This week we asked arts workers to share how their livelihoods were being affected by the coronavirus. Since then, the UK government’s measures to give financial aid to the self-employed will help the sector – but many are still deeply concerned about the lack of work available in the coming months. Here are some of the nearly 150 stories we received. Thanks to everyone who got in touch.

Stephen Laughton, 38, playwright and TV writer

My play, One Jewish Boy, opened in the West End on 10 March – a huge step up for me. I had TV deals lined up, a movie deal on the cards, another play about to start in New York. The play managed to stay open for one week. It got us to press night, and much like its original fringe run, was a critical success – four and five stars, and that first week was packed out. It was the moment I’d been waiting for. But I knew what was coming – a moment I hoped I would cherish for ever was tinged with crushing defeat. It felt as if everything we had worked for – all the abuse (my play is about antisemitism and I was on the receiving end of a lot of it), all the hard work, the blood, joy, sweat and tears – just faded away. The next day it got worse: I didn’t quite take in the monumental loss of having every gig I had lined up, cancelled. In the short term, I’m pretty screwed, the financial loss from the cancellation of two plays, a TV and a film gig has hit the tens of thousands. That makes it sound as if I always earn at this level – I don’t and I haven’t. I’ve been working hand to mouth and now, when it looked as if I might finally be able to breathe, I don’t know when I’ll get paid again. I just need to find a way to keep my head above water.

The near-empty scene in front of Tate Modern in London this week. Photograph: Guy Bell/Rex/Shutterstock

Michael Heggett, 59, lighting engineer

My entire work calendar for 2020 went away in the three days from 16 March. I lost the Pet Shop Boys world tour and the Olympic Games, which amounts to nine months of solid work and around £60,000 gross turnover. I have no other work on my books until November, which is a UK tour with Tim Minchin – if it goes ahead. As venues are closed and also gatherings of people banned and film sets closed, I will not be able to earn a living for the foreseeable time. My business and livelihood are completely destroyed.

Matthew Reed, 40, comedian

I had a full diary of gigs, a full summer of festivals and various clubs around the country, then overnight nothing, wiping out every penny for the foreseeable. My agents, Getcomedy, have been brilliant, but there’s no work, so they, too, are in a terrible situation. I’m a compere and in demand – I play every major club on the circuit and have done for years. So to go from every weekend full and plenty of midweek gigs to zero has been terrifying. The fragility of my situation has y crept up on me, and it’s also shown how little people really care. At a comedy night, if you do well you’re told: “Well done”, back slapped, thanked for a good night. “Couldn’t do what you do mate. It takes balls.” Now my entire income has gone I’ve been told, “Well, you’re just a comedian!” and, “Get a proper job.” I’ve had “proper” jobs – I’ve worked very hard to be where I am and comedy is a job. I’ve travelled miles for 20-minute sets, and the pay has been the same since I started – our wages haven’t gone up with inflation. People assume we are on a fortune, which just isn’t true. I absolutely love being a comedian, and this has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me professionally. But apparently it’s not as valid as an office worker losing their “proper job”.

Anonymous, actor for 37 years

After a good five months in theatre and television and feeling as if I was turning a corner after a difficult period, I found the rug pulled from under my feet. Future work cancelled. Income owed not likely to be received. No hope of working in my career for many, many months to come. I am already writing this year off. My industry has been decimated and the aftermath will be catastrophic. I do not know how I will survive this with no savings behind me. I love my job, but I feel totally broken and my mental health is very, very fragile.

Denise Francis, 55, director of theatre education company Firehorse Productions

I had three actors on contract for a five-week tour in June and July – this has now been cancelled, as schools are shut. There may be a slight chance we can scramble a three-week tour for November, but it is the two autumn tours that sustain us throughout the year, and not being able to produce them jeopardises the future of Firehorse. Two years ago, I also established the charity Afan Arts, giving the opportunity to pupils from surrounding schools to work alongside professional actors and film crews. Our third project Same But Different, two years in the planning, was due to begin at the end of July, but this has had to be cancelled. The year 11 pupils were devastated, another thing they have missed out on. We invest in our actors, love to see them grow and flourish – now we will not see that this year. It has been like watching your world crumble.

Anonymous, 37, actor

On 16 March, a couple of hours before our cast were due on stage, we were told our show was cancelled that evening with immediate effect. Since then, it has become apparent that the production will not reopen anytime soon, and as yet we have no clarity on whether we will continue to be paid. My biggest fear is that our producer may be forced to use the force majeure clause in our contracts, allowing them to terminate our employment with immediate effect. Were that to happen, I would be left £40,000 out of pocket, that figure representing what I would have earned during the remainder of the show’s run.

An empty Shaftesbury Avenue in the heart of West End theatreland, London. Photograph: Frank Augstein/AP

Colette Meacher, writer, editor and lecturer

I’ve had mild symptoms of Covid-19, but as I effectively work on zero-hours contracts I’m not eligible for statutory sick pay. And, as it’s now the Easter break, my teaching hours are finished and my freelance editing and writing work has dried up, meaning that I don’t have a single commission or job on my desk. I’m stressed, sick and skint – but I’d still be working if I could as I urgently and desperately need some money for the mortgage, bills and, heck, even just to be able to go out and buy some food. It’s been nearly four weeks since I last got paid, and that was a grand total of £600 – pretty good by most months’ standards.

Mike Nichamin, 56, live audio systems engineer

All touring is off as venues have closed and large gatherings banned. I was on tour in Europe at the time with the show An Evening with Whitney Houston, a hologram tour. I have now applied to Tesco as a delivery driver for £9 an hour, which won’t even cover my expenses.

Bethany, 20, dancer

I’m supposed to be moving to Greece at the end of March for a seven-month contract, but obviously with no flights this has been postponed for the foreseeable. This is extremely distressing as for dancers a summer season can sometimes be their only income for the year. With so much uncertainty, I’m not sure if I will ever get there to complete the season, and in the meantime I’m stuck in the UK with no income.

Anonymous, 30, artist

As a self-employed artist, my work is piecemeal and precarious. I don’t have a fixed income and my earnings fluctuate month to month. I’m still in receipt of the ghostly working tax credits, which has been a lifeline in more difficult times but at £54 a week are not enough to live on. Occasionally I sell a work, pick up some teaching hours or am successful with a funding application. While the financial impact of Covid-19 is massive on those working in the arts, the impact of coronavirus goes beyond the loss of wages – it affects our visibility. Projects which have been in the pipeline for many months are put on hold, or no longer possible. Perhaps they lose their relevance as this global crisis escalates as it has. Galleries and cultural spaces rearrange their programmes, pushing an already competitive workforce into greater competition for places. This situation is complicated for us all, but without support, we risk a whole generation of artists slipping away.

David, 32, artist and gallery worker

Many artists work freelance as either an assistant to a more established artist, or as a technician/handler for museums and galleries. I fall in this latter group. I love the work – we do anything from packing up prints to building gallery walls or making bespoke elements of the exhibition. With museums and galleries closed until further notice, the workforce who build and hang the exhibitions are simply not required. The work is always seasonal, and so we have large chunks of work booked months ahead, knowing that we have a two- to three-month gap in work while the exhibition is open to the public. I’ve had a mixed response to coronavirus closures. One gallery has said that it will honour booked work and pay freelancers regardless of whether we are physically able to complete the job. This is absolutely wonderful and will help hugely. It is, however, an exception rather than the norm. Most galleries and museums have cancelled work – I’ve lost work equivalent to two and a half months’ pay, and from talking to friends, that seems quite light.

Jonny Byers, 39, cellist

I had a full diary of work, and every single concert until at least July has been cancelled or, at best, postponed. An entire tour of a Handel opera; a week of Beethoven symphonies; concerts at smaller venues such as the Wigmore Hall. A completely empty diary, which means £0 coming in. Many of the groups I perform for won’t have a large amount of financial reserves so are now walking an even thinner tightrope attempting to ride out this storm. I have bills, instrument insurance, not to mention food buying, and many other outgoings to attempt to cover with no idea how it’s all going to pan out. Sadly, everyone is in the same boat right now, but once orchestras are gone, they’re gone, and we’ll need music more than ever after this.

French opera tenor Stephane Senechal performs from his window in a locked-down Paris. Photograph: Philippe Lopez/AFP via Getty Images

Dan, 37, stage manager

One show was cancelled mid-run and we were told not to come in the next day. The following job, which was supposed to take me to July, was postponed until 2021. All income has stopped and with no help from the government so far, we have had to contact our landlords and bill providers to plead for a payment break. We will get to a point where we have to choose between paying bills and eating. There is no safety net. I am also in the unfortunate situation that I have a very sick relative in hospital which, added to the worry about no income and possible eviction, is having a huge detrimental effect on my mental health.

Anonymous, 30, freelance stage manager

So far, I have lost out on thousands. Last week, the tour that I was working on was cancelled after the government urged people not to go out. There were no compensation measures as all insurances were void when the WHO declared the virus a pandemic. The promoter took their fee back, tickets were refunded and the artist made a huge loss. All future bookings have been postponed too. A two-month project that I was meant to start on 1 April has been pushed back, but we don’t know when that will be rescheduled. Festivals have been cancelled. My next working day is currently 1 July, but that could also be postponed. That’s three and a half months of loss of earnings – and to add salt to my wounds, I’m due to get married overseas in September.

Clare, 51, self-employed art tutor

As a result of the current situation I closed the studio last week. Many of the artists who attend are over 70, and although the classes are small I can’t guarantee safety. I have set up a WhatsApp group to keep us all in touch with each other – we share experiences, jokes and thoughts as well as art-related articles. Today, I launched an online art class to which nearly 40 of the group have signed up. So far, it seems to be working despite my lack of techie knowledge – think Acorn Antiques level of production. I hope this will provide some income to tide me over until I can reopen the studio, and will keep the social element of the group together.

Anonymous, 45, community artist

I work full time in the community and all my work is on freelance contracts. In two days, every project I have got cancelled as they are all people-based. I have no income, no sick pay, and my work diary is a black hole. I am used to uncertainty and flexibility in my work, but now I feel totally baffled as to how I will get an income. I don’t know when or if these projects will ever be rescheduled, and I worry about some of the people I work with who depend on the social aspect of these arts projects – one project I worked on involves making artworks for a recovery garden, for people with addictions, and I worry about how they are coping alone. We will be needed to help restore community spirit when this crisis is over – arts are never valued by the government, yet people are surviving these hard times through creativity and resourcefulness.

Deserted … Outside the National Gallery this week. Photograph: Victoria Jones/PA

Peter, 44, freelance opera singer

The theatres are shut. I’m fortunate enough to have current extra chorus contracts honoured, but future ones are undecided. With schools, each one has its own safeguarding policy and setting up teaching from home is problematic – hours are down already. All of the concerts I’ve had lined up are postponed or cancelled, auditionstoo. Regular chorister work in synagogue has stopped and the church that I regularly sing at are paying up to June. My private teaching has stopped – even though it’s a few students, over time you really start to feel it. I’m losing more than half of my income, with projected expectations that the industry will suffer longer and there will be less work in the future. I will need to adapt and find other sources.

Gillian Garrity, 48, theatre producer

My business partner, Margaret-Anne O’Donnell, and I started our own producing company, Raw Material Arts, two years ago. We have worked in the theatre industry for more than 20 years each, touring theatre within the UK and across the world. A UK/Australian co-production that was due to tour to 12 venues across Scotland beginning next month has been cancelled; a tour to an arts festival in Egypt has been cancelled; an artist residency due to take place in Nepal has been cancelled; we have three mid/large scale co-productions with three Scottish venues now on hold; a New York transfer of a current production on hold. Our potential to earn income has frozen. We work with and employ directors, lighting designers, sound designers, actors, stage managers, costume designers and many more freelance artists. We have received support from Creative Scotland to pay our team for projects that have taken place and/or are already funded, but we cannot deliver. We have no means to rehearse or present any work, meaning we have no potential to earn income.

Anonymous, 39, stage manager

I don’t know anyone who’s still working, the entire industry has gone. The theatres all shut once Boris Johnson advised people not to go – there was no more work to do. I went to help clear the rehearsal room we had been using and that was that. I’ve worked since I was 17, I’ve never not had a job. I’ve always paid my taxes and I’ve used the benefits system once to cover a gap of five weeks between contracts back when I first moved to London in 2009. Now I don’t know what to do. My partner is in the same position and has lost a year’s work, as has my sister, as have most of my friends. We have a little bit of a buffer, probably enough to survive the next month or two, but beyond that things are pretty scary. I’m happy to do whatever I need – I’ve handed out CVs in supermarkets, filled out forms online, but so far no replies. I just think people see theatre on a CV and don’t know what to do with it, or assume you’ll be some kind of luvvie who moans about breaking a nail. The reality is we’re used to 16-hour days, 50-plus hour weeks, hard physical work, problem solving and team working, not to mention working under pressure to a deadline. After all, the show must go on.