Here is a sample of my writing. It bounces around style, genre, form, and other not-quite synonyms.

Morning Rituals

A complete piece of flash fiction. 2018

He stood on the crate to reach the basin. I stood behind him and we observed each other in the mirror. This younger me, stamped with my jaw line and the subtly bent nose of my mother’s folk. He’d grow into his shoulders sooner than I had, I hoped so at least. His red-blonde hair was his mother’s though, so were his slate grey eyes. I leaned over him and showed him the strange morning ritual of the fellowship he wanted to join.

I had him cup his small hands and dispensed a blob of expanding white foam onto his palms. Then the same into my left. I spread it across my face with small circles and he imitated me on his. My fingers could feel the short rough regrowth since my shave yesterday morning. His face was soft and fresh and would be for a very long time. But it wasn’t about the practicality, the need was for a ritual. My father had taught me to shave in the same way. Inducting me into the society of men. The first step down a strange path that had led me to boarding school, to drinking, to rugby, to the army, to the border and to this moment… being a father. It’s not a path I wanted my child to walk and I thought I’d been lucky, life has other plans though. I took up my own razor and gave him a toothless mimic – he didn’t need a blade to learn. Not yet.

We worked the razors across our faces, stripping off the foam and rinsing the implements in the basin of hot water. It was like peeling off a mask as we looked at ourselves with intent. At our exteriors. And it was done. Faces clean. I gave him a rough towel and his cheeks shone red.

“Go on, get dressed,” I said and the pride fled his face.

“It’s only til the end of term,” I said. “Then you’re at Andervale and you can wear what you like.”

He nodded and went to his room. I looked at myself in the mirror. I should have fought for him. But I couldn’t afford to, I told myself. Just get him into a new school where he could be happy and that would be it. My child would be fine, no matter where his path took him.

“OK, dad. I’m ready to go.”

He looked brave in the dress they made him wear to school. The dress I had made him wear for too long. He looked braver than me.

Dirty Words: The Lesson

The opening of a sketch from Dirty Words, winner of an Ovation Award at the National Arts Festival 2016.

There is the teacher, JEMMA, and the student, KIM.

KIM knocks.
Hi, I’m here for the – uh – class.
JEMMA stares at him.
Is – uh – this the right room?
You are late.
Uh – yes. Sorry. I’m here for the class. There was an advert. I got distracted.
You should have checked your cock.
You should have checked your clock… set an alarm.
Oh, sorry. I thought you said –
Alright. Why have you come here?
Uh… I – well, my fiance. Well, my girlfriend – she suggested – would like it if I…
Makes inarticulate gestures
She would like…
She wants me to… say things.
In bed.
Makes strange hand gesture
you know…
No I do not know.
I see exactly your problem. Uncertainty. You don’t want to say the wrong thing because you may offend. But in this orifice –
Don’t interupt me. In this office nothing is taboo. This is a place of learning, of making mistakes and being firmly corrected by a certified and licensed
professional. The art of erotic conversation is the balance of the base and revered – the poetic and the obscene – euphemism and dysphemism. Some times you need to say, “I’m going to bow down and worship the golden goddess at her lowest temple” and sometime you need to say “I’m going to give your dirty snatch a good dicking”. The art of erotic conversation is sometimes a dance, and sometimes a battle.
One must command language, imagery, you must have a big vocabulary.
How many words for ’penis’ do you know?
Penis… Cock, dick, willy, sausage, horn, piel, uh – dick… No I said that – sorry.
That’s it?
I am not exaggerating when I say there are an infinite number of words for the various human genitals. Meaning is fluid.

LEGACY! Of Death…

The opening of a Goon Show-style audio play. 2018

That was the smooth new wave electro punk classic sounds of The Flaming Yetis. Welcome back to our radio sho-
To our Podcast, because radio is not a thing anymore apparently. Anyway, welcome back to our show…
“The Hardcastle Files”
We last left our hairy heroine heartbroken and hurt at the conclusion of “The Case of Battery Not Included”. Where will her dogged pursuit of justice take her in this week’s episode: “Legacy! of DEATH”
The morning light prised my eyelids apart like the jaws of life. The sunbeam was laid out across my desk in precut slices courtesy of my office’s Venetian blinds. My hand was still gripping a bottle of Latvian cooking alcohol. I took a long pull, hit the bottom and kept on going. The door opened.
It was my protege. Frozen in place. I guess she’d never seen a woman in a green, leopard-print onesie before. Neither had I.
“What is it?” But before she could reply the answer sauntered into my office.
“Mith Hardcathtle.”
The guy had the face of a constipated mackerel. I could tell his type a mile off. A go-between, a fixer, a lawyer with a big retainer. He took it out and repeated himself.
“Ms Hardcastle. I’m Alan Norton and I require your services.”
I nodded. “Let’s get started”
FX puffing, rubber squeaking, twisting.
“Here. It’s a giraffe.”
“As a detective.”
“A giraffe would make a terrible detective.”
“I meant I require your services as a detective.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
FX ballon deflating.


Opening of a short play. 2016

THEO     Former lead actor on the B-grade sci-fi TV show Anti-Matter.
KARL     Strung out fan of Anti-Matter.

An elevator. THEO enters and hits the button for the ground floor. Checks his nice watch. Waits.
KARL hits the lift call and enters when it stops.
KARL clearly recognizes THEO, but only shyly nods as a polite fellow elevator user. THEO ignores him, checks his watch. KARL doesn’t seem deflated as the elevator continues its descent; he seems to be working up to saying something. As he is about to speak the elevator lurches, the lights go out, and both characters nearly fall.

Jesus wept!

What happened? What’s happening? The elevator stopped!

It stopped.

Emergency lights flicker on.

The lights are back! Thank God! Oh wow. Wow wow wow… I thought I was dead. Dead, dead, dead. That was close. Oh my heart. It’s racing. It’s like a race car. Here, feel.

Tries to take THEO’s hand.

Don’t touch me!

No, no, it’s ok, I just think you should feel my heart, it’s really something. Really, really incredible – I thought, really, like… Splat. That was going to be us. It’s pounding like crazy. It’s really… wooooooo.

THEO tries to hit the intercom.

Hello? Hello? We’re stuck. Hello?

No response.

No response?

THEO glares at KARL.

Yeah, so stuck, hey… better than the alternative. Better than plunging to our deaths. Plummeting downwards, sucked down by the lusty embrace of gravity’s bosom.


Plummeting downwards?

THEO checks his watch.

So we’re stuck hey? I guess you’re not getting to wherever it is you’re going.
Me neither.
I’m KARL by the way. KARL Le Roux. Two words. Le Roux.
R O U X.

THEO tries the button again.

Can someone get me out of here please? Hello?

They listen.

You have a very commanding voice, are you here as a speaker. Perhaps? There’s some kind of convention down the road. I noticed. Just in passing. I don’t really know what’s going on. So are you? Here for that?

I am.

Well. That explains it.

It does.

The voice I mean.


Hey… isn’t that actor going to be there? That famous actor? I’m KARL, by the way.

You said.

Oh. Yup. I did.

Keep Your Quiztance

The Pub Quiz without the Pub

Writer, improviser, and geek Jon Keevy has hosted Let’s Get Quizzical for two years at The Courtyard Playhouse (formerly Alexander Bar). But all of a sudden he’s stuck at home with a stack of facts, a cupboard full of trivia, and no one to share it all with! (He tried quizzing his plants but they remained stoically silent – maybe they just don’t have any answers.) What’s a quizmaster to do? Go online obviously! Jon Keevy presents Keep Your Quiztance! the weekly quiz you can enjoy responsibly from the comfort of your home. Every Wednesday at 7pm he’ll be challenging audiences with tricky trivia and quirky questions.

KYQ Patreon Banner

How does it work?

Visit Twitch.tv/jonkeevy at 7pm on Wednesdays, the show will be streamed live.

That’s it? But how do I play?

That part is up to you. You can get a group together on a chat platform (like Zoom, or Google Hangouts, or even Whatsapp, Signal, Telegram, or Discord – whatever works for you). With your group assembled you can compete amongst yourselves, or play as a team. Just follow along and answer the questions!

But what about points? Prizes? Do I have to log in or register?

Keep track of your points and feel the pride of knowing things! There are no prizes, just an opportunity to spend some time playing a game with friends in the virtual company of a charming host. You don’t even have to register, unless you want to post messages in the chat.

Then how do I pay?

I am really glad you asked! Payment is by donation and there are a couple of different ways to go about it, the easiest if you’re a South African is donate via Snapscan, but there are other methods available and explained on Twitch.tv/JonKeevy. The suggested donation is R50, but times are tough so pay what you feel is fair. In fact knowing how tough things are, 20% of all donations will go to the bar staff of the Courtyard Playhouse who aren’t earning during the lockdown and need support.

More about Jon Keevy

Beyond hosting Let’s Get Quizzical, Jon Keevy is a writer who dabbles in a bit of everything. He’s written about a dozen plays (he’s bad at keeping track) from serious solo shows to raunchy sketch comedies, he’s done a handful of short films, and spent half-a-year writing a fantasy novel about rebels and sentient plants. Probably his highest achievement was writing the script for Free Live’s Genital Jousting… a game about a squishy penis searching for love and meaning. The story was even nominated for an international award. Weird. He does other things too but frankly this seems like enough for now, and you can always google him if you want more. Or go to his website: jonkeevy.com

Some quotes from the live show at the Courtyard Playhouse about how rad Quiz is:

“Just the right combination of tricky and creative questions, strict but just guidance from the quizmaster, and merry competitiveness between the teams. Always a treat.” – Johan

“The quiz is super fun, challenging and entertaining. The quiz master is hilarious and the atmosphere is great!” – Matthew

“Love the quizzes here. Nice crowd, great host with interesting questions and just the perfect blend of subject matter!” – Alastair

“I would give this 6 stars but it only lets me rate out of 5 :)” – Carla

“Really had an awesome time! Super tough questions, but had a good laugh through the bonus round” – Laura

San Francisco days, San Francisco Nights

GDC Jon at the IGF Awards 2019

This is me at the GDC award show in San Francisco, part of a team nominated for Best Narrative at the Independent Games Festival. How I came to be there is a story that goes back a few years and involves friendship, honesty and dick jokes. Evan Greenwood and Richard Pieterse had a weird and super fun game featuring squishy penises with little butt-holes that they called Genital Jousting. I’m not sure why they decided to put in a story (probably a joke or a punk whim) but they did and decided they needed a writer. They got me.

After that the mission and the team got bigger. Robbie Fraser joined the core. But it wasn’t getting bigger that made Genital Jousting something to be proud of… It was how much deeper it went. It was a process of challenging ourselves and our ideas of masculinity and what it means to have a dick. The meetings with Ev, Richard and Robbie where we discussed and shared were sometimes close to therapy… These three men have taught me a lot. About games, but really about being an empathetic and reflective person. I don’t want to spoil the ending, but that’s what Genital Jousting is about, and I think that’s what life is about.

We didn’t win the IGF award. But we still won.

Thank-you from the Underground

Soc Med FdC

Above all to my (now) wife Suzanne, thank you.

On the evening of Sunday the 18th of March 2018 The Underground Library won Best Theatre Production for Children and Young People at the annual Fleur du Cap Theatre Awards. I was told I accepted the award and made a speech, but all I can remember is how hard my legs trembled.

From reports it seems I stuck close enough to my notes. If you had seen them, you would have read one sentence writ large across everything: There are too many people to thank them all.

Here then is my attempt to rectify that.

Tara Notcutt announced the award and that was very appropriate – she was the person I first pitched the idea to 4 years ago in Grahamstown. Tara, thank you for encouraging me from the beginning.

I wrote the first draft in early 2015 for a radio play competition (I didn’t win). Thank you to the people who read and gave me feedback: Marc Kay (who did win), Jon Minster and Melissa Loudon (who called my hacking scene ‘vaguely plausible’).

From there the script was adapted and submitted to the African Youth Theatre and Dance Festival hosted by Artscape and Assitej SA. Thando Doni directed a staged reading with a group of students. Thank you for your time and for firing me up in the talk-back. That festival was the first time I met Victoria Gruenberg, an American intern who gave me thorough, insightful and challenging notes, and my introduction to the roll-up-your-sleeves-and-work attitude of US writers.

From that festival it was selected to be a part of New Visions / New Voices in the USA – an opportunity created by Assitej SA and the Kennedy Center in Washington DC. Most costs were covered but I still had to raise money for flights.

As part of fund-raising we hosted a reading of a new draft at Alexander Bar. Jason Potgieter directing Faniswa Yisa, Mvelisi Mvandaba, Callum Tilbury, Richard September, Sive Gubangxa, Maggie Gericke, Cleo Raatus. You can listen to that early draft here: alexanderbar.co.za/undergroundlibrary

Fundraising for New Visions / New Voices (NV/NV) was an outpouring of support from family, friends and peers. Thank you all so much: Ma and Pa, Helen and Fumi, Malc and Jill, Sarah and Simon. Sanjin Muftić, Jayne Batzofin, Carla Lever, Andrew Whiting, Jennifer Downs, Karl Haupt, Aleida Heyns, Sandy Jeffery, Fred and Joy Boerlage, Ann and Jannie Wiegman, Blythe Linger, Melissa Loudon, Gaëtan Schmid, Helen Moffett, Wenda Redfern, Natasha Norman, Simon Cooper, Teri Davidoff, and Suzanne Duncan – who 2 years later is my fiance and my wonder every day.

(I may have missed donors, not every deposit had a decipherable code. Please let me know if you’ve been skipped.)

That got me to America for the first time in my life. The process was split into 2 parts, both rigorous examinations of the script. I lost track of how many drafts I was on by the end of it. I need to thank the fellow writers I went on the journey with: Vinati Makijany, Deepika Arwind, Sunil Bannur and my South African peers Tamara Guhrs, Lereko Rex Mfono, Mojalefa Samson Mlambo, and Koleka Putuma – whose talent as a poet and theatre-maker I am in awe of.

The experience was made possible Assitej SA, the Kennedy Center, The University of Maryland. Thank you people n all the organisations who made it possible: The leaders, the administrators, and the directors, dramaturgs and actors who gave notes, perspectives and their voices to bring the plays to life. Thank you Kim Peter Kovac, Patrick Crowley, Moriamo Akibu, Jeffrey Kaplan Lew Feem, Justin Weaks, Teresa Fisher, Karin Serres, Scot Reese, Meg Lowey, Faedra Carpenter, Deirdre Lavrakas and more, more, more (I want to name *all* of you individually but I didn’t keep careful enough notes.)

Returning I applied for funding supported by Maggie, my fearless assistant in all things bureaucratic and tea-fuelled.

We received funding from The Department of Arts and Culture and everything was on track to put together a full production at ASSITEJ International’s World Congress in 2017 at the Artscape.

Koleke Putuma led the creative team as director. Merryn Carver designed and made the wonderful costumes. Philip Kramer built the steel set. Dylan Owen did sounds and score. A special thanks to Shen Tian, whose otherworldly command of LEDs gave us a unique lighting feature that pushed the play into the dystopian future (10/10). Dara Beth was a excellent stagemanger to herd the talented cast: Thando Mangcu, Tankiso Mamabolo, Kathleen Stephens and Dustin Beck joining Maggie and Cleo from the first reading.

And the audiences who came to watch. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

So much of this process has been made possible by Assitej South Africa. Yvette Hardie and her team (special shout out to Yusrah Bardien and Jaqueline Dommisse) have built up theatre for young audience in this country and made a mark globally. Through their opportunities I have visited Rwanda, Sweden, Austria, India and the US. I have made new friends, found inspiring collaborators and insightful peers. I have been supported in the creation of new works – some of which continue to generate income for me.

It is in recognising how much I have gotten from Assitej SA that I pledge the prize money to them. I believe that we need organisations that grow and develop new writers, directors and performers. We need more theatre because theatre can change lives. It has mine.

Thank you for reading.