Like Any Writing, Theatre is a Long Game

In the theatre, there are many ways to be told no. And maybe. And both can take a while before either turns to yes.

(Yours truly on stage at The Red Sandcastle Theatre, Toronto, in 2022, filming Making It Up (One Playwright to Another). Photo by Cameron Ballantyne.)

In1982, I read the book that made me want to write. Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant by Anne Tyler. From the first observation, (“You should have got yourself an extra mother.”), I was charmed and drawn in by Tyler’s offbeat style and bittersweet content. (John Updike dubbed her “a witch”.)

Fast forward to 2021, I secured the Canadian stage rights for an adaptation. I wrote a draft in Liesl Lafferty’s online writing workshop in 2022. The breadth and landscape of the play was wide-ranging, with, in my initial version, about twenty characters with half as many actors. (In a later revision, I reduced it to seven actors.)

Since the scale was epic (the family saga sweeps along from the 1930’s to the 1970’s), I was advised to target some of the biggest theatres in the country. With input, I prepared a slide-deck to focus the pitch.

What really was a discovery for me was how much time was needed to market the script. I thought I could write the play and approach theatre-makers, they’d read it, and say yes or no.

I’ve been discovering how in the theatre, there are many ways to be told “No”. And “Maybe”. And both can take a long time before either turns to “Yes”.

Many of the theatres I approached did not respond at all. Some said no due to the cast size. (Anything over five in this economy is probably going to be problematic.) One theatre told me they read the pitch, and then stopped communicating.

Once I got permission to do so, I thought outside the box and also approached Baltimore theatres, since Baltimore is where Anne Tyler resides, and where the novel (like most of her books) takes place.

It was no different from Canada. Some theatres did not respond. The one that did only responded after I hounded them with emails, snail mail letters, and phone calls. All this attention garnered an email response from the Artistic Director who complimented me on my tenacity. Due to the Baltimore-centric tale, he said he would look at the script.

That was in April 2024. No contact since. I’ve been told to keep reaching out to him; he probably got busy and forgot. (I’ve even been sending postcards about my current projects to keep connected.)

What was I doing wrong?

One of the best “tough love” tips a more experienced (produced) playwright gave me was “They don’t know who you are. They’re not going to work with someone they don’t know.”

Based on this sage observation, I rifled through a mental list of who I knew in Toronto theatre. I hadn’t realized how much utilizing a network was going to move things along.

I shared the script with a Toronto writer/actor/teacher (as I was, but they were far more imbedded in the industry). They read the script, twice, (they called it “deft… authentic…unusual”) and I took them for lunch. We brainstormed names and narrowed down some likely opportunities. When I balked at creating more emails (having had my share of being ghosted), they reminded me they would be sending the recommendation, not me.

Their contacts were interested, due to their recommendation. In one case, it was a busy actor of note who promised to read the script as soon as their schedule calmed down. (They did read it, after a couple of months, and they were complimentary for sure.)

Another theatre company that was interested after my colleague’s nudge did not initially get back to me. I went to see one of their productions, and though the Artistic Director was absent, I turned out to know someone else with the company who was in attendance. He said to send the script to him. Note to self: go to the theatre. Especially opening nights.

As of this writing, about three local theatre companies have the script in their hands. This is in addition to actors who have read and championed it. It’s also entered in some significant competitions, one of which got back with specific compliments, and suggestions for improvement. (The others’ deadlines are pending.) I’ve also been advised to work on the play in an artistic residence (like the Banff Centre) because it adds to the unproduced script’s resume and pedigree.

Community and building on the synergy the play creates through that connection is everything.

I’ve since revised the script for five actors. (Still seventeen characters though, at this writing.)

Do I have a reading or workshop lined up? It’s all currently in the works with no definite opportunity presenting itself yet.

Yet. Like all writing, it’s a long game.

Stay tuned.

If you’re curious about the play, here it is. (The five character version will replace it soon.)