham Conservatoire in 2023.Her credits span both stage and screen, notably Blood of My Blood in 2025.
Molly has a particular passion for voiceover work—from animation to audio dramas, there’s a chance you could hear her on CBeebies from time to time.
Since graduating, she has continued her practice as an actor with Telos Theatre with Tom McClane, Oddity Ensemble with Jen Kelly & is eternally grateful to her agent Emily at Narrow Road for supporting her through the dark times.
In 2023, she founded The Scottish Graduate Showcase: a scheme designed to help drama graduates transition into the professional world without having a full existential crisis.
She is deeply proud of the communities she’s building and the work she’s creating and hopes to conitnue to do so for years to come.
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