The year was 1999.  After more than a year of applauding each other’s work in the Kitchen’s Tuesday night developmental lab under the nurturing hand of T. Jay O’Brien, a mutual admiration society had formed. And this society soon had a name: Playwrights 6 (or P6 to its friends).

Each member ponied up $100 for the kitty, and producing assignments were divvied. One would find a suitable theatre. One would design the postcard. One would handle public relations, another finance. The show, an evening of six one-acts, would be called MAYHEM: in part, because the show was scheduled for May, but mostly because no one had a better idea.

It was determined that six playwrights, along with a dozen or so actors, could likely fill a 65-seat theatre with friends for two performances.  A sexy photo of the clad-in-black scribes strolling through an alley like a literary Mob Squad magically landed in the Los Angeles time with a “Best Bet” headline. The theatre gods were smiling.

But there was turmoil. One playwright wasn’t ready as opening night drew near, and the drama on stage got a front row seat to the drama off stage. But the proverbial show must go on, and it did. Albeit to a half-empty house one night, because one overzealous actor made reservations for dozens of no-show friends, would-be agents and imaginary casting directors.

And thus Playwrights 6 learned its first valuable lesson: choose your “play”mates carefully. And always overbook the reservations.         

There would be many more lessons to follow.  When you rent a theatre, expect to clean the theatre. Even when you sit down and agree to a certain set of rules and parameters, someone is going to break them (and become rather self-righteous and indignant when you point it out).  And if you use anything fragile on stage – be it martini glasses, a wine bottle or a toilet – it will break during a performance. So always build a broom and dustpan into your set design.

Of course, there were triumphs as well.  The first Critics Pick. The first award nomination. The first time a production turned a profit: still an astounding feat in the Los Angeles 99-seat theatre scene.            

With each new production – be it a group show of one-acts, a single play or 2 full-length plays running in rep – things got a little easier, and P6 gradually earned more recognition.  Co-productions with established theatre companies in LA proved to be prudent ventures: sharing the risk, sharing the costs, sharing the workload, sharing the critical kudos.

Throughout all this growth, two things remained consistent: the company motto “True to the Word” and the firm belief that actors were so important to playwrights that they shouldn’t be asked to contribute financially or perform sweat equity. The playwrights would do the heavy lifting. Actors would only do what they did best: breathe life into the words.

These beliefs have served Playwrights 6 well: through its baby steps, growing pains, the decision to leave the Playwrights Kitchen and create its own writer/actor workshop, the leap to non-profit status, the first grant awarded to the company, the first revolution that almost destroyed the organization from within, and the slow rebuilding that continues even today.

In the past few years, Playwrights 6 has been featured in American Theatre magazine, LA Stage and the Dramatist. Since 1999, P6 has mounted 23 productions. This year, this company celebrated its anniversary with its 24th show: a special members-only performance inviting every playwright, actor and director who has worked with the organization to attend.

The evening was filled with nostalgia and laughter, as triumphs were toasted and tragedies were lampooned. There was wine, but no spaghetti. And as I looked at the faces of my compatriots (yes, I’m a proud co-founder), I marveled at how far we had come, how much we had sacrificed individually and how much we had accomplished collectively. 

It’s funny: we’ve been Playwrights 6 for ten years now. But we haven’t had six playwrights at the helm since that very first show. Maybe that’s a goal for the next decade.

Larry Dean Harris
lharris@dramatistsguild.com

Any worthwhile endeavor in theatre needs people, and the folks at PCSF wear lots of different hats. Board members for this 501(c)3 not only help guide the long-term vision of PCSF, but they also roll up their sleeves and get to the immediate and creative task of putting local writers’ work on its feet. Alina Trowbridge (Board Chair), Patricia Milton (President), Jennifer Roberts (Secretary), Rod McFadden (Treasurer), Jason Jeremy (Member at Large), Soumyaa Kapil (Member at Large), Michael Behrens (Member at Large), Brian Tognotti (Member at Large), Meg O’Connor (Administrative Director), Sara Staley (Producing Director), Suze Allen (Dramaturg and Producing Director), and Chas Belov (cyber guru) are all truly friends to playwrights everywhere.

This eclectic group represents a wide cross-section of theatre professionals: writers, actors, singers, directors, filmmakers, web designers, sound designers, and arts administrators. With all this talent, it’s no surprise that PCSF offers outstanding opportunities for playwrights. As testimony to this high quality of programming, numerous plays that first breathed life at PCSF have gone on to win awards, and members’ plays have found many productions with other companies, including New Conservatory Theater Center, City Lights, Three Wise Monkeys, Unidentified Theatre Company, and Killing My Lobster.

Founded in 1980, The Playwrights’ Center of San Francisco has helped a multitude of writers over the years, and PCSF continues to evolve and grow. Their website has useful free downloads, and the weekly email blast lists submissions, “shout outs” detailing member success stories, and a wealth of excellent information. The Bay-Area theatre scene is vibrant and alive, and Playwrights’ Center of San Francisco has been helping to keep a door open to all playwrights who want a place to call their own.

Happy 30th birthday! Here’s to 30 more.

Scott McMorrow
smcmorrow@dramatistsguild.com

PTC will produce the world premiere of Bess Wohl’s Touch(ed), directed by Charles Morey, January 8-23, 2010, as the first in a series supported by the New Plays Initiative. It’s a story of a sister’s attempt to re-connect with a beloved older sister, who has been hospitalized with mental illness and suicidal tendencies over the years, on a 30th birthday celebration in a cabin in the woods. Elizabeth suggests that it’s a serious play of ideas, and yet it’s witty. It raises questions about what it means to live your own life and explores the idea of “functioning” in society. “Bess has such skill with language,” says Elizabeth. “I felt this play was ready to go when I read it. It had had workshops and readings, but no production. This is the first of other productions that will follow.”

The New Plays Initiative reflects PTC’s commitment to new plays. There’s no quota of new plays per season, but the company supports readings, workshops, and commissions. Elizabeth describes the way the company works with a new play they’re interested in: “We ask, ‘Where is it?’ and ‘What does it need?’” The end goal of the project is to produce new work. Elizabeth receives submissions from agents only. She continues, “We’re here to read plays, to build the new play program, to make new relationships with playwrights, and to produce good work.” In January, Elizabeth will also direct Brooke Berman’s Out of the Water, the first in a series of new play readings that the Initiative will host this season.

Because I’m particularly interested in connecting students with new work, I asked about the challenge of ticket prices. A student can see a movie for around ten dollars here, but tickets at a professional theatre are well beyond what most students can afford. As a student in England one summer, I remember seeing 98 plays because of the affordable student ticket prices. PTC addresses this issue through a variety of programs. Following a ten dollar annual activation fee, University of Utah students can receive up to two tickets for: 1) a free Thursday preview, 2) fifty percent off tickets Monday-Thursday, or 3) five-dollar student-rush tickets on the night of the performance. Students from other area colleges are eligible for ten dollar rush tickets. In addition, PTC provides up to 2,000 free tickets to Salt Lake County high schools and middle schools for each production. High school students may purchase half-price tickets on Monday and Tuesday nights. The theatre also plans to include University of Utah students in discussions of plays and new play readings.

Char Nelson
cnelson@dramatistsguild.com

During the G20 Summit, when every other artistic institution and many businesses shut down, Bricolage, in the heart of downtown’s theatre district and steps away from the global discussions happening at the Convention Center, kept their doors open. Instead of joining in the screaming, anarchist poop-throwing dumpster-rolling protests, Tami (who had participated in her share of protests during her time as an actress in New York and as a steering committee member of THAW Theatres Against War) wanted people to shut up and write it down. So they created a haven, a place of quiet reflection, covering the walls and floors with white paper. At least one word on the wall was the price of admission.  Three hundred people came, including diplomats writing in their different languages.  The next day protestors from those countries responded in kind. Tami was even featured on Chinese television saying, “we need less talking, more listening.” While the protesters rolled dumpsters down Baum Boulvevard, Bricolage was hosting a “global conversation” on Liberty Avenue.

This is just one example of the spontaneous, open-door, responsive spirit of Bricolage.  Past events have included readings, workshops, or productions, which they’ve either hosted or produced. They’ve also included stand up comedy, concerts, and artist installations, such a workshop for local artists with Guillermo Gomez-Pena of La Pocha Nostra during the Three River Arts Festival. They are used to thinking outside the box—so far outside the box that their Midnight Radio Series was not reviewed by local critics, despite being one of the best-attended events this summer, because the critics didn’t know how to categorize the performance. A series of nine radio dramas written by local playwrights (including Guild members Sloan McRae, Robert Isenberg, and myself) were staged in a competition over the summer in front of a live audience, which culminated in a “Smackdown” for the audience favorite. (You can hear the winning radio play by Wali Jamal as a podcast on the Bricolage website). The theatre hopes to continue the series as an ongoing part of their programming.

When our conversation turns to In The Raw, the latest in their free programming, watching Tami and Jeffrey brainstorm is a lesson in how one “makes artful use of what’s at hand.” As they threw ideas back and forth, building and revising off of each other, Jeffrey suddenly turned to me and asked, “What do you think?” My response became part of the bricolage. Essentially a play lab that evolved out of their previous reading series, In the Raw is an on-going exploration of how to best help the artists that they care about. Tami and Jeffrey see themselves as a “resource,” helping local artists help themselves.  They offer space as well as promotional assistance through their website and connections with their solid audience base, who are always ready to come to the next free event. But they remain open to other, yet-to-be-imagined ways of moving playwrights and their work to the next stage, of giving them a start and then sending them out into the world.

In the four years that Bricolage has been at the 937 space, it’s developed not only an audience, but also a cadre of artists and projects to support. The next big production,  Great White, by Matt Morrow, is a twelve-person opera, inspired by the events of the 1916 New Jersey shark attacks. Bricolage is also hospitable to new friends who knock at their door. In November, they enthusiastically hosted the Dramatists Guild town hall meeting and our first PlaySlam. Hearing the diversity of voices and recognizing the spark of creative energy in the room, both Tami and Jeffrey expressed an interest in hosting future Slams. In short, what they’ve started with Bricolage is an ongoing, multi-partnered conversation with the community. I invite you to go downtown to Bricolage, introduce yourself, see what’s going on, and involve yourself in the conversation.

For more information about Bricolage, 937 Liberty Avenue:  www.webbricolage.org

Tammy Ryan
tryan@dramatistsguild.com

Charles Newell, Artistic Director of Court since 1994, has directed over 30 productions. He and his colleagues are committed to discovering, and rediscovering, the power of classic theatre, and they are also prolific producers of translations and adaptations of classic texts. A recent conversation I had with Charles revealed a lot about the sort of work that excites him, as well as the passion he holds for expanding the canon of this work through initiatives such as the Barbara E. Franke Commissioning Program for New Classics.

Douglas Post: You’ve been with the Court Theatre for fifteen years now. What sort of changes in programming have you put in place since you’ve been here? How has the aesthetic of the theatre shifted? What have you been working towards, and what do you continue to work towards? I realize that’s a lot of questions all at once.

Charles Newell: It is. Let me see if I can be succinct. When I was brought here from Manhattan to be the Associate Artistic Director of this theatre, it was clear to the then- Board leadership and to Nicholas Rudall, the founding Artistic Director, that, after over 20 years of leading this theatre, what Nick really wanted to do was to be less involved in the day-to-day running of the theatre and to return to teaching. And I was extremely lucky, because in that first season, I directed Stephen Wadsworth’s translation and adaptation of The Triumph of Love. And so, with the graciousness of Nick and the Board, I was asked to take on the role of Artistic Director. Now, I’d been working throughout the country doing classic work, most especially at the Guthrie Theatre, and had spent eight years assisting an incredible slew of directors that I still can’t believe I actually got to work with. These were people such Mark Lamos, Liviu Ciulei, Lee Breuer, John Houseman, Michael Kahn, Alan Schneider, Lucian Pintilie, JoAnne Akalaitis, Garland Wright. They all had a strong point of view when it came to doing the classics. So what I brought with me was a desire for a national perspective that involved national artists. It was clear to me that Court needed a jolt of artistic and creative energy. And so, in 1997, I was able to ask JoAnne Akalaitis to direct Nick Rudall’s translation of The Iphigenia Cycle. And that started a more provocative and challenging approach to classic work.  Concurrent to that was a desire to elevate the quality of the staff that is here. And then, jumping ahead to 2003, together with the board and the university, we had this outrageously audacious idea that Court Theatre could become the national center for classic theatre. And who the hell are we to say that? But it has been a very animating and very inspirational and daunting vision to put forth for ourselves.

DP: Some of the recent translations and adaptations that have been produced at your theatre include Richard Nelson’s adaptation of The Wild Duck, SITI Company’s adaptation of Radio MacBeth, Lee Breuer’s adaptation of Mabou Mines’s DollHouse, Mickle Maher’s translation of Cyrano, and your own adaptation of Titus Andronicus.  What has been your experience with these undertakings? What’s been positive or negative?

CN: Here’s a story. I had commissioned Richard Nelson to do a new translation of The Wild Duck. And he was with us late in previews while we were all struggling with the end of the play. And Richard said, “Look, Charlie, I’ve already translated it the way I want to translate it, but clearly the geography of my text is not fitting the geography of your production. My geography is traditional, but yours is different. And I want to adapt my text to serve your production better.” Which, to me, was the most wonderful collaboration I could have had because, as I’m fond of saying, I usually work with dead playwrights, and they always agree with me. But for Richard, as a living playwright, to engage in such a generous way was thrilling, much more so than my imagined conversations with Moliere.

I think one of the challenges for classic theatre is that often, after ten or fifteen or 20 years, the translations start to get a little foreign. So we need to revive the classics and the classic translations with contemporary playwrights.

DP: And so for playwrights who are not Richard Nelson, both local and nationally, what doors might be open to them at your theatre regarding adaptations or translations or new ways of looking at the classics?

CN: Well, thanks to the truly visionary, philanthropic leadership of our dear friend, Barbara Franke, we now have the resources to commission new texts. Richard’s translation of The Wild Duck is the most conspicuous result of this program. But we also have a number of different projects in different phases of commissioning. The answer to your question, I think, is to look at the work that Court Theatre has done, look at our aesthetic, look at the artists that we have worked with, and, if you have an idea that you’re passionate about that is an adaptation or a translation of a classic text or idea or theme, we’re interested. We also have more ideas than we can ever possibly produce. I’ve got a bunch of ideas about texts that I want to have adapted or translated, but what I don’t know enough about is who is a good match for that idea. And so that also means that I need to be educated. What is your passion? What is your artistry? Don’t assume we know anything about what makes sense for you or what your work is. We also now have a Resident Dramaturg. His name is Drew Dir. He’s here as part of a joint appointment between the University of Chicago and Court Theatre.

DP: So, simple nuts and bolts. Somebody has an idea, and they don’t have a relationship with you or Drew or anyone at your theatre, what is the best way for them to approach you?

CN: Well, right or wrong, it’s rare that I will spend time with anything that’s unsolicited, so, right now, letters of inquiry are really the best way to go. I’m almost sure that we don’t have enough of a network with playwrights in Chicago, which, of course, sounds ridiculous considering how many talented playwrights live here and how much new work is happening. But, unfortunately, it’s an issue of staff capacity. If there’s a project going on with a playwright involved who seems to be a good match for what we do, we want to know. There’s a great way to be persistent without being a pain in the ass. 

DP: And it’s a fine line.

CN: It’s an extremely fine line. 

DP: You don’t have a literary department right now.

CN: We do not. But another way to get our attention is through a director. We’re constantly looking for directors, and playwrights who have an existing relationship with a director can often find themselves in our mix. The same can be said of designers. I recently had one of our regular designers contact me about a playwright he had worked with. And he said, emphatically, “Charlie, there’s this playwright. She’s really interesting. You’ve got to check her out.” And I said I would. So, it’s as simple as that.  And as hard as that. But I do look to all these people for great ideas and for great writers.

Douglas Post
dpost@dramatistsguild.com

Flash forward two decades, when I was working as a general assignment reporter covering the local theatre scene. Thanks to Gerald Freedman, Artistic Director of the Great Lakes Theatre Festival, I was able not only to see all the company’s work, but also to sit in on rehearsals and speak with the principals. Imagine watching Hal Holbrook rehearse Death of a Salesman with Elizabeth Franz. Or interviewing Arthur Miller for 45 glorious minutes. Or witnessing the legendary direction of George Abbott, when he restaged his 1926 hit Broadway in Cleveland, as part of his 100th birthday celebration.

The final inspiration came in 1994, during a late-night phone conversation. While my friend was describing her search for a sperm donor, I found myself imagining day-glow gonads parading across a black-lit stage. The next day, I requested a leave of absence from the paper to write a play about single parenting that (mercifully) remains in a drawer. Two years (and a better script) later, I was admitted to the Playwrights’ Unit at the Cleveland Play House, where I’ve developed my work ever since, in the world’s greatest Master Class.

Evidently, I had accumulated plenty of stories during my first decade of journalism. These became considerably more interesting when I was able to fictionalize them and send my censor packing. My experiences with Holocaust survivors found their way into The Interview. Members of the Greatest Generation inspired V-E Day. Colleagues and local politicians inspired my newsroom comedy, The Good Times.  I wrote often about real people, including native Clevelander David Berger, the lone American casualty on the 1972 Israeli Olympic team (A Form of Hope). My current project, U.S. v. Howard Mechanic, follows the journey of a high school classmate who became America’s last political prisoner from the Vietnam War era. Even stories that weren’t born in Cleveland were transplanted here to put them in a familiar context. Never did use the gonads.

Along the way, I have continued my journalism career, now almost exclusively about theatre. For eight years, I was theatre writer for Northern Ohio Live magazine, until it met the fate of a lot of print publications last spring.

I am particularly fortunate to live in Northeast Ohio, where the Cleveland Play House, Cleveland Public Theatre, Dobama Theatre, Karamu, and others have distinguished themselves as incubators for new works. The Cleveland Theatre Collective has a monthly Dark Room series, so named “to see what develops.” In Cuyahoga County, playwrights are currently eligible for a handful of $20,000 grants, thanks to a special arts tax on cigarette sales. Any way you look at it, we’re smokin’.

But we’re calling our newly designated region “Ohio” for good reason. The Ohio Arts Council has been unwavering in its support for individual artists, with $5,000 grants that I’ve been privileged to win three times. Ohio University and the Northeast Ohio Universities Consortium boast fine M.F.A. programs for playwrights. Columbus has the newly renovated Jerome Lawrence & Robert E. Lee Theatre Research Institute that collects, among other things, the work of playwrights, both well- and lesser-known. Dayton offers the annual FutureFest, a playwrights’ fantasy camp/showcase for six lucky artists selected as finalists. I’m sure the list goes on.

As the new regional rep of the Dramatists Guild, I am delighted to give national attention to the gifted writers who live and work all over Ohio and to the organizations that bring that work to the stage. Anticipate lively profiles in these reports, as well as news of exciting programs and services for what I hope will be increasing numbers of DG members.

I’m still available for walk-ons. My ten-year-old headshot is available at www.fayesplays.com.

Faye Sholiton
fsholiton@dramatistsguild.com

Luckily, Liz never lost her drive to write. Although she had a substantial body of work as a playwright prior to these two life-changing experiences, new work has been coming steadily, and I spoke with Liz about these defining moments in her life and the work they have inspired.

Meeting Todd in the maximum-security prison was “a revelation in many ways,” but in getting to know him, Liz was struck by “how creative the human spirit can be even when confined. Todd was funny and witty, and yet serious too, particularly about the conditions on death row and the questionable facts of his case. He was always doing things for other prisoners, writing letters and helping them out with their cases.”

Release Yearning, her play developed from interviews and visits with Todd, premiered at DiverseWorks in Houston less than two years after she met him. “I wanted to focus on the fact that prisoners are human, with a need for expression. There was so much life on death row.” Todd really appreciated the script. He wrote to her “It’s the first time I’ve seen my name in print where they didn’t describe me as a monster.”

Five years after her injury, Liz’s new short play, Nearing Velocity, was performed at the Alley Theatre in March 2008 as part of the 30th anniversary celebration of the Susan Smith Blackburn Prize. She began the play “belly-up, on my back, in the hospital, and immobile except for one toe. To keep myself sane and my imagination active, I started visualizing possibilities—characters, lines of dialogue, conflicts, what-ifs. When friends would come to visit, I would ask them to write down these imaginings for me. When a friend gave me voice-activated software, that freed me to write on my own again.” 

Nearing Velocity focuses on “the automobile accident from the perspectives of the various persons involved—myself, the young man, the passenger, hospital workers—a whole world of people coming together because of this event.” Other works written since the spinal cord injury are “Body and Soul, poetry from my notes that I put together for a solo dancer, Sara Draper. I narrated at her performance, even though I still couldn’t sit up well and didn’t have firm control of my diaphragm.” And later in 2008, “I wrote Match.Cripple, a one-act comedy with the main character from Nearing Velocity, starting to date again even though she is still wheelchair-bound. The audience responded well, and now I think these two one-acts can be linked together for a full evening.”

Since The New Yorker article, Liz acquired an agent, is reviewing movie offers for “her story with Todd,” and has started a memoir for Northwestern University Press. We expect, too, there will be new interest in producing her plays.  

Diana Howie dhowie@dramatistsguild.com

The D.C./Baltimore region had just such an occasion this past autumn when we held our first regional get-together at a local eatery. Kudos to my co-rep Renée Calarco for proposing the idea and finding a location that could accommodate our request for a private room.

We talked shop over the chicken salad and tomato basil soup, and we compared notes on past and present playwriting projects. I also gave an informal talk on some of the legal issues involved in the adaptation of pre-existing material for new plays. That’s a topic that’s popping up a lot now. It seems the well-publicized copyright infringement case involving visual artist Shepard Fairey and his President Obama “Hope” poster has artists of many media contemplating whether they’re at risk to be sued over something they might have appropriated…like somebody else’s story or song for inclusion in their own plays.

Typically, the first order of business when assessing whether a piece of intellectual property is fair game is to determine whether it’s copyrighted—and, if it is, to find out whose permission needs to be sought. In Washington, D.C., area, we’ve got the United States Copyright Office right here. If you go directly to the Copyright Office, you can search its records for free. If you don’t happen to be in the D.C. area, you can always hire someone to do the search for you, or you can even hire the Copyright Office to conduct the search.  When I last checked, the Copyright Office was charging $165.00 per hour, but some records are available for free on the office’s web site.

Oh!—but then I broke the heart-wrenching news to my fellow dramatists gathered at the autumn soiree: not all the world is the United States of America. The copyright records for many works are kept in the registries of foreign countries, meaning that just because you don’t find a work listed in our Copyright Office doesn’t necessarily mean it isn’t copyright-protected. Perhaps you’ll also need to hire someone to search the records of another country.

Hey, no one ever said copyright was easy. And, as I quipped to the dramatists seated around me, if we wanted an easy profession, we wouldn’t be playwrights.

Rich Amada
ramada@dramatistsguild.com

This idea of investment versus result came up again during a conversation with Atlanta-based playwright Vynnie Meli, who was one of those selected from more than 300 applicants to bring her new musical Plagued—A Love Story to the 2009 New York Musical Theatre Festival. She and composer Casey L. Filiaci watched their script come alive for seven performances at TBG Theater in October. The coveted audience members included prospective producers, artistic directors, and the press. This is a dream come true for any playwright with only one real caveat (other than the realization that in this hyper-collaborative genre, “writing a musical is rewriting a musical”): Meli had to raise $25,000 to pay for production fees. She’s put her money where her mouth is, and now that she’s had a taste of how things can be, she definitely wants more. Fortunately, Plagued got a very positive response from those on both sides of the footlights, so it should just be the beginning for this story of Cinderella and Prince Charming twenty years after the glass slipper incident.

In talking about all of this to a group of fellow playwrights who had been privy to the play during its development, Meli broached the subject of “success.” She’s had professional productions of three of her plays, the first one in NYC in 2003, and she was wondering about what point in a career a playwright could use the “S” word. Margaret Baldwin, with several professional productions of her own (and one scheduled for the 2011 Horizon Theatre season), suggested that each playwright has to “define what success means to you,” as there isn’t necessarily the same marker on every writer’s path or even a consistent marker for anyone. Baldwin mentioned that getting the opening “right” for the play promised to Horizon is going to feel like success for her and that when she despairs about not doing enough, there is a tough-love friend who says, “A production a year for the last five isn’t enough?” Baldwin admitted that she has to fight the urge to discount any work done at (even a stellar) college theatre.

Playwright Ray Fast brought up his recent selection as a resident artist at the famous Hambidge retreat as a personal sign of success. Both his work and his potential were recognized, and “the experience, at least in the eyes of some people, has raised my credibility,” he says. Fast’s investment was the two weeks of precious vacation time he is allowed each year from his day job, and he doesn’t yet know if the “unbelievable amount of writing I got done” will lead anywhere, but he considers it a fair return. With the attention he’s getting lately, I agree. Coming out of this conversation, I remembered that teaching is also an investment and began to fantasize about some former students jumping on a hot tip about this fab new musical.

Pamela Turner
pturner@dramatistsguild.com

Today, I’m starting a new list: literary managers that care. And I’ve found four sparkling candidates right here in Los Angeles to put at the top. 

I besiege you: don’t inundate them with submissions. Wait a few months, or maybe just take solace that they’re out there waiting for you to send that one super-special play. 

Aaron Henne and Brett Webster are Co-Literary Managers at The Theatre @ Boston Court in Pasadena, which does not accept unsolicited manuscripts but does accept queries only from SoCal playwrights (see bostoncourt.com for guidelines).  Both are playwrights themselves, but neither have been produced at the Boston Court. 

“I would love to have my work done throughout LA, the world,” Webster says, “but having said that, there is the literary manager side of me that is excited about finding other playwrights. I probably read twelve – 20 plays a month.”  Henne chimes in. “We’re all out there in the wilderness writing and submitting. Just keep in mind that on the other end of those submissions is a living/breathing person who – more likely than not – wants to appreciate your play.” 

Wait! Whoa! What?!?! 

It’s true. Talk to Jen Kays, Literary Director at Circle X for the last four years. Kays is not a playwright. “I am an actor who loves stories,” she says. “Battle Hymn, our last production, was a play that I read and fell in love with and championed.  I made a love connection between Jim Leonard, a local playwright, and the director John Langs. They did a workshop together.   That was an exciting production for me, because the play wasn’t finished, so the playwright was part of the process and was there for all the rehearsals and tech.  We’re fulfilling his imagination. As a lit person, that’s my dream.” 

Unfortunately, Circle X no longer accepts unsolicited scripts, because it is a volunteer company. They accept plays from agents, and Kays keeps her ear to the ground. She attends readings, accepts invitations from playwrights via Facebook, and she reads blogs.  “Playwrights are the best advocates of playwrights. Playwrights have blogs, and I read them.  It’s a national community.”  Henne and Webster read blogs, too. Including Frankswildlunch.blogspot.com by LA-based playwright Kyle T. Wilson. 

Now Laura Flanagan (also an actor, not a playwright) has only been Literary Manager at The Open Fist for six months, but she’s read a lot of plays in her career.  “In New York, I was on one of the reading committees for New Dramatists. As part of that process, you read about 500 plays. So you get to know a lot of writers out there.”  When the Fist decided to produce its first New Works Festival this season, Flanagan called on New Dramatists for recommendations. 

Surprisingly, Open Fist does not have a submission policy.  “We only get two or three submissions per month, because we’re not known for new work.  We have a committee of three or four readers.” 

So let’s cut to the chase: what exactly are these literary managers looking for? 

“First of all, good writing. The level of the writing needs to feel like there’s something special about it,” says Flanagan. “I have to feel like I’m reading something from someone’s heart.  You can feel the force of the need behind the writing.” 

“It’s all whether or not the story moves us,” says Kays.  

“Things that jump out at us here are plays that are uniquely theatrical. Plays that use language. We like plays that are big on ideas and don’t necessarily live in a realistic landscape,” Webster says. 

“Most of our work often plays with time and space,” Henne adds. “Once a season, we usually do a reimagined classic or an adaptation of a classic.”  “Uniquely theatrical” is an expression that pops us often in our conversations. 

So what are their turn-offs? “Dumb things like spelling mistakes. If I open the script, and the grammar’s wrong, it’s gone,” say Flanagan. “Another turn-off is if I can immediately feel the influence. ‘Ahhh, another This Is Our Youth.” 

“When people don’t put character pages in their indexes, it drives me crazy,” says Kays. 

“I do get frustrated when something is obviously not in the world of what we do,” Henne offers. 

But then Kays counters, “Sometimes when I read a play, I think ‘is that even possible?’  But then I give it to Tim Wright (Circle X artistic director) and the company, and they go crazy for it.” 

Flanagan ends our conversation – and this article – with the perfect summation. “I’m always impressed with someone who has a clear vision of the play itself. Not that it has a message, but that it has a clear vision of what it’s doing onstage. Even if it’s three teenagers in a room.  That can be fabulous if the language is rich enough and the need behind it is compelling enough.”