The Playwright's Forum

NEWSLETTER ARCHIVES

CONTENTS

THE SPOTLIGHT'S ON - THE DIRECTOR... by Sheilah Kleiman
THE SPOTLIGHT'S ON - THE ACTOR... by Sheilah Kleiman
THE SPOTLIGHT'S ON - MUSICAL THEATRE... by Sheilah Kleiman
TOP HIDDEN SECRETS OF PLAYWRITING REVEALED! by Linda Eisenstein
THE SPOTLIGHT'S ON - WOMEN PLAYWRIGHTS by Sheila Kleiman
GRANT US THIS DAY by Pat Lin
THE ART OF COMMENTARY AS CRITIC AND PLAYWRIGHT by Jeanne Marshall
MARKETPLACE FOR TRANSLATIONS AND ADAPTATIONS
SUBMITTING YOUR PLAY: THE MOST NECESSARY EVIL by Gary Garrison
"CAVEAT SCRIPTOR": LET THE PLAYWRIGHT BEWARE! By Patricia Lin
WOMEN PLAYWRIGHTS: HELPING TO EVEN THE ODDS by Linda Eisenstein
PLAYWRITING TIPS from Neil Simon's autobiography
WHY I SHOULDN'T WRITE PLAYS by playwright David Ives. excerpted from article in New York Times
17 SUREFIRE WAYS TO GET YOUR SCRIPT REJECTED by Linda Eisenstein (from Practical Playwriting)
AT SUNDANCE by Deborah Pryor
TOP 10!
PUBLIC READINGS & FEEDBACK by Jeffrey Sweet
GUERRILLA MARKETING: The Internet and other off-road opportunities by Linda Eisenstein
SOFTWARE CHOICES MADE SIMPLE by Rip Claassen

THE SPOTLIGHT'S ON –– THE DIRECTOR...
by Sheilah Kleiman (2006)

The Director. The one person with whom the playwright places total trust. It is the director who will use his or her interpretation, vision and expertise to breathe life into your work. Several directors in and around the DC area have offered up some advice for the playwright.

LYNNIE RAYBUCK (LR) - 16 years with Smallbeer Theatre Company, 14 years with George Mason University.

CATHERINE ASELFORD (CA) - freelance since 1980 as Artistic Director of the Georgetown Theatre Company as well as other theatre groups and companies.

MARY BLAKE SUIB (MS) - freelance 5 years.

JANE LATMAN (JL) - former director and dramaturg at Cleveland Public Theatre, Asst Director Cleveland Play House. Worked with Studio Theatre (dramaturg), Source Theatre Festival Plays (director), Scena Theatre, New Works Theatre, Horizons Theatre (director) and was Associate Artistic
Director of Horizons Theatre for three years.

PAUL MacWHORTER (PMac) - freelance 12 years.

1. What elements in a script do you look for to make your job easier?
LR - An interesting story or vision. Characters that are worth working on (not totally spelled out by the playwright).
CA - Plot, also known as structure. I believe that the director's job is to tell the story that the playwright wrote, visually, on the stage.
MS - A clear story line.
JL - I look for a good plot and good dialogue. Good dialogue will help make my job easier. It also helps if the play doesn't spell out exactly what the set will be or the emotions of the characters. Again, the dialogue and plot should be sufficient to signal the emotions that the character is feeling.
PMac - Clear, concise scenes with readily identifiable characters and sharp, precise actions; uncluttered dialogue; minimal stage directions and exposition.

2. What about the characters, as written, most helps you give the actors guidance?
LR - Dialogue, speech, defined goals and importance to play. Although in traditional theatre "character" is developed on stage by the tactics one uses to pursue goals and those are often physical actions developed with actors, some focus of goal is necessary for all characters though I don't
need to see a traditional "arc" of development. In nontraditional theatre clarity of vision and possibility of opening up vision draws me.
CA - It helps if with each line of dialogue the characters pursue their goals. Good example:
JOHN: Maureen, honey, tell me what's wrong? Don't you want to run away and get married?
Bad example:
JOHN: Maureen, you seem distant.
MS - It is important that each character has a clear voice. A playwright who tells me a story impresses me more than one who describes an event. The story and the voices of the characters come through in a reading. Events and pictures do not. Often I find they confuse and distract from the story.
JL - Again, it's the dialogue. How the character speaks along with their actions tells me what they're about. For example: if a character has halting dialogue with stops and starts, dashes and ellipses, then I can see the playwright's probably insecure or unsure. The character descriptions at
the top of the play are also helpful.
PMac - Clear and unique speech patterns so that you can hear the character speak and know who they are with your eyes closed.

3. How do you prepare yourself for directing the production of any particular play?
LR - Research around any clues in text and any cultural or artistic or historical subject that may be related. Talk to people. Listen to music. Look at art. Read. Have a reading. Figure out what the play's about. Sketch out ideas for characters. Outline play. Try to find good support (design and management). Keep an open mind. Maintain communication with all. Find the market and address it. Draw pictures in my mind. Construct a political/social context for the work. Start collecting objects and costume pieces. Find a goddess figure who speaks for the reason for doing the play (a voodoo doll for Lion In The Streets; a hand made Mexican bride for Big Love Plus A Blue Burqua).
CA - Read it once, for fun and first impressions. Read it again and develop movement patterns. Do any research necessary. Sometimes I write out a simple scenario of the play, especially if I need to work out actors doubling roles.
MS - Read, consider, read, muse, read, think, read, listen.
JL - I read the play. Then I read the play again. I have to give myself time to digest the play and let it sit with me before I begin work on it.
PMac - Speak to the playwright about his/her intentions, needs and reasons for writing the play; also do any special research that might be necessary, i.e., historical, biographical, cultural, etc.

4. If the playwright is there during the rehearsal process what can he/she do to facilitate your best work?
LR - Communicate. Not communicate about things that cannot be changed, i.e., casting. Be open to continued work. Amplify on ideas not being addressed in production. Contain fear. Look at the experience as a great adventure which we are all on together. Trust me and the cast and designers - but always communicate. Enjoy the process.
CA - Explain anything that is unclear.
MS - Talk with me beforehand about the script. Stay quiet during the rehearsal. Speak with me afterwards about concerns.
JL - I like it when the playwright speaks up (to me). I want to know if I'm misreading his/her intentions (or if the actors are). I find working with playwrights in the rehearsal process a great collaboration and I like it when the playwrights are willing to revise the script during the rehearsal
process. It's also good when playwrights are firm on what they will not change and stick to their guns. It's helpful to me as a director to see what they're flexible about and what is non-negotiable. It helps me understand their intent.
PMac - LISTEN and go home and THINK and then REWRITE.

5. What kinds of stage directions do you find useful in a script, what kinds are not?
LR - Useful: The playwright's vision can be useful to see what the playwright was thinking. Playwrights are not designers or actors so they are just ideas, not text. Not useful: Physical emotion, descriptions of characters, actions (example: a gorgeous slender blonde, wistfully).
CA - Useful: ENTERS, EXITS, FIGHTS, AND DIES are all good! Stage directions should describe physical actions that the reader must know about. Not useful: The kind where the playwright describes the qualities he or she wants in the actors (also known as trying to direct the actors through stage direction). Example: thoughtfully, as if strangely mesmerized by the ethereal nature of her beauty. "Maureen?"
MS - Useful: Those which set out the basic visuals and sounds. Not useful: Emotional or highly detailed directions.
JL - Useful: Entrances, exits, physical stuff, not too many emotions. Not useful: Detailed explanations of states of mind (I don't mind if it says "irritated" or "with glee" or some sort of one word hint but too many details doesn't give me and the actors room to do what we do best.) Also, I
don't find too many details of staging or sets too useful. Part of what mounting a play is about is interpretation so I want the playwright to give me and the cast room to interpret.
PMac - Useful: Only those that help to describe the physical environment. Not useful: Those that tell the actor how to act or the director how to direct.

I asked Catherine Aselford when she is open to a playwright's input and when the playwright needs to step back and give the work over to the director. "The playwright needs to step back if and when there is a particular way in which he or she visualizes the actors playing the roles. It should be clear from the writing that John loves Maureen, but doesn't realize that Maureen couldn't care less about him. The playwright shouldn't need to explain it - that indicates a weakness in the play and the playwright should resist the temptation to tell the actor playing John how an unrequited lover would say that line. Catherine Aselford went on to offer this advice. "I don't believe in the
"director as auteur" rubbish. All playwrights should read MISDIRECTING THE PLAY by Terry McCabe."

THE SPOTLIGHT'S ON –– THE ACTOR...
by Sheilah Kleiman (2006)

Once you have written your play, what’s next? Ideally it would find a producer and director who want to put it on the stage in front of a live audience; and your sweat and tears are turned over to the actor –– the one person in the world who will breathe life into your character.

In this issue we ask the Actor to share.

The Players:

David Ingram –– born in San Diego, grew up in Washington DC. He received his BA from Amherst College and an MFA from Tisch School of the Arts (NYU). He has performed at Arena Stage and Round House, invited to join a resident company at People’s Light and Theatre in Malvern PA. Among his favorites the part of Zebi in Ernie Joselovitz’s Vilna’s Got A Golem (Philadelphia and NY). David has been teaching theater full time at Temple University. He has directed both at Temple and in Philadelphia. Also he has worked with Philadelphia Young Playwrights producing workshops of prize-winning plays at Temple.

Kathleen Coons –– born and raised in Denver. BA in Theatre from Connecticut College (New London CT). Kathleen has performed at the Washington Shakespeare Company, Charter Theatre, The Theatre Conspiracy, the Keegan Theatre, for the Washington Stage Guild, and the Theater Alliance. Her favorite thus far was playing Alice in Painted Alice by William Donnelly.

Kathryn Kelley –– born I Pine Bluff AR, later moved to DC. Marie-Curie School (Dusseldorf, Germany), American College (Paris, France), BA in English from Virginia Commonwealth University (Richmond) and MFA in Acting under Zelda Fischandler from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts. Kathleen began her acting career at VCU. Highlight –– her performance in The Glass Menagerie at Source Theatre (later touring to London’s New End Theatre in Hampstead and the former Yugoslavia).

Mitchell Hébert –– born in Kenosha WI, moved to Milwaukee when he was 19. Moved into the DC area to accept a job at Maryland. BFA from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, MFA from the University of Washington. Mitchell has been acting professionally for over 20 years and has performed in over 100 productions. Favorite roles to date are: Jimmy in Heaven (Woolly Mammoth), Morgan in The Drawer Boy (Round House) for which he received a Helen Hayes nomination for Outstanding Lead Actor. He played Mayor Wagner in Ernie Joselovitz’s Shakespeare, Moses, and Joe Papp. Playing Cyrano at the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center at the University of Maryland was a real highlight –– the thrill of playing the part and the joy of playing it opposite his students.

What do you do in preparation before the first production meeting/read through?

DI –– It depends on lots of things. I’ve come to first rehearsals where I’ve received a copy of the play for the first time and on the other side of the spectrum I’ve come to rehearsals off-book. I like to do background reading a lot particularly for historical pieces. Mostly I want to have a clean mental palate, not be distracted.

KC –– I always read the play as many times as possible and start working on getting off book. I find that in a good play, everything you need is in the text. Outside research can be helpful –– reading literature, renting movies that capture a time and place, but in a well written play your answers are in the text and in what happens when you speak that text.

KK –– I read as much as I can about the play and the playwright. I love the classics (old and new). Also I look at what the character and I have in common. Simply –– you discover what and who the character needs and you intensify that through your own lens. I try and figure out how you’’re going to get that need met, no matter what! Most important –– the viewpoint of the character.

MH –– Read the play many many times then leave it for a few days, let the subconscious work on it, then go back and read it again. Research! –– period, place and political environment.

With a new play what has been the best way the playwright has been helpful to you? Not helpful?

DI –– I like it when the playwright gives me notes or ideas in conjunction with the director. Usually it is not helpful if the playwright tries to work with me without the blessing of the director.

KC –– Trust. Trusting me to find and discover the truth of a character. Mutual confidence makes a wonderful working relationship. Saying yes as a first response –– yes is always the most interesting choice on stage. Saying no is never helpful.

KK –– Because I am new (relatively) on stage I found it helpful that playwrights (Joan Cushing and Paul D’Andrea in particular) were encouraging and receptive to my efforts. Rich Amada was very trusting and appreciative. Things that make you want to work with these playwrights again. Not helpful –– the 11th hour rewrites. Impossible to prevent –– so this is not a complaint!

MH –– Answer the questions related to research. Give factual information about the person I’m playing. Not helpful –– well, giving me information I haven’t requested. Wait to be asked.

What do you look for in the dialogue –– yours and others’ –– to develop your character?

DI –– Choice of words, how the character strings thoughts together, patterns of speech.

KC –– A good play gives you everything you need and your job as the actor is to show up and be open. Good dialogue is such a gift –– it can give you your pace, your spirit, your essence.

KK –– Speech patterns, clues as to the status of the character –– the rise and fall of her status, places where she mocks herself or has a fresh take on something. How much does she choose to reveal about herself and to whom? How much does she care about what others say about her? How does she defend herself? What shocks her? Who does she trust? Does she lie to herself? Why?

MI –– I look for how they use language. Are they aggressive with it or passive. How do they put ideas together. Do you say a paragraph when one line will do. I look for tempo and rhythm changes –– vocabulary/education.

What changes for your performance and character when you get off book at a production rehearsal?

DI –– Well, there’s off-book and there’s off-book. There’s the off-book when you’re just risking putting your book down for the first time and you have a glazed look in your eyes. Your mind is wildly scrambling for the lines. And then there’s the off-book when you are confident enough not to think ahead. That’s the process –– it starts with the first rehearsal and ends on closing night.

KC –– It is an amazing thing when you start speaking another person’s words as your own. Your safety net (the book) is gone –– you have no choice but to show up and merge with the words. You stumble, you curse through the first few rehearsals because you know! you had those lines earlier in the day –– and your coffee cup is your witness. But it is in rehearsing off book that you start to feel like you own the experience of the play, that you have exponentially increased your opportunities to make fabulous, wacky and clear choices.

KK –– Without the book you have to figure out what the heck to specifically do with your hands and the rest of your body which you’’ve been keeping in reserve. Lots of energy has been used in holding the script and looking at the script. You can start living more truthfully the second you drop the book.

MH –– I get off book when I’ve internalized to some degree the thoughts and inner life of the character. I can now focus on listening.

Advice and/or suggestions.

DI –– Since I could never do what a playwright does –– the blank page just scares me too much –– it would be pretty presumptuous of me to come up with suggestions. Keep up the good work!

KC –– I have no general do’s or don’ts. I can tell you what inspires me. Natural, smart, complex dialogue. Offer solid feedback. Characters with knowledge. Characters with weight and truth. Writing scenes that create opportunity and many choices for actors. Caring what I think about where my character’’s journey will take me. This creates interest and responsibility for me.

KK –– Please require characters to make some really difficult choices. The difference between a preference and a choice is huge to an actor. Let there be major choices made before the play even starts. Let characters and situations be as full of incongruities as possible, because there’s the truth and the fun. Consider writing plays that can be enjoyed by adults and young people together.

MH –– Write from your heart. When producing the play please embrace the concept of less is more. I’’m not referring to running time. Don’t let the play grind to a dramatic halt as the play loses its forward drive. Playwrights who are approached about cutting should step back and consider before declining.

Thanks guys. Your insight of our work lends much to be pondered.

THE SPOTLIGHT'S ON –– MUSICAL THEATRE...
by Sheilah Kleiman (2006)

The musical. Who doesn't love to sit in the dark and let music bring a sundry of emotions into your theatre experience? Several Forum members from the Musical Theatre Wing have answered some questions for us. A bit about our guests.

Andy Dodds, when not working on her chosen trade, dabbles in real estate investing and runs an exercise program at home, picks up royalties and generally keeps busy. She is currently producing Petpourri in December (6th-12th) at Source Theatre. Andy has been writing musicals for children for many years. Her first musical, Froggie Went A'Courtin (book by Stanley Werner Jr.) was published by Dramatic Publishing Company. Other published shows have included The Adventures of Edam Stilton (with Werner), Rock Candy Mountain Revisited (with Werner and Robert DeCormier), The Good Knight Story (with Deborah Wicks LaPuma) which was commissioned by the Children's Empowerment Network and Sleeping Beauty: The Time Traveler And Her New Millennium Prince (with LaPuma) commissioned by Imagination Stage. Rock Candy Mountain Revisited was recorded by Golden Records.

On collaboration, Andy says, "I've collaborated with six people over the years. It's like a marriage. You don't have to have a lot in common, but it helps if you do. More than anything else there has to be an underlying respect. Right now, I'm collaborating with a composer I've never met or even spoken to. He lives in Texas. I'm in Washington. We communicate through email. And through our shared book writer whose opinion I value.

Joan Cushing on the other hand writes book, music and lyrics. She doesn't have a collaborator in that sense. "But I see the development process of these musicals as a collaboration with the theatre. The artistic director brings dramaturg skills to the piece and the director has to bring more practical issues of how to get the play to work on stage. Finally, the musical director must orchestrate the score. The most important thing for me in this whole collaborative process is that my script is respected.
Differences between songwriting and writing songs for the theatre. When Joan writes a song, if it's topical, she researches the subject and writes a song about it. That's it. "When I write a song for a play, it has to come naturally from the character and grow naturally out of the dialogue, and the song is the culminating emotional point of the scene." When it comes to deciding what songs are written for what places in the book, "it's not defined easily. I just look at the pictures in a book and see places that are crying out to be blown up and expanded into song or dance, or whole scenes that can be compressed into one musical moment." If a song needs to expand into a dance moment, Joan sometimes knows ahead of time and plans for
it. Other times it occurs to her as she is doing the final vocal arrangements.

Mark Walter Braswell (ASCAP) just completed the first full performance of his new musical production Paying The Price at the National Theatre's Helen Hayes Gallery. He is currently launching the marketing of Paying The Price which depicts his father's true story in WWII as a tail gunner on a Bernardo-17 and as a POW in Romania. Mark has been contacted about writing the theme song for a convention to be performed by a major recording artist. Next up is work on a musical revue to be performed in Manhattan in 2004. In 2003 Mark released a CD - Before Tomorrow - which was recommended for purchase by the Advocate Magazine. It is a compilation of audience favorites from his musicals and revues. He has showcased his music at Don't Tell Mama (NY) and has participated in benefits in Washington and New York,
including a benefit featuring Broadway performers. Mark is a founding member of the Musical Theatre Wing.

Mark typically writes book, music and lyrics for his works. Recently though he collaborated with his father on Paying The Price. "That turned into a very rewarding collaboration, as my dad read drafts of scripts and gave me suggestions to tighten the accuracy of the moment or share additional memories that would bring a scene to life." He hopes to be able to adapt other materials for the stage and to find someone who either has written a story that he is drawn to or has a vision for a book that excites him.

How do you decide what songs are written for what places in the book? "Songs within a musical should be of different styles and tempos. This keeps audience members from feeling like the production is predictable. It is necessary in presenting the variety of a character's emotions. Different types of songs are needed for different types of moments. For example, if two characters are beginning to feel comfortably silly or share nervous energy in a happy setting, then a comedic number at that point can help to demonstrate their feelings."

Movement in a song? "Every song has its own movement, tempo, or pace. Every scene calls for a different type of movement. On top of that, songs can often be propelled and made to have more of an impact through a bridge that takes the song in a different direction or through a modulation in the key. Another way to give strength to a song is to turn it into a duet or have other characters interject phrases, whether they are sung or spoken. This keeps the song firmly attached to the characters and plot line and keeps the plot dependent upon the performance of each song.

What about revealing character and furthering the scene's action in a song? Because Mark writes both lyrics and music he is able to hear in his head a character's expression both as a melody and as words. "To me they are intertwined. At a tender moment in a play I might write the song as a soft ballad, expecting the actor to remain stationary and simply sing from his or her heart. In that moment of sincerity with the audience, I might have the character reveal more about why that part of the story has such impact on that person singing."

How is a book for a musical different from one without? Mark says a book for a musical will call for the story to be told through songs. In fact, he says, a full length musical today has roughly 22 songs in it. Some musicals today are mostly sung-through, including several recent Broadway hits. The story's presentation will fully integrate songs so as to allow them to join with the spoken dialogue to move the plot forward.

Joan believes the difference is that in a play the high points occur in the dialogue, or silences. In a musical, the high points occur in the songs. "Musicals have a sort of different reality, a suspended belief, where everything can be exaggerated and still be believable."

MARKETING: Joan's advice for children's theatre writers: find out what books are on the school book list, and what children are studying in school. Either write an original piece that would speak to these ideas or try and get the rights or have a theatre get the rights to write an adaptation of the book. Children's theatre survives mostly on the school tours that occur during the week. On the other hand, if there's something you want to write, just do it. If its original and from the heart then it's your best work and that's the path you need to follow. Join organizations that the children's theatres belong to, use those lists, plus going through the Dramatists Sourcebook. Considering joining ASSITEJ (runs about $60/yr). They send a directory every year including names and addresses of members and member theatres and give detailed information about the theatre personnel. (In Tennessee - 615-254-5719).

Mark's advice: the biggest challenge facing the development of any new musical is money. Having to hire musicians and obtain instruments adds significant costs to any production. That fact alone is a major obstacle to most composers and lyricists who want to see their work in the context of a musical production. Even a reading of a show means hiring of at least a pianist. Of course the performers to be hired must not only be talented actors but also gifted singers. "I have been fortunate to receive special awards for several years through ASCAP in New York, which has helped some in my efforts. Also a recent honorarium from the National Theatre helped to defray costs. I have been lucky this past year to receive income from sales of my CD. I presently have the prospect of theatres booking my most recent production. So, that dream of a full run, a hit song, or an audience moved to tears by a melody that I created is what keeps me writing. I try to remember what Marvin Hamlisch once told me when I asked him about how to stay motivated. His reply, 'just keep writing new songs and the cream will rise to the top.'"

TOP HIDDEN SECRETS OF PLAYWRITING REVEALED!
by Linda Eisenstein (2004)

Think of this as a National Enquirer title: You too can master the Hidden Secrets of, etc. etc. you can think of this as "Things they may not tell you in school."

*Failure is inevitable.
In fact, it’s necessary for your growth. You will learn as much from failures as from success. Because you will fail, over and over.

*See plays.
By all means, read the classic literature, the major works for the stage. But: you will learn as much, or more, from seeing bad plays and bad productions as from seeing good ones. You will generally learn more easily from other people’s failures than from your own, because they hurt less.

*Try anything once.
A monologue play. An epic. A verse play. A short musical. An adaptation. Be bold, daring! Go ahead, break all the rules. When you fail, and you will, learn from it. My favorite paraphrase from John Kander and Fred Ebb: "What makes us professionals is that we don[‘t make the same huge boneheaded mistake in production after production; instead, we make new ones."

*Toughen your skin.
Criticism - the public kind - is inevitable. Playwrights get more direct feedback than almost any other kind of writer, because you can be in the room with people experiencing your work. You’ll hear them laugh, cry, be rapt - or, alternatively, fidget, cough, or stream out.

*Learn how to listen to advice.
"There are 3 basic human needs," says Romulus Linney, "Food, sex, and the desire to rewrite someone else’s play." Learning how to deal with feedback is one of the most difficult and necessary things a playwright needs to develop. Many people’s advice tells you hbow to turn your play into the play they would have written, if they were writing about that subject/characters/themes. The most useful advice is that which tells you where someone "unhooked" from your play and why. Remember: all advice/critique is subjective.

*Volunteer to learn.
Playwriting isn’t a discipline you learn at your kitchen table. You learn it in a theatre. Expect to put in an apprenticeship somewhere. It is golden.

*All experience counts.
Put the shoe on the other foot, and often. Cross-genre and cross-discipline experience counts even more. The more theatrical roles you have experience in, the better your plays will be. This doesn’t mean you have to be good at the other roles, but you have to understand them, and preferably from the inside. Direct a staged reading of someone else’s play. Act. Help build a set, and focus lights. Write a press release. All these are invaluable skills that will improve your work.

*Persistence furthers.
If you’re a playwright, and/or want to be one, you’re in it for the long haul. It’s about writing all the time; marketing all the time; staying connected; learning your field - its literature, its practitioners.

*Do it yourself.
The people I know who have a history of significant productions didn’t set around waiting to be "picked". Many made a number of them h appen themselves. The more original you are, the more DIY is a must.

*Know - and try to love - your collaborators.
Hate actors? Resist directors? Despise audiences? You will not be a happy camper. The proper care and feeding of your colleagues will not only get your plays done more often, they’ll be better plays.

*Know your audience(s) and market(s).
Who are you writing for, trying to reach? Theatre is a public act, not a private one. Most of the big theatres listed in the sourcebooks have a particular demographic - suburban, upper middle class, over 50-to-70's. Is that whom you’re writing for?

*Understand theatre ecosystems.
They are, more or less, the same in every city. Think global, act local. Be an information junkie about theatre scenes.

*Contacts matter.
Yes they do. They really matter. Remember people’s names. Practice the Golden Rule. Keep abreast of research - read American Theatre. Go to conferences. Take busman’s holidays, and see theatre when you are on the road. File correspondence and address/phone/email addresses.

*Learn about the business
of playwriting as well as the craft. The two are, in fact, inseparable. You can write wonderful plays but if you don’t know how to market them, or the etiquette of how theatres operate, you will torpedo your chances for successful productions as surely as if you were writing poorly.

*Don’t expect a regular income
from playwriting. People practice it because it is emotionally and spiritually satisfying, not because it is economically sound. To make money, you’ll need to do other things. You may work elsewhere as a writer: in film, TV, journalism, whatever. You can work in a theatre, or teach. There’s temp work, there’s welding, or financial support from your family. Job(s) that allow you flexibility, access to arts decision-makers, and time to think and travel are a plus.

*Cultivate support systems.
Get yourself a gang: actors, directors, other writers. This isn’t a solo sport, it’s a team sport. Supportive relationships will help your career and life. Join organizations.

*Develop a sense of proportion
about the field’s frustrations: its glacial waits, the ups and downs of acceptance, rejection, its patent unfairness. A meditation practice helps. Learn how to ride the roller-coaster. Thinking of small victories - a positive comment scrawled on a rejection letter, a round-the-table reading - as "clipping coupons" helps.

*Be confident and pro-active.
(This counts double for women.) Don’t be a "good girl". 99% of what’s on every stage in the world, including the huge prize winners, is something playwright/critic Geralyn Horton calls an IBFD: an Interesting But Flawed Drama. Assume that yours are as worthy as anyone else’s. Confidence and optimism will take you farther than shyness and pessimism. Learn to toot your own horn.

Linda is a playwright, composer and critic based in Cleveland. Her new musical, Holiday Hotline, opened in November in Detroit Avenue Arts. <www.lindaeisenstein.com>.

THE SPOTLIGHT'S ON –– WOMEN PLAYWRIGHTS
by Sheilah Kleiman (Fall 2005)

As a follow up to the Forum’’s Women’s Conference held December 4 we thought it would be interesting to get some insight from a few of our women playwrights.

A little introduction:

Allyson Currin
–– Ally has been nominated twice for the Helen Hayes Awards’ Charles D. MacArthur Award for Outstanding New Play for Church Of The Open Mind (Charter Theatre) and Amstel In Tel Aviv (Source Theatre). Her play The Subject opened Charter Theatre’’s 6th season this fall and her play Radio Free America was spotlighted in Theatre Alliances Pangea Project. Other area productions include Fur And Other Dangers (Source 2003), Learning Curves (Washington Shakespeare Company 2002) and others. She teaches playwriting and acting at The George Washington University and is currently working on an adaptation of The Magic Flute for the In-Series as well as several new scripts.

Donna Gerdin
–– In addition to playwriting, Donna is a copywriter, former Director of Communications for the Women’s Center and currently enrolled full time in an M.A. program at George Mason University. She hopes to teach writing some time next year.

D. W. Gregory
–– D. W. is a resident playwright with New Jersey Repertory Co where her Pulitzer-nominated drama The Good Daughter set box office records when it premiered in 2003. Other full length plays include the widely produced Radium Girls (named The Best New Play of the 1999-2000 Season by the Newark Star-Ledger); Molumby’s Million (comedy about Jack Dempsey) which was presented in the First Light Festival 2002 at Theater of the First Amendment, Driven To Abstraction (will be included in the Orlando Shakespeare Festival new play series in January 2005), and The Good Girl Is Gone (will be presented as part of the New York University Hot Ink Series in January 2005). Why We Invented God is a finalist this year for the prestigious Heideman Award at Actors Theatre of Louisville and is the 2004 winner of the George R. Kernodle One-Act Playwriting Competition sponsored by the University of Arkansas. D. W. is currently developing two original one-act plays for students at Imagination Stage (slated for production in March 2005). She is a former theater critic for the Washington Post and writes about Washington, DC theater for the web site www.Curtainup.com. In the spring of 2005 she will be an adjunct faculty member at George Mason University. Delores is a native of Pennsylvania and currently makes her home in suburban Washington with her husband Paul, a bluegrass musician.

Do you notice a general difference in the playwriting of men and women? Style of writing? Choice of subjects?

Allyson: I notice a stylistic difference writer to writer. Although I don’t think it’s necessarily gender-related. It’s easy to say that women write mostly "relationship" plays, but I don’t think that’s necessarily the case.

D. W.: I could not generalize. I do think there’s a tendency among readers of plays to believe men are stronger writers and choose more powerful subjects. However, I don’t think that’s really true. The distinction is in the level of skill and the opportunity to hone one’s craft. It may be true that women in general are more distracted than men by their domestic lives; child-care is an exhausting proposition and makes it difficult for working women to pursue outside artistic ventures, particularly if the woman must hold down a paying job to help support the household. So what you see in terms of differences among men and women might really be a reflection of disparate opportunities. Men have more time to write and consequently, more time to learn to write better. I do not see a distinction between established male and female writers in terms of style or subject matter. If there is a difference it may be that women may be more likely to put a female protagonist at the center of the action.

Donna: Yes, I do notice a difference in the way women and men write plays. In fact I think a book has actually been written about that subject. Some of the differences have to do with the structure of plays –– women tending to write shorter scenes, and more of them.

Have you perceived advantages and/or disadvantages of being a woman in the marketing of your plays?

Donna: I have no idea what the advantages/disadvantages are for women playwrights but I’ve certainly heard over the years that it’s harder for women to break through whatever the barriers are. On the other hand, there are a lot of theatres out there now that cater to women playwrights, so maybe it doesn’t matter any more.

D. W.: I think in general there’s a perception that men are stronger writers. I think this is a prejudice that one must simply be prepared to confront. You do that by being persistent and professional. Talent will be recognized eventually. The initial challenge is getting your work in front of someone who will consider it, but once you do that, once you show your stuff, the field levels out. The biggest barrier is not gender, but lack of connections. Writers who are known in theatrical circles, who’ve established themselves coming up, either as actors or directors, are going to be considered first. It’s extremely tough coming in as an outsider without that theatrical background; whether you are a man or a woman, the obstacles are the same.

Allyson: I look at the seasons of plays at most theatres and still see more men produced than women. That angers me for there is certainly no shortage of good women writers. I think the challenges that face us are the challenges that face all people on the forefront: we have to keep pecking away at the established order until we establish ourselves as a permanent part of it.

Did/does childbearing and child rearing have an effect on your writing? Marketing? If so, how?

D. W.: Not for me.

Allyson: Well, it’s certainly harder to find time for the marketing end of it, which is the part that is hardest anyway. The writing always takes care of itself and I always find time for it. I suppose I have deepened as a writer. Although I’m not sure if that’s not just the natural growth of an artist. I do have confidence that I am writing at the top of my game right now and I assume that I will continue to do so. In fact, the only serious bout with writer’s block I’ve ever had was when I was pregnant. Didn’t write a word for 9 months!

Donna: Being a parent has had an enormous impact on my writing, because my family has always come first. As much as I love to write plays, for many years I have simply fit playwriting in as best I could. Some years it wasn’t a good fit at all. The same is true for marketing. This year, as a full time student, once again it is taking a bit of a back seat.

How do you deal with rejection?

Allyson: Much better than I used to. I shrug and send out more scripts.

D. W.: Better than I used to. In the beginning I took it very personally. Now I see rejection letters as opportunities, particularly those letters from literary managers who offer to look at additional work. It’s a chance to try to create a relationship.

Donna: I try not to. What I mean by that is I try not to think about it. What’s the point?

Does your domestic partnership affect your career? How?

Allyson: My husband travels a lot, which is a good thing as it forces me to rely on myself to further my career. I can’t always rely on him for childcare, so I have developed a nice network of back ups. Plus, it’s always fun to bring the kids to rehearsal. They’re very intrigued by the process.

D. W.: He affects it by making it affordable. If I weren’t married and had to work at a full time day job I could not afford to teach and accept commissions. There’’s no question life is a lot easier when you have two people covering the mortgage. But I am also fortunate that my husband is a theatre fan and likes to hear the first drafts of what I write. He is my first editor and if the work doesn’t pass muster with him it usually goes straight into the round file. He’’s got an extremely keen ear and a very sharp memory for detail, which is an invaluable aid.

How do you keep yourself "above water" while you write plays?

D. W.: Economically, I do it by working three days a week at an editing job. Emotionally –– I think that’s a skill that comes with time and experience. If you are serious about writing plays then you have to accept the fact that you are dealing with a 98 percent rejection rate.

Allyson: I certainly rely on the artists and playwrights around me –– the ones I trust –– to tell it like it is when I product something new. That is my most invaluable writing tool. I don’t really have a problem keeping the writing going. Writing is just a natural extension of my personality.

Thank you ladies!

GRANT US THIS DAY
by Pat Lin (February 1995)

After you've been in the "business" of writing scripts for a while, there comes a time when you realize that it would be nice to have something positive to report on the "credit" side of your ledger for a change. Not only would such a blessed event keep the IRS happier (considering those deductions you've claimed for how many years), but it would also justify all those "amounts saved" (according to the register tapes from your neighborhood office supply store).

Anyone can tell you that a little validation (i.e.: a little cash coming into the till) does wonders for the soul! On occasion, it even buys you a printer. The question is: how does one go about 1) finding and 2) actually getting to partake of this manna from heaven? In my experience, one way is to scour your local jurisdiction for sources of funding (i.e.: GRANT MONEY!)

Although many programs have been cut back, your state or local county Arts Commission is a good place to begin. "Local", because these places can only grant money to individuals who actually reside in their jurisdiction. (N.B.: The event they're funding has to take place in their jurisdiction as well!) And these people usually do have money to give out and therefore, they are eager to help you make application.

Often a jurisdiction will hold "workshops" for the express purpose of guiding you through their application process. These workshops can be invaluable, because they give you the opportunity to get information such as: 1) what is this Grantor actually looking for in determining who gets the award. 2) is this award based on individual merit, or on how the project, itself, will impact on the Grantor's jurisdiction. 3) does it help if you have already lined up commitments from whomever is going to help you realizing your project.

About "Budgets": It's a good idea to have an idea as to how much it's going to cost to do your project ... such things as renting a hall, hiring actors, printing up scripts, etc. I can guarantee that you will be asked to come up with a detailed one as part of the application. procedure. The more you know, the more you may get ... grantwise.

Just remember...project administrators are your friends. They really don't mind talking to you. Also remember that a successful application for your project can only be of benefit to you both!

(Pat recently received a grant from the Montgomery County Arts Council.)

What I've found out about are the granting agencies in Maryland of particular importance to other playwrights, like myself, resident in that state.

THE ART OF COMMENTARY AS CRITIC AND PLAYWRIGHT
by Jeanne Marshall (February 1996)

An aspect of the playwriting craft that is least understood and, thus, seen as an ordeal rather than an opportunity, commentary is an important tool in the theatre process. Open discussion in a workshop arena can be both detrimental and constructive to the writer depending on how the information is given and how it is received. Detrimental when the parties involved are unfamiliar with the restrictions that should be in place so as not to create an antagonistic environment. Constructive when the writer understands the technique of evaluation.

Ibsen, in his Drama Workshop, showed the metamorphoses of A DOLL'S HOUSE from first draft to last and explained his reliance on criticism. Henry James also stated that . criticism is appreciation and appropriation" and both the writer and critic must be conscious of his or her own motivation. A writer might want praise for a brilliantly crafted play, unwilling to acknowledge that few of us are savants capable of creating work without flaws. Likewise, discussion participants might want to appropriate the play, usurping the playwright's creative vision, by creating the story as they might have written it. The need for praise or the need to commandeer a story both distort the process. In a critique session, it is imperative that both writer and critic understand the objective of criticism.

The role of the lay critic is to ascertain the perceived strengths and weaknesses of the dramatic material. It is not to make creative choices. For example, it is not up to a critic to find a better ending. Rather, it's the role of critic to explain that the existing ending is not effective because of specific reasons. To make the method of analysis easier, one can dissect the material into five separate components and, in a casual situation, it is not unprofessional to jot down impressions as the reading progresses.

STRUCTURE. This deals with the mechanical craft and has nothing to do with the creative content. Are five acts too long? Does the sequence of events have a consistent and believable logic? Given the restrictions of the stage can one have 19 costume changes in the 15 seconds allotted?
PREMISE. This is merely the very basic idea of the play and the ideas that follow from it. Distilled into one or two sentences, does the foundation of the story make sense.
CHARACTER. Is the protagonist well defined? Do we understand who the story is about and are the supporting characters effective?
DIALOGUE. Is it natural, repetitive, humorous or superficial? What works, what doesn't?
STORYLINE. This is an analysis of the story and whether or not the story effectively supports the premise. Some ideas can have atrocious stories and some great stories can have tedious premises.

(PART II)
It is important for the playwright to recognize that a play is not a child and cannot be injured or insulted. If the idea of collaboration is objectionable then the writer might be better served in more isolated venues such as fiction or poetry. However, if the writer chooses this particular craft then criticism is not an attack but a necessary and desirable part of the collaborative process. This does not mean a playwright need distort or circumvent his or her story in order to accomodate another person's vision. If they have a play they want written, let them sit in front of a computer and struggle through it. But, a playwright must be willing to listen. To be sure that what he intends is valid and that it's communicated with clarity to others.

Directors, actors and designers are also interpretive artists. A playwright is not an island and must learn to rely on the expertise of the interpretive and practical artists. The director understands the environmental limitations of the actual area as well as the actors and is oftentimes far more intimate with the work than anyone else. Actors can be equally important as critics since they are viscerally attached to the characters and can see flaws in the development of their character that a writer might have missed. Practical artists (techies) are also insightful and can tell you if blowing up the set in the middle of the first act is do-able.

There are ways to make criticism more constructive and the situation less intimidating:

Know the dramaturg or discussion leader, since they set the tone for the dialogue.
Come prepared with questions of your own and be willing to ask peer or audience members about concerns you might have. Unless you are Mozart then you do not write a perfect play right out of the gate and, as a theatre craftsman, you must have some clues where your story has flaws. Take the opportunity to ask questions of your own. This can also benefit in the beginning of a discussion when audience members might feel too uncomfortable to start or uncertain if their comments are welcome. By being open rather thanhostile, a writer can create a positive atmosphere.
Take notes - sometimes the most innocent of comments can provide a plethora of inspiration.
Listen - at public readings some audience members may not be writers but they are the people you're trying to reach. Audiences are never wrong about two things: when they're confused and when they're bored. Listen to, don't deny, what they have to say about those.
Most of all DO NOT DEFEND YOUR WORK. You need not explain any of your choices (you're the writer which makes you emperor of your own universe) and by being defensive it makes audience members reluctant to talk. It also creates an adversarial environment which is detrimental to the process.

Listen, take notes, ask questions, be grateful that people are willing to expend a little of their energy on your work. However: do not start rewrites immediately, and look over the notes carefully. Be discriminating in what you choose to iincorporate into your work; good plays have been destroyed by trying to please everyone.

Tchaikovsky wrote that criticism and "persistent labor has at last permitted me to achieve a form that in some degree corresponds to the content." It's all worth the effort.

MARKETPLACE FOR TRANSLATIONS AND ADAPTATIONS
(August 1997)

ANTAEUS GROUP
Frank Dwyer C/o Mark Taper Annex
601 Temple Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90012

BAILIWICK REPERTORY TH
1229 West Belmont
Chicago, IL 60657

BLOOMBURG THEATRE ENSEMBLE
Tom Byrn, Selection Chair
Box 66, Bloomburg, PA 17815

CENTER STAGE
James Magruder, Resident Dramaturg
700 North Calvert St
Baltimore, MD 21202

CHICAGO UNIVERSITY PRESS
5801 So. Ellis Avenue
Chicago, IL 60637

CLASSIC STAGE CO
David Esbjornson, Artistic Director
136 East 13th St., New York, NY 10003

CLASSICAL THEATRE LAB
6201 Sunset Blvd #3
Hollywood, CA 90028

COURT THEATRE
Gavin Witt, Dramaturg
5535 So. Ellis
Chicago, IL 60637

EMPTY SPACE THEATRE
Eddie Levi Lee, Artistic Director
3509 Fremont Ave N
Seattle, CA 98103

GUTHRIE THEATRE
Lit Dept. 725 Vineland Pl
Minneapolis, MN 55403

HARTFORD STAGE CO
Kim Euell, Dir of New Play Dev
50 Church St., Hartford, CT 06103

INSTITUTE FOR CONTEMPORARY EAST EUROPEAN SLAVIC DRAMA & TH EATRE
Grad Center, CUNY
33 West 42nd St
New York, NY 10036

JEAN COCTEAU REP
Bob Hupp, Artistic Director
330 Bowery, New York, NY 10012

JOHNS HOPKINS PRESS/PAJ
2715 No. Charles St
Baltimore, MD 21218

MODERN INTERNATIONAL DRAMA
Geo. Wellwarth & Anthony Pasquavillo, Eds.
Theatre Dept, SUNY-Binghampton
Box 6000, Binghampton, NY 13902

NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE ARTS
Eleanor Denegre, Theatre/Musical Th Specialist
1100 Penn Avenue NW
Washington, DC 20008

NEW YORK THEATRE WORKSHOP
Mandy Mishell, Lit Manager
79 East 4th St., New York, NY 10003

NORTHLIGHT THEATRE
Brian Russell, Assoc Artistic Dir
600 Davis St., Evanston, IL 60201

OREGON SHAKESPEARE FESTIVAL
Lue Morgan Douthit, Lit Associate
P.O. Box 158, Ashland, OR 97520

PEN AMERICAN CENTER TRANSLATION COMMITTEE
Karen Kennerly
568 Broadway, Suite 401
New York, NY 10012

PERFORMING ARTS JOURNAL
Bonnie Marranca & Gautam Dasgupta
Co-Publishers/Editors
Box 260, Village Station
New York, NY 10014

SAN DIEGO REPERTORY THEATRE
Todd Solovey, Literary Manager
79 Horton Plaza
San Diego, CA 92101

SEATTLE REPERTORY
Kurt Beattie, Artistic Associate
155 Mercer St., Seattle, WA 98109

STAGES
Marcella Mehard, Dramaturg
1540 No. McCadden Pl
Hollywood, CA 90028

THEATRE EMORY
Vincent Murphy, Artistic Prod Director
Annex C, Emory University
Atlanta, GA 30322

THEATRE MAGAZINE
Erika Munk, Editor
222 York St., New Haven, CT 06520

UBU REPERTORY THEATRE
Francoise Komilsky, Artistic Director
15 W. 28th St, New York, NY 10001

YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS
P.O. Box 209040
New Haven, CT 06520.

SUBMITTING YOUR PLAY: THE MOST NECESSARY EVIL
by Gary Garrison (October 1997)

Thanks to The Dramatists Guild Newsletter If you're Tony Kushner, Terrence McNally or Wendy Wasserstein, announcing to the world that you've completed a new play must be like announcing to your family and friends that you're pregnant. The shrills of good cheer must be deafening. And with good reason. You've proven you've got damn good genes, you've been heralded, even awarded, for your previous offspring, and everybody wants to have a baby just like your last nine. Anytime I write a new play, I timidly let it slip out somewhere between "pass the salt" and "it's good split pea soup, don't ya' think?" Fortunately, good friends know me too well and inevitably ask, "So what's it about?" After I've spit and sputtered over my soup, I usually arrive at a dignified answer. It's always a challenge to answer that question - "What's it about?" - and yet now more than ever playwrights must be able to answer that question directly, concisely and with enough compelling language to make even the most overworked and burdened literary manager respond to your letter of inquiry and synopsis with "Yes, we'd like to read your play".

Whether you're submitting your play to a friend of a friend who is the cousin of the assistant literary manager at the Mark Taper, or you're mailing it out to a small theatre in Who-Knows-Where, U.S.A., that you suspect won't be in business by the time your submission arrives, submitting your play to theatres for their consideration is a necessary evil. It demands that you put your artist-self aside long enough to become a conscientious businessperson. I discovered this shortly after a rewarding production of my full-length play, When a Diva Dreams, here in New York. After months of rewriting, and then finally seeing it up, still tinkering with it during production, and doing a final rewrite after it closed, I was convinced that the play was finally in good enough shape to send it out. What I didn't realize is that there is a whole system, an entire code of "playwright behavior", that has to be in place in order to effectively submit your play and then graciously wait for a response. There are too many of us (playwrights) and too few of them (theatres who routinely produce new original work). Therefore, your first task is to make your work known in such a way as to invite not only the submission of your current play, but any other work you might have.

This starts with taking the time to research where and how to submit your play and then BELIEVING and honoring your research. My first reality check came with the awareness that there are several fundamental truths about submitting your work that you cannot bend, reshape, re-conceive or distort: 1. Submit what the theatre asks for, nothing more, nothing less and make it easy for them. Remember, you're trying to sell them something on their time. What's typically included in a submission package is a letter of introduction and inquiry followed by either a synopsis, and/or pages of dialogue, or the full text. If you read the Dramatists Guild Resource Directory or the TCG Dramatists Sourcebook and the description notes that the theatre is not looking for kitchen sink realism, BELIEVE IT. If the description says that you should submit from January to May, BELIEVE IT. If the description says that it'll take six months for a response, BELIEVE IT (then add two or four additional months). If the description says "agent submissions only," BELIEVE IT. If the description requests 10 pages of dialogue, don't send 15. If it says that the company is looking for plays with six characters or under, why would you send a play with nine? Do you think they won't see the other three? Or do you think that they'll be so taken with your play that the three additional characters won't matter? BELIEVE IT! THEY WANT SIX OR UNDER! Every artistic director and literary manager that I've had the pleasure of doing business with remarks consistently that writers either don't understand, read, believe or honor their submission descriptions.

2. Query Letter - The query letter is a business letter of introduction that (a) isn't cute, (b) isn't rambling, (c) isn't bitter and (d) isn't so long that they might as well have read the play. But it should be (a) short, (b) direct and (c) acknowledge their particular interests and why your play is suitable for their consideration. This introductory letter is their first exposure to your writing. Don't blow it off because it's only a letter. And if it's just a letter of inquiry, include a SASP which gives the theatre a choice: either "Yes, we'd like to read your play", or "No, we're not interested in this project". Then, all someone has to do is check the appropriate reply and mail it back.

3. Synopsis - You have to learn to write a synopsis of your play. I know... I know, we all collectively hate that. But if you do your research, you'll see that more and more theatres do not want you to send your play - they want a synopsis. And they want a good synopsis that tells them the idea of the play, the style or genre, a brief description of the characters and a description of the central conflict. Things to avoid: "This is an uproarious comedy..." - let someone else be the judge. Also, a five page synopsis = one-minute of attention before it's tossed. Keep it short, probably a page. Finally, don't be so clinical as to induce stasis. Use every creative writing skill you've ever been taught and seduce the reader into wanting to see more. If you have any questions about your synopsis, give it to somebody who knows your play and ask for a fair assessment. You didn't write your play without feedback, so why chance the synopsis?

4. Pages of dialogue should be able to stand alone dramatically and must represent the effort of the play. If a theatre requests pages of dialogue instead of the full text, what they are asking for is an opportunity for you to demand they read more. So what should you send? The opening? The climax? The end of act one? This is your call, but what I'd suggest is that scene that made you weep for hours or laughed until you cried while you were writing it. However, make sure that the scene can be understood out of the context of the full play. If there are too many inner-textual references to events or relationships in the play that the reader has no knowledge of, the chance for confusion (and disinterest) intensifies.

5. A full-text submission should be secured in a binder (not CLIPPED), with page numbers visibly printed, with a cover page including your name, address and phone number, followed by a character breakdown on a separate page, and finally, the text of your play. On the inside back jacket of the binder, staple your SASE - interns and literary managers will thank you. Provided that you've given the theatre exactly what they asked for, and that your play is perfectly suitable for their theatre, and you've done your professional best to present the work in the most attractive way, there is one unavoidable reality: you might not hear back from them. Ever. Or it'll be months and months before you hear from them. Discouraging? Absolutely. But it's very real. Who knows what happens? After I had done my research for DIVAS and narrowed down the theatres I thought would be interested in an (1) ensemble comedy with (2 seven women that addresses issues of (3) family and race that is set in (4) one location, I submitted everything from a simple letter of inquiry to a synopsis to pages of dialogue to over 80 theatres across the country. Of the 80, the results were: 32 said "yes, we'd like to read the work", 28 said "no, we're not interested", and 30 I never heard from. Of the 32 who said "yes, we'd like to read the work," 10 followed up with "we read the work and it's not for us," (I wrote a "thank-you-anyway" letter). Eleven followed up with "we read the work, we liked it a lot, but we're not doing it" (I immediately wrote a thank you letter and of course asked them if they'd be interested in reading another play of mine), 5 said "we'd like to hold on to it for further consideration" (I'm still waiting, but I haven't called; I won't call; you shouldn't call; DON'T CALL!), 4 are still reading it (a year later, go figure), and two have committed to a production (they'll get my first born). With the 30 I never heard from, I wrote a second letter expressing my continued interest in their theatre with a gentle reminder of my submission. I've now heard back from 12 of the original 30; 18 are still missing in action, and though I'm tempted t list every one of those theatres by name, I'm well aware that there are many small to medium sized theatres that are truly dying out daily or struggling just to stay alive.

Submitting your work to a theatre is business. We're talking time, money, energy, effort, patience, perseverance and so much that has so little to do with writing a play. But now I know how. Is it worth it? You bet - I'm looking forward to those two productions. Are there shortcuts? Please, let me know. Can't my agent do this? He is - we're both doing it. He does the "agent submissions only", I do the rest. The way I see it, the more eggs in the bowl, the better the souffle. Is it hard to stay positive? Of course. Can you beat the odds? Of course. Would you give up if you got no response? No way. I'm a writer. I've got something to say. And I want to share it with as many people as I can.

"CAVEAT SCRIPTOR": LET THE PLAYWRIGHT BEWARE!
By Patricia Lin (November 1997)

So... you've written a play, which, after countless re-writes, finally catches the attention of a theatre (most likely a "nonprofit" one) willing to say that they are interested in you, and in developing your work with a possible eye toward production. You are thrilled. You are assigned a "dramaturg" whose "job" it is to do "whatever necessary" to assist you in realizing most fully that play which you think you've already written. An additional mission of this dramaturg will be to shepherd you through his/her particular theatre's "development" process. Great! You and your dramaturg meet. His/her input is positive, supportive and helpful. You learn things about your play you never realized were buried between its lines. You explore these insights... you and your dramaturg, who has now taken on the role of sounding board, research assistant, personal spell-checker, and outside critical "ear", teacher, mentor, and best friend! As a result of your work together, your script changes substantially. It becomes "viable" for production, the theatre with which your dramaturg is associated schedules it into their next season, and your play opens to critical acclaim! Terrific... until your dramaturg sues you for co-authorship, based on the contributions he/she has made to your show during that time the two of you worked to develop it into the finished product that it is today.

Such is pretty much the scenario which formed the basis for the recent court case brought by Lynn Thomson against Jonathan Larson's estate. Ms. Thomson, a dramaturg for New York Theater Workshop, claimed that her contributions to the musical RENT, (which had been acknowledged by Mr. Larson during his lifetime) were sufficient that she should be accorded a right to joint-authorship of the musical hit property, and 16% of the royalties. Although the court ultimately denied Ms. Thomson's claim, the issues raised give a glimpse of important questions which must be addressed regarding the role of the dramaturg and his/her relationship to the playwright whom he/she is assisting.

Dramaturgs commonly fill staff positions at theatres in France, England, and Germany. For the most part, in the United States, a commercial theatre does not make use of their services. Since the 1960's, however, nonprofit U.S. regional theatres have discovered that dramaturgs can provide invaluable support when it comes to realizing their dual mission of presenting classic plays and of developing new works for presentation to their audiences. A dramaturg is the person responsible for doing whatever is necessary to help the theatre which employs him or her to realize the best possible production of whatever show that theatre has engaged to produce or develop. A Ddamaturg is also charged with insuring that the audience have the theatrical experience which that theatre has anticipated. To insure the proper "theatre experience" a dramaturg may be asked to write program notes, lead post-performance discussions, and make reading/research material available to whomever might benefit from it .... cast members included. During rehearsal, the dramaturg may find him/herself functioning as an advisor to the director ... focusing on those elements which relate to the "broader" aspects of the production, (thereby freeing up the Director to hone in on whatever "narrower" elements of the show might require a director's undivided attention).

As mentioned before, most "nonprofit"s have a ;dual mission. With regard to the "classic" portion of the mission (and the theatre's season), a dramaturg may be expected to serve as an advisor to the Artistic Director ... by suggesting which works to produce, which translations or texts to use, and which way to go about adapting a selected work for the modern stage, (should such an adaptation be necessary). With regard to the "new works" portion of the mission, the job description may overlap that of the Literary Manager's, as the dramaturg may be called upon to solicit, read and recommend new scripts to the Artistic Director. A dramaturg routinely works with the theatre's "new playwright" to assist that person in "better realizing" their play. To "work with" does not mean "to re-write". In fact, what a dramaturg does not do is to change a playwright's words. In the world of the theatre, the playwright is sole owner of his/her material. No changes may be made to any material without the playwright's express permission.

So why the court case? Thomson was employed to be a dramaturg by New York Theater Workshop, and paid for her work in that capacity. The issue came about when Thomson felt that her "contribution" to RENT was worth 16% of the royalties, because it was the intention of "herself and Mr. Larson that their respective contributions be merged into an inseparable whole". Therefore, she claimed, each intended the other to be a "co-owner of the work within the meaning of the Copyright Act"! By now, Mr. Larson was dead and RENT was making millions of dollars. In point of fact, the presiding judge, the Honorable Lewis A. Kaplan, became convinced that Thomson did make a substantial contribution to the show ... a contribution which, according to testimony, Larson himself was reputed to have acknowledged. Fortunately, for the Larson estate, the judge's opinion decided that, as a matter of "law", Ms. Thomson failed to prove that, "despite ... his warm feelings and high regard for Lynn Thomson", Larson never intended for her to "have the sort of interest in the product ... necessary" to make her a joint author. His opinion was based upon two criteria. According to a case known as Childress v. Taylor, the Copyright Act defines the criteria for "joint authorship" as simply an "intent by two or more parties to merge their work into an inseparable ... whole." In a related decision, an additional criteria for "joint ownership" allows that the parties had to "entertain in their minds that they are joint authors"... however vague the phrase "entertain in their minds" might be. So the questions before the judge were: 1) Must the contribution of each author be able to stand alone, or is it sufficient that the final product (the sum of the authorships) be copyrightable? 2) Must each joint author intend that he or she be a co-author of the work? 3) Do the joint authors each intend for his or her respective contribution to be merged into the work?

In fairness to Thomson, she was not claiming to be the dominant creator of RENT. She acknowledged that the overwhelming share of credit for RENT's success and acclaim belonged to Larson. Her claim was based upon the help she afforded Larson in shaping the material into the viable (1995) version of the script .. a version which is acknowledged as a radical transformation from its (1994) workshop draft, and which was not a "producible" product. So, what kinds of evidence were meaningful in forming Judge Kaplan's opinion that "necessary intent" had not been formed, and that Larson both retained and intended to retain at all times "sole decision making authority" for his work? Among other items were the following:

1) Earlier in RENT's developmental history, Mr. Larson had refused to accept a "book writer" to assist him in fulfilling his theatrical vision for this musical.

2) There was never billing or credit given Ms. Thomson on any of the typed copies of the manuscript (which Mr. Larson himself prepared and which never confused Mr. Larson's authorship with Ms. Thomson's role as Dramaturg). Certainly Ms. Thomson's name never appeared on any title page of the work, much less anywhere near a page which contained a copyright notice of any kind.

3) In the bibliography which Mr. Larson submitted for the Playbill 9 days before his sudden death, he described himself as "author/composer". In this same document, he listed Ms. Thomson as "dramaturg".

4) As late as Nov of 1995, Mr. Larson felt free to enter into contractual agreements with the New York Theater Workshop on his own, without the consent of, or any reference to, Ms. Thomson.

5) According to his contract with the New York Theater Workshop, Mr. Larson had sole approval over changes in text, and furthermore, "any changes in the text (were to) ... become his property." In this same contract it is provided that he will receive billing as "sole author".

For playwrights, the message should be clear. The role of a dramaturg should be exactly that. This is the service which they are paid to perform, by their employing theater. There are situations where the relationship with a dramaturg is outside a theatre environment. There are situations in which one or both parties wish to establish a relationship more than, or different from, the one defined by the theatre. In both cases, that playwright should make sure that the newly conceived relationship, as well as its attending responsibilities for each party to the other are spelled out ... in writing! When it hasn't been contractually agreed upon between you both, beware! That hand you suddenly feel tickling the inside of your pocket may not be your own! (For complete text of District Judge Kaplan's decision see http://www.dramaturgy.net/RENT/Decision-Full.html

WOMEN PLAYWRIGHTS: HELPING TO EVEN THE ODDS
by Linda Eisenstein (April 1998)

Lots of women don't like to use the F-word in public: "feminist". But when we get together and speak among ourselves, every woman playwright I've ever met, from Juneau to Jakarta, admits to one truth: it's tougher for us to get plays onto the stage. Some of it is artistic. Women's plays are frequently shaped differently, evince distinctly female ways of showing and resolving conflict, or are about topics that may not spark the hot-button interest of the male A.D.'s who put together seasons. Our women characters may indeed gather around the lowly kitchen sink, or act in ways that make people uncomfortable. As Theresa Rebeck has noted, even our profanities seem to weigh more than Mamet's. Then there's the genre itself: how theatre actually gets made. Most playwriting apprenticeships require immersion in the world of the stage: long hours at rehearsals, late nights away from home, post-performance schmoozing.

It's no sociological accident that women have historically dominated the novel, which could be written in the privacy of their homes. Creating a stageworthy play is more public, takes more hands-on involvement, and requires access to theatrical resources like actors, directors, space. There's ongoing negotiation and relentless networking with a host of people - not just a relationship with an editor. Moreover, to be successful in this craft, we women have to battle our own upbringing and social convention. We have to overcome the "womanly" art of modesty, buttonhole producers, court mentors, stand our ground with directors; to deal with rejection in the daily mail and keep pushing our works at people anyway; to assume our plays, even flawed, are worthy of contests.

At last summer's International Women Playwright Conference in Ireland, a woman producer from the prestigious Abbey Theatre told us: "Women get the first rejection from us, even an encouraging one, and fold. Men will keep sending us plays for the next 20 years." I know this is true. I nearly didn't enter my play THREE THE HARD WAY into the Gilmore Creek Competition; it surely wasn't "good enough yet" for the $2500 prize it eventually won, out of 400 scripts. I'd be a lot poorer if I hadn't. Working as a woman playwright under these conditions is like learning to push rocks uphill. To ignore the reality that the slope is steeper isn't just haive; it can lead to more counterproductive self-blame. But we need to recognize that our work is important, and the world needs to hear it. So we'd better learn to exercise those muscles.

PLAYWRITING TIPS
from Neil Simon's autobiography (August 1998)

The central tip is captured in the title, REWRITES. Neil emphasizes that he likes the opportunity to hear what's wrong and rewrite to get it right. His first play was completely rewritten, start to finish, twenty-two times. The playwright must really know the characters. In discussing his first play, he mentions that one observer told him that he had to know what the characters did , where they went, etc. when they were not on stage. In discussing a play with which he personally was dissatisfied, he said it "failed" in his eyes because he did not "see" where the characters lived, what restaurants they went to, where they shopped. He repeats earnestly the advice one pro gave him: your play must be . about something." Usually it's best if every character in the play meets every other character at least once.

The play must, in the first ten minutes, establish the tone and then be faithful to it. Character comes first, story grows out of them, then theme. Protagonist and antagonist (when there is one) must be equal adversaries, and the audience must be in doubt as to who's right and who's wrong. Let audiences make discoveries for themselves. Simon discusses using a personal experience to give birth to an idea for a play. He suggests using it as a starting point to let the imagination roam, turn.it in your mind into someone else's experience and see where it touches a nerve, makes a point of identification with others. Never try to make comedy funny; "honesty will do nicely".

WHY I SHOULDN'T WRITE PLAYS
by playwright David Ives. excerpted from article in New York Times (Thanks to Joe McCabe)
(October 1998)

Getting my new show up and running gave me ample time to work on my well-worn list of 99 reasons to hang up my pen and clean windshields in Peru.

An excerpt:
7. Actors. I can think of no group more valiant or more fun. Unfortunately, there are only 36 of them left in New York, and 32 are unavailable. Of the remaining four, Actor A passes on your script, Actor B is too tall, Actor C demands his own dressing room, and Actor D is dead. Your director, who initially suggested Goldie Hawn for the male lead, advises you to make an offer to Actor D. Actor D, though dead, passes.
12a. Reviews. All reviews should carry a Surgeon General's warning. The good ones turn your head, the bad ones break your heart.
28. Directors. There are now 11 left in the New York theatre. Of the three who are available, Director A passes on your play, Director B is waiting for a call from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", and Director C is dead. You are forced to hire Director C.
62. Political Correctness. Somewhere around 1967, America inhaled and the theatre has never een the same. In my current show, one character jokingly calls another a "Philistine". A crew member informed me that this was an unacceptable slur on Palestinians.
62a. Gender Trends. There are now 17 recognized sexual orientations, and God help you in you and your reviewers don't see navel to navel on this matter. A student once told me that heterosexuality is just a vicious if dull form of repression. I took poison.
99. Opening Nights. You'll suffer light-headed nausea and the guy in front of you will fall asleep scowling. Someone in Row 3 will hurry out right after lights up, calling "Cab!" as he goes up the aisle. During the curtain call a woman will say loudly, "That wasn't so bad." Waiting for the reviews, you will decide to be a Turkish bathroom attendant, only to find out that the job's been taken by somebody named Moliere.

17 SUREFIRE WAYS TO GET YOUR SCRIPT REJECTED
by Linda Eisenstein (from Practical Playwriting) (February 1999)

1) Write a play with nothing but unpleasant characters. Make sure there is no one onstage that an audience could possibly like or want to spend time with. If they wanted to be comfortable or happy, they should have stayed home.

2) Choose a topic that you think is marketable but you don't really care much about. After all, a playwright should be able to crank out something mildly entertaining without a strong point of view.

3) Write a play that requires a realistic set change every three or four minutes. Or that has at least two or three insurmountable props, like a driveable car that goes on and off stage. Or lots of cool special effects.

4) Don't include a cast list at the front with the names and number of characters. After all, you wouldn't want the theatre to be intimidated by the cast size right away. Let them discover the vast army of characters by reading the play. Make sure there are plenty of characters that have only one or two lines. After all, actors need work.

5) Don't number the pages, either. Let the theatre guess how long it'll take by hefting it. Anyway, 160 pages isn't all that long, is it? Especially when the play is in 5 acts and 23 scenes.

6) Leave the pages loose, or stuck together with a paper clip that easily falls off. (This is especially effective when you've been diligent about rule 5 above.)

7) While you're at it, invent your own play format; the one from Samuel French or Dramatists Sourcebook is sure to be too confining. Be creative with your spelling and grammar, too. All of this will show an irrepressible original mind at work.

8) Open you play with several pages of stage directions, in long impenetrable blocks. Describe the sets and furnishing with such numbing detail that the set designer will know exactly where to buy the priceless antiques you need for scrupulous authenticity.

9) Make sure that the first 10 or 15 pages is nothing but exposition or trivia by minor characters. Most audiences don't settle in or stop rustling their programs until 15 minutes into the play.

10) Put in lots of stage directions for every speech, indicating exactly how you think an actor should say the line. Example: JANE: (coyly) No. JOHN: (very angry, but holding it in) Why not? JANE: (flirting more hesitantly now) Because. JOHN: (swept away with passion) All right, then.

11) Be sure to include at least one 3-page monologue, per character, in every scene. And do keep all the characters onstage whether they have anything to do or say in the scene or not.

12) Make the dialogue as generic as possible. You might, for instance, write an absurdist play where all the characters are named MAN and WOMAN 1,2, 3, etc. and they all spout general philosophical abstractions until it's hard to tell their characters and dialogue apart. That way it will be intellectually deep and universal and everyone will be able to identify with it.

13) Alternatively, base your play on your own life, particularly your frustrations, and how no one understands and appreciates you. Don't change anything; people need to experience unvarnished reality.

14) Print your script on a dot-matrix printer in which you haven't changed the ribbon in years. Use a "creative" font, like all italics or cursive. Then photocopy it on the lightest possible setting, to conserve toner.

15) Send your script to every theatre you ever heard of. Don't bother finding out what kinds of plays they usually do; they're bound to love your masterpiece, no matter what. After all, everyone, from a radical experimental company to a Shakespeare festival to a community theatre that only does musicals, NEEDS to experience your gripping 53-character historical play about Civil War amputees.

16) Diligently follow up by calling the theatre every week or so until you're sure your script has been received and read. That way the staff will be sure to remember your name.

17) Leave your address and phone number off your script, and don't include a self-addressed stamped envelope, manuscript-sized for return of your script either. That way, you'll never have to face rejection - because the theatre won't be able to find you.

DEB PRYOR AT SUNDANCE
(April 1999)

Forum 2's Deborah Pryor, now a graduate of AFI's film school and a resident of Los Angeles, recently attended the Sundance/Slamdance Film Festival, hawking her new film. Park City, Utah is tiny. It's a rich people's ski town. There is no rampant development, and no ugly buildings mar the view of the mountains. When they see you coming down the sidewalk, the people who live there know that you don't. Yet at the end of January, the town stands as an unconvincingly smiling host to one very famous film festival, Sundance, a smaller one called Slamdance, and a handful of smaller ones yet, with names like "No Dance." Everyone in the entertainment industry is rumored to be packed somewhere into that narrow little valley.

This year, to my surprise, I was among them. While going to the American Film Institute, I wrote a half-hour script that was filmed by one of the directing students, Zev Berman. He did an outstanding job and subsequently the film, ANGELMAKER, had been invited to Slamdance.. Zev and I drove up to Park City through wave after wave of mountain ranges. The town was so full that we thought ourselves lucky to have been offered a place to sleep in a neon-filled warehouse in nearby Salt Lake City.

The first and most important order of business was shameless self promotion. I had to learn to overcome my ever-present fear of arrest, and walk up and down the main street staple-gunning blue flyers to every stationary object I met. Every day for a week began with Zev and me plastering our flyers overtop the flyers that had been plastered over ours the day before. During the afternoon and night we saw films at Slamdance, and at Sundance if the precious tickets became available. A highlight was the presence one evening in the Filmmakers' Lounge of a real live porn star named Stacy Valentine. A documentary about her life was one of the Slamdance entries. For a few moments, the down-to-earth quality of our festival got pushed back toward the wall like an intelligent but homely girl at a party, as men click-click-clicked their cameras at the beautiful woman wearing lime green snowboots apparently made out of poodle fur.

At night, the most important thing on our agenda occurred: parties. I might at one time have meant this jokingly, but I'm dead serious now. The parties are where the actual work gets done. Zev's very good at this, so I got my introductory course in Hollywood business dealings by following him around the various parties he got us into. Every waking moment, you were encouraged to talk up to people you didn't know, some of them famous, and introduce yourself. We were even given pep talks by the kindly Slamdance administrators, telling us not to be shy, and I progressed greatly from my usual position as Mole-Person. But by the time I was at the last party, with its laser lights, twelve video screens, live DJ, pounding soundwaves and dance floor full of people waving like a bed of coral, I backed up a flight of stairs and flattened against the wall for air. From there I saw Zev working his way through the room. Doing business.

TOP 10!
(April 1999)

The Drama League has ranked 20th-Century English-language plays in order of greatness. Half of the league's roughly 1,200 members compiled "personal top 10" lists of straight plays and musicals.

NON-MUSICAL PLAYS
1. Death of a Salesman
2. A Streetcar Named Desire
3. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
4. Angels in America
5. Long Day's Journey into Night
6. The Glass Menagerie
7. The Crucible
8. The Iceman Cometh
9. Our Town
10. Waiting for Godot

MUSICALS
1. Oklahoma!
2. A Chorus Line
3. West Side Story
4. My Fair Lady
5. Show Boat
6. Guys and Dolls
7. Cabaret
8. Gypsy
9. Fiddler on the Roof
10. Porgy and Bess

PUBLIC READINGS & FEEDBACK
by Jeffrey Sweet (June 1999)

The literary manager of the Dilson Valley Repertory Theatre calls you with good news. She likes your play. The company would like to put up the money to fly you out and provide you a berth in a comfy bed and breakfast while you and the director they've assigned to you work together. This is part of a series, she tells you. One Monday night a month, the company's mem-bers, subscribers and friends gather to watch a group of actors with script in hand do a rehearsed reading of a new play.

And after the reading, she (the literary manager) leads a discussion with the audience with the writer participating. A talkback. My opinion? Readings are great. If you're offered one and you've got sufficient reason to believe you'll be working with good actors, grab the opportunity. More opinion? Audience talkbacks, more often than not, are either worthless or destructive.

If you have to agree to the talkback to get the reading, grit your teeth and do so, but prepare yourself for the likelihood that you'll have to sit through a lot of comments, most well-intended but also mostly aggravating. I'm not saying the audience has nothing to tell you. I'm saying that the audience tells you most of what it has to tell you during the reading itself. You watch their posture; see when they're leaning forward and when they're slumping. Look for when a rash of confusion spreads across their faces. Note whether they laugh, and if they laugh when and how you hoped they would. Try to gauge when the play lands and when it fails to connect. It is while your piece is being given this little bit of life in front of a group of (one hopes) perceptive and sensitive people that you're likely to get valuable information. Usually, not during the talkbacks. But then, talkbacks are not really for you, the writer. Frequently they are required by the grant subsidizing the series. Or they are part of a theatre's desire to increase the audience's emotional investment in the company.

Most of all, talkbacks are for the audience. The opportunity to get up and instruct and enlighten artists can be very satisfying. Nothing wrong with this. Everybody needs to be validated. But the ability to express an opinion is not the same as the ability to express an opinion of value. But why should one assume that people who haven't made a study of technique are likely to offer much by way of guidance in technical matters? They aren't experts on the building of plays. What they can offer you with authority is the effect of a play on them, and this they have done during the reading itself. To expect them to tell you how to solve your first act curtain is akin to expecting them to offer a composer useful guidance on how to develop an orchestral piece after hearing the playing of a piano sketch.

If you ask for the audience's reactions, that's what you're going to get - a lot of "I liked this" and "I didn't like that" with some general adjectives tossed around. But, if you have to submit to a talkback, and if you can have some input into the process, here are a couple of suggestions: Try to confer ahead of time with the literary manager about the way it will be run. If you can, for God's sake, keep her/him from opening the session by asking the audience, "What do you think?" Instead, formulate some questions to ask the audience. Specific questions like, "Who do you think the central character of the play is?" "What do you think she wants?" "At what point did you realize the nature of the relationship between Morris and Beverly?" Notice that none of these questions is intended to elicit a response about the quality of the work, but rather about what the audience thinks it understands about the information you've placed on the stage. You may actually get some insight into the gap between what you intended to convey and what they get.

If, for instance, you learn that the character Lena whom you intended to be seen as the lead's imaginary companion is being read by the audience as her real-life half sister, that lets you know that there is something wrong with the way you've introduced Lena. The audience won't tell you how to address the problem, but it's useful to learn that the problem exists. Whatever you do, when you're sitting on that platform facing them, resist the impulse to defend your work. Resist the impulse to answer back to someone who bruises your feelings or insults your baby. You probably don't know who that person is. He could be the artistic director's boyfriend. She could be a member of the Board and might have something to say about the budget for next season. The theatre is by definition a social phenomenon, and given the way so many of us are connected, it generally is a good idea to make no unnecessary enemies. If you do attempt to counter a criticism, I promise you the person making the comment will repeat and rephrase it with more heat and passion and others in the audience may join in and a hailstorm will commence. In my experience, you're best option is to respond with, "Hmm, that's interesting. I'll think about that." Good luck in Dilson Valley.

GUERRILLA MARKETING:
The Internet and other off-road opportunities by Linda Eisenstein (August-October 1999)

My friends call me the CyberQueen. In the past few years, I've had scores of productions and readings -- from California to Canada, England to Australia -- all by cruising cyberspace from my computer in Cleveland, Ohio. I'm happy to share my secrets. But before I can give advice on HOW to use web sites, email, mailing lists, and chat rooms to your advantage, I need to share the WHY: the rules of "guerrilla marketing". These 3 basic rules aren't just applicable to the Internet; they're based on 17+ years in the theater business, as a long-time producer of new plays as well as a working playwright.

1. THEATERS DON'T PRODUCE YOUR WORK. PEOPLE GET YOUR WORK PRODUCED. Let's talk turkey: theater is an insider's game. You can't just sit home licking SASE's, hoping for a miracle through a blind query. Getting a script done is mostly a matter of getting your work to the right person, someone on the inside who is able to leapfrog over the regular channels. I've had over 75 productions and readings all over the world -- but guess what? *Less than 20%* happened via an unsolicited mailing, and most of those were play contests. No matter what a theater says is its "best way to submit a script" -- agent, synopsis, unsolicited script -- the very best way is to have an inside advocate push for it. An advocate who remembers your name and falls in love with your play will spread it around, line up supporters, sidestep reading committees and deadlines, and fight for it to be approved. I worked for a decade as literary manager and a chief in-house producer at Cleveland Public Theatre, an alternative organization that specialized in risky new work. There were plays the Artistic Director and I loved which never got produced, because we never found the right production team. Then again, there were plenty that *did* get produced that we were only lukewarm about, because someone brought in a project with a passionate pitch -- usually a director, but sometimes even an actor. This is true at every theater. Season selection is an act of balance and compromise involving a small but influential group of players. Figuring out who they are, and getting one of them on your side, is the fast track to production.

2. THINK SMALL For every big-name theater listed in the annual market sourcebooks, there are 10-20 other potential opportunities that fly below the "LORT Radar". College students who need pieces to work on. Idealistic young production companies that hang together for a few outings before they dissolve and re-form. Freelance directors who regularly propose and direct work at several theaters in their area. Small theaters that don't want to be deluged with scripts because they have no paid staff, so they don't advertise. Community theaters that might occasionally take a flier on an unpublished script. Because virtually no one approaches them, if you know something about them, your chances are better than average. IF you have an inside advocate. (See #1.) If you're a beginner -- or simply not yet a household name -- you need to seek out every off-road, unheralded, "low status" opportunity possible. The more alternative the venue, the more risks people are willing to take. Forget about marketing your first play to a big regional theatre: it's nearly always a waste of stamps. You need to be a grassroots guerrilla, willing to work in 50-to-99 seat spaces, where it's no big deal if you fail while you learn. (Note: Some publications like The Dramatists Sourcebook or Market InSight for Playwrights list the number of scripts a theatre gets annually: pay close attention to the smaller fish.)

3. TIMING IS EVERYTHING, OR THE SUDDEN DESPERATION SWEEPSTAKES. Picking plays is often a race through a timely window of opportunity. Forget the image of a roomful of readers slogging through a 60 foot pile of scripts, winnowing finalists down from 500 to 50 to 5 to the happy winner. Only well-funded play contests operate this way. Instead, things like this happen. A sudden hole appears in a theater's schedule -- a director drops out, or a new play isn't ready, or a scheduled play's rights get yanked. For whatever reason, there's a void, and someone must quickly make a decision, usually within a couple of weeks. An anguished howl goes up: "Anybody heard of any good plays lately?" Bang! It's headless chicken time. Will everybody in the theater suddenly be assigned to divide up the slush pile of unread scripts so that cobwebby box of 500 is read and commented on, in the hopes of finding something decent? No way! As soon as the right somebody gets her hands on THE FIRST SCRIPT SHE REALLY LIKES, that script will get plugged and pushed and circulated like wildfire until a decision is made and everyone can breathe easy. If you can get your script into this, the Sudden Desperation Sweepstakes, it's not competing with every script in the universe. Instead, it only has to come to the attention of one of the key people who is looking. If he likes it, he might read 2 or 3 more, max, then decide to spend his time lobbying other people about YOUR script instead. In this model of play selection, it's serendipity and insider word-of-mouth that prevail. A play that might never even be considered in the regular process suddenly rises to the top because of a combination of advocacy and timing. Now: how in blue blazes does a no-name playwright find those advocates, those unpublished possibilities, those small unknown theaters in far-away cities? Much less slide through a window of opportunity that no one besides a few people inside that theater even knows exists?

PART II
I've found the Internet to be an ideal way to circulate scripts, get interest in productions, and make theatre connections - so effective compared to other methods it's near-miraculous. Why?

1) It's diverse. You meet people on every level - university teachers and students, top. professionals, struggling semi-pros, dedicated amateurs - in all areas of thatre, not just writers.

2) It's specialized. You meet and deal with a select group that shares your unusual interest: working on live theatre.

3) It's responsive and timely. Instead of scattershot mailings that may sit for months, even yeas, in coffee-stained piles, you can reach someone within hours of their plea for new material.

4) It's geographically distributed. You can reach Australia as easily as Cleveland. I have; one of my one-acts was produced in a Melbourne festival before I had even printed it out for my Cleveland friends to read.

The Internet is a virtual universe, comprised of the millions of computers around the world that can dial up to a link and be instantly connected to every place else. Your "cyberspace resources" are actually a host of services - global electronic mail (e-mail), discussion mailing lists and newsgroups about theatre and performance, theatre sites on the World Wide Web, scheduled interactive on-line chats, and much more. There are plenty of places in cyberspace to hang out for a playwright interested in getting plays around or participating theatre-related chat. They're like a continuous 24-hour global cocktail party/message center - where anyone can dial up and read what the last 100 people scrawled on the wall, add a comment at their leisure, get in an argument or public discussion for everyone to see, or reply personally by e-mail. It's a "lurker's" paradise, because for every person who posts messages, there are probably 20-80 more who just read them, chiming in only now and then.

Here's a real message from an on-line sessions: "We lost the rights for our opening show. We've been through every play in the catalogue looking for a replacement. Please Help! A comedy would be a plus and it should have six or less characters. There is a larger female acting pool in town so the more women's roles the better. A simple set is also advantageous. Pleas e-mail me with ideas. Thanks."

Recognize this? Yes, it's a version of The Sudden Desperation Sweepstakes. The key to an item like this is: don't dawdle! I sent back my reply immediately - a few paragraphs describing my script, pointing out it was a near-exact match to their stated needs. Did it pay off in a production? Not this time. (It made the final 3 - maybe another year.) Those few friendly exchanges also gave me a lot more information about other small theatres in the area that might be interested in my plays. My Houston production made it from first contact to contract in - gasp - 5 weeks, a record. But when the director (my advocate) wrote me recently, he reminded me that we had exchanged some e-mail pleasantry nearly a year earlier, on another topic. I didn't remember it, but it bears noticing: on the 'Net as in life, what goes around comes around. A little "netiquette"

Cyberspace is oddly intimate and cozy. Strangers are conversational and familiar, and after you've exchanged a few friendly paragraphs with them you're often treated as a bosom buddy. But it's deceptively private: the mailing lists and bulletin boards are VERY public. After you've spouted off, you suddenly realize that it's much like publishing your banal, top-of-the-head conversation