Certain fundamentals touch us so deeply that it's possible to sort the actions of humans (our own and those we observe around us) into two simple columns: Productive vs. Destructive.
Take, for example, the situation in Ukraine. Sometimes there's no better remedy for murky indecision than bombs falling all around you. I don't mean to compare the topic at hand to real life war and war crimes. But we can learn from the split-second decision-making we're now witnessing on a day to day basis. There are no guarantees that the road uphill will take us to safety but choosing a road and following it always beats staying in bed and fretting.
I don't know how exactly it came to pass but somehow over the past 25 years or so the American playwright has been tamed into believing she is wholly operating at the mercy of an elite and opaque cabal of gatekeepers who will decide what is and what is not worthy.
I am here to tell you that this is one of the most dangerous and destructive transformations ever to have overrun an entire art form: theatre.
And American Theatre (Yes indeed, with a capital A and T!) will continue to circle the drain of disposable fungible ephemera until the people who write for the stage stop playing the part of humble servants and instead learn to embrace the responsibility that comes from being the wellspring of everything else.
That's right. It all begins with you, the writer. And until you accept responsibility for the role you play in shaping the future of our theatre we will continue to face ever dwindling interest from a distracted and ambivalent audience.
It's not easy to acknowledge our power. But we must.
What makes so many writers feel powerless?
Disconnection.
Somehow over decades the playwright has retreated into the solitary confinement of the writer's desk, leaving the nitty gritty nuts and bolts of making shows come alive for people gathered to form an audience to other people who we are told (or we assume) must know better.
Guess what? They don't always.
And theatre is a collaborative art form. You can't write for a form that will bring together designers, directors, actors, producers, musicians, etc. without getting your hands dirty.
It's time for writers to stop standing outside the theatre waiting for an invitation in. You make the theatre. It is yours. Own it. Enter on your own terms. Don't wait for an invitation.
And chart your path with the following question: is this next action serving to nurture the form or is it simply asking for a handout? Theatre needs ideas, it needs writers who give a damn, actors who are brutally truthful and audiences who are endlessly curious.
Everything you do either works to nurture and encourage these elements or drain them. You know the difference.
This is your mission. Choose to accept it.
