For Playwrights (on behalf of Playwrights, Producers, and Your Play)

Fellow Playwrights! Let's consider how a theatre can benefit your new play. Because, after reading hundreds (if not thousands) of new play submissions to theatres, I have noticed something that most of those submissions have in common. Can you guess what it is? Of course you can, because you are a highly-intelligent and well-informed writer for the stage: most of the plays being submitted to theatres are not ready for a theatre.

I believe the reason why a sea of first drafts is crashing against the walls of theatres anyway is because, a lot (A LOT) of writers don't have a strong understanding of what work belongs to playwrights, and what work belongs to productions. Here's why I believe that:

First, anecdotally, if (being writers) they haven't worked in a theatre... how would they know how the theatre works. Plenty of people who do work in the theatre don't know how the whole theatre works... And if you do already know how theatres work, the rest of this read may be no news to you.

But I feel like this information is going to be useful to a fair few people (at least I hope it's useful) because I asked hundreds of playwrights (with plays across the full spectrum readiness; some under serious consideration, others less so, I asked them all) why did they decide to submit their play to a theatre? What was it they most hoped to achieve? A workshop? A reading? A formal production? Professional feedback?

And this is what most playwrights (overwhelmingly) responded: I want a full production! I've got this draft finished, and now what I need is actors and a director to help me see what comes next.

Aha... But that's NOT the theatre's job. For so many reasons...

Let's set aside the fact that yes of course we all want our plays produced, and yes, we're right to throw our hats in the ring. For now, let's just consider how much work we're asking a theatre to do...and what most theatres and theatre artists can and can't do:

1. Actors and Directors aren't playwrights. What do you think they're going to tell you? What are they supposed to illuminate for you? If you don't think certain actors are going to offer you suggestions along the lines of "make my part bigger," you're fooling yourself. Yes, actors and directors will also ask good questions. Yes, actors and directors will draw your attention to any blind spots that exist in your script. And yes, table-work with artists is invaluable if not necessary at the latest stages of your process, but they still won't be writing the play with or for you. You are the playwright. It's your job to write the play.
   

2. Theatres aren't made out of money. Amazing as it seems, a business model that requires you to bring together a group of highly-skilled artists (and pay them), and which cannot scale its revenue beyond the capacity of their theatre seating (and donations), such a business model is a bespoke, expensive endeavor, and as such theatres are not in a position to spend a lot of time and money on play workshops (a process that spends money but can't make money).

   
   

   Fact: major regional theatres in America today who are gracious enough to extend their resources to new play workshops will offer somewhere between 2 days and 2 weeks to workshop a new script, tops. That is not enough time to take an artsy-fartsy, laissez-faire sort of "help me see what comes next" attitude. You need to have your play in a place where you're going into a workshop with a few specific questions like: is this beat absolutely necessary? how does this line sound vs. this? Maybe on the most extreme end, you're wondering if one of your characters isn't quite distinct enough or wrapped up quite satisfyingly enough by the end. You need to be close to finished when you submit your script to a theatre, even if you're getting a workshop pre-production.
   

3. When you submit unfinished scripts to theatres, you're part of a big problem. Playwrights will say, "it's crazy that so few theatres do play development work," and "it's really unfortunate and unfair that there are so few theatres we can submit to!" You know why so few theatres accept new play submissions? Because as soon as a theatre opens submissions, they get flooded with unfinished scripts. It takes up a LOT of their time; it means they've got people spending day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, looking for a needle in a haystack: a viable script among all these first drafts and needy notes demanding productions to "finish" the play. Again, it's not the theatre's job to finish your play; that's your job as the playwright. If it weren't for this "great sifting" through so many unfinished script submissions, there would be more open submissions at more theatres. Guaranteed.
   

4. Finally, this is very important to remember: you (the playwright) are not the director. You are not the actors. You don't get to decide how your play will be staged-- that's the director's job. You don't get to tell actors how you imagined them saying and thinking about their lines-- that's the actors' job. Your job is making sure everything comes right off the page without needing an explanation: if you need to explain it, it isn't in your play. Put it in the play. Say you've got your play into a workshop at last, what is your job at this moment? Your job at this moment is to listen, ask specific questions, and take your notes fast. Say you've got your play into a production, well done! Your job at this point is to get out of the way! You've made this great play, and you can see an imaginary production just perfectly in your mind. If you insist on bringing that exact imaginary production to life, you will flatten out all the facets of light and perspective that the actual production members are going to bring to it: the director, the actors, the designers.

Your role as a playwright is a diminishing one through the process. Your job is huge upfront. And at the end, if you've done your job well, there should hardly even be any questions coming your way from the director. The artists who are working on your play should be able to see what your play needs to succeed. And that means you have to be able to see it first.

Is that easy? No way! Is it lonely and time-consuming and screaming-hard sometimes? Of course it is. They don't call it "show fun." And you do need people to read and re-read your script with you. But that's not a theatre's job. That's your job to get friends and family to read your work; gather the very best artists and most critical thinkers you know to do living room reads. It's your job to consider and reconsider every element you've introduced into the script with any and all means at your disposal. Is every word advancing your story and/or characters? Is every word necessary? Is every beat completely-completely intentional? Question everything.

A good rule of thumb for you to tell if your script is finished or not is to simply read it over and over to yourself-- and when find you can read through the whole script and not call into question one single word or punctuation point, it may be finished. But even then, you probably need to wait at least a few weeks or months to look at it again with fresh eyes-- and then you may suddenly see something you felt strongly about before, that you now feel should go-- in the interest of what the play is itself (not just what you want it to be, or thought it would become).

If your play is truly finished, it will stand apart from you; it will stand on its own.

When you do this work, the hard work of playwrighting that takes into account the full responsibility that is yours alone of finishing your script, you are doing a service not only to your own play (by ensuring it's cohesive and fully considered), but you also do a service to producers who are accepting submissions (whose resources you are otherwise wasting), and also to your fellow playwrights (who you are otherwise crowding out).

And you do the greatest service of all for yourself when you know that you have done your utter best to ensure your script comes right off the page, because...

When you see your play come to life on its opening night, you will not be seeing your play through a pane of glass smudged with your own fingerprints-- you will be seeing what the play itself is as it stands, on its own, in the intense light of interpretation by artists and audience; it is a great and incomparable honor to see your play not as yours, but as itself. You must earn this. You must do the work. For all our sakes.

Call the best artists you know and talk things over, ask questions, get feedback, organize your own readings, consider everything. Consider everything again. And again, and again, and again. Read it, and read it, and read it some more. Be objective about it. Make the play what it is: itself.

If your stuck, if you don't know what you need to do next, you probably don't need a full workshop to help you, you probably need more writers first. Ask Monty Python why they only took notes on their sketches from each other-- because, who else would know how to make a Monty Python sketch? Make a writing group, find people who are experts in your subject, and if you want more experts in your corner, hire a service like the Dramatist Guild plays in progress program, or The Red Phone For Writers right here to get feedback sessions and/or a professional sounding board. Make your play's pages perfect so your play stages perfect without explanations or questions from you.

That's ultimately your job. You need to give your play all the attention and thought it takes to ensure that your play can speak for itself; don't hand it all unprepared to a busy theatre and expect a full production to help you finish it.

Finishing your play is no one else's job. It's your job and your honor as a teller of stories and maker of worlds in the capacity of Playwright.

And the choices you make along the way, the choices that help you to finish your play, are all a part of your artistry. Own it. Go. Do. It's on you. Get talking. Don't wait for someone else to do it for you. That's your job, sugar. Get on it right now. Write on.