It is every stage director's dream to be given a new play to direct – to be instrumental in shaping the play, bringing the characters to life for the first time. So, being associated either as director or producer with eleven of Paul Slabolepszy's plays has enriched my directing career immeasurably and enabled me to be a first-hand observer of the development of one of the foremost South African playwrights of this generation.

I have a very clear recollection of the day Paul brought a thin manuscript around to my house and asked me if I would like to read and perhaps direct his new play. He mentioned in passing that he had submitted the work for the Amstel Playwright of the Year award, and that two of the three characters had been written for himself and Bill Flynn to perform. I remember that the raw, powerful three-hander had been impressive enough for me to call him back the same day to tell him that I had to direct it, and within a week we had dates booked at the Market Theatre. Saturday Night at the Palace won the Amstel Award and went on to create a whole new genre of South African theatre.

For three-and-a-half exhilarating weeks I experienced for the first time the magic of a rough script being transformed, at almost miraculous speed, into a play. It was a rare privilege to be the catalyst in a process that had the unique Flynn talent challenging and sparking that of the emergent writer. We watched a myriad ideas being transformed into new pages of script each day, to be tested and honed and thrown out and added to, and finally shaped into performance. We watched the ending change again and again as we assessed and reassessed the impact of each moment. And all too soon, we were confronted by our first audience.

Two events stand out in the short period during which Saturday Night at the Palace previewed.

Since the play was about bikers, we thought it a good idea to invite the Hell's Angels to a performance. Only one of that night's extraordinary audience to whom I spoke had ever been inside a theatre before. With some trepidation, I sat among the smoking, whistling, drinking leather jackets as the lights went down.