First of all I should probably mention that Molly's a pseudonym. And she gave me permission to blog about her situation on the condition that I not reveal her identity. And so I've changed her name. But the facts of the case I present as they came to me.
So a few weeks ago my friend told me she'd decided after much soul-searching that after nearly thirty years writing plays she was going to quit.
Naturally, because I love my friend and also happen to have loved a lot (not all but a good portion) of her work over the years, I took the news hard. Why? Why would you feel you need to make such a drastic change?
She said it was a lot of things.
I asked her to be specific.
She rolled her eyes at me.
I asked her for a list.
She balked. A list? For what?
I told her I would only let the subject go if she could provide me a list of four reasons she was giving up writing for the theatre.
In about seven minutes an email flew in with her list. Here's her list, exactly as it came into my InBox.
- The time between productions of my work gets longer and longer as I get older. And I'm no longer sure what it is I'm waiting for.
- When I do get a nibble or even a production, more often than not it ends up being profoundly disappointing on some level. Either the production is not good and so I don't feel the play has actually been heard or something happens to throw the whole thing into disarray. Bottom line: I get more anxiety and sorrow than joy.
- I am exhausted. If anyone had explained to me, really explained to me exactly how I was going to have to be my own engine, my own cheerleader, my own source of hope year after year, I might have been wise enough to do something else.
- Lately, I notice a new feeling stirring deep within me and I don't like it at all. It feels dangerously close to resentment of other people's success. And that's just not who I want to be.
In a way, I'm grateful this happened now because in this odd post-Covid-still-with-CoVid-are-we-fooling-ourselves-that-we're-safe time we're now living in, it's hard to know which end is up.
One thing I think is probably true for almost everyone on the planet right now. Pandemic Pause has shifted our perspective. It's caused us to question everything. And some of the answers we're finding within ourselves can be more than unexpected. Often they can be gosh darn inconvenient.
But I look at Molly's list and instead of an end, I want to see a beginning. I study her list and in it I am sure each of us can find important reminders about what we need in order to stay the course, to feel useful and worthy and to continue making new work.
What do I mean? I guess I mean, I look at item #1 which anyone who writes scripts can certainly relate to and I see a call to action. Why can't writers be more proactive about making opportunities for connecting with audiences?
In large part I think my monologue odyssey has been aimed at doing just that. By encouraging you to write more monologues I think I was also probably hoping that some of you would find a fresher more immediate connection with your audience, one that allows for greater portability, adaptability, accessibility. Think about it. With a monologue, all you need is a group of people gathered, one person to bring that character to life through those words. And with just those two ingredients you may have created some electric theatre.
How is that possible?
It's possible cause you're a writer and it's your imagination that sparks everything else. If week after week of staring at the same four walls has taught us nothing else, my God please let it have revealed to every playwright the fundamental power of our gifts. No one else has quite the same power to move an audience and change them forever. If an actor does that it is through the character you first imagined. Don't ever dismiss or diminish that because that is huge. And it always will be. And no one can ever take that away from you.
There is no show without you. Period.
And why do I put it so starkly? Well, because maybe some of us really need to hear it spelled out in stark terms. Because I have been directing and producing and teaching in this world for thirty years and I can count on one hand the number of playwrights or screenwriters for that matter who actually move through the world with the appropriate confidence in the value they carry around between the covers of each script.
When you spend a year or two of your life creating these people yourself, what you've done is miraculous. Not to mention exhausting and time consuming. So please, for the love of God, the next time someone shows up and tells you they'd like to do something with one of your babies, breathe for a minute. And don't just say yes to anyone. You have a responsibility to your work to protect it from hackery, from incompetence, and most of all, from malignant indifference.
If someone says they want to produce, direct or perform your work, let them show you how true that is before you sign on the dotted line because there's nothing quite as heart breaking as giving your baby to someone who reveals themselves to be more interested in the pursuit than the actual work of seeing to it that it shines.
Finally, I think that after the last year and a half anyone who's not feeling a little worn down and exhausted might be deluded. This has been a really raw year+. And if there's one thing it should have made crystal clear it is the undeniable fact that human beings need other human beings.
And writers need other writers. You need to take conscious steps to ensure that you are surrounded most often with writers who you respect and who respect you back. Why? So that when stuff doesn't go your way in this shitty business which often feels less like a business than it does a game of craps, you have colleagues and, dare I say, friends who you can lean on for support, moral support and also reality-check support. We need people to tell us when we're losing our perspective. Because that's how we manage to pick up our stuff and stand up to fight another day.
Nobody succeeds alone.
So figure out what you need, make your own list and then love and respect your gifts enough to take steps to see to it that your future life (from today forward) is constructed in ways that support and encourage you getting whatever it is that you need so that you find joy where Molly no longer can, joy in your unique ability to reflect a part of the world back to a world that may or may not be ready to see or hear what you do.
But one day, if you persevere, I guarantee you will find the people who are meant to encounter your work and they will thank you.
And for that you can be grateful.
The Roland Tec Online Writers Workshop 2021-22 begins November 9th and will be co-facilitated with award-winning Pittsburgh playwright and librettist Tammy Ryan. For application guidelines, visit: rolandtec.com/rtoww-21 . APPLICATION DEADLINE: OCTOBER 23.
