Whenever I hear a play referred to as a playwright’s “baby,”
my skin crawls just a little bit. It’s
the same feeling I get when I hear a child over the age of 10 called a “baby,” and
I get it for the same reason. It
suggests a desire that the “baby” not grow up, not go out into the world, not
be tested, not succeed or fail as it merits, and not become independent of its
creator.
Yes, the script development process can be discouraging, and
productions can go horribly wrong. A good
script in the wrong hands can be enough to make you stop writing. So yes, the instinct to protect one’s creation
is natural and healthy -- but only up to a point.
I’ve seen too many authors fall into the same traps: they micromanage their productions, abuse
their directors and treat their actors like marionettes. To
them, their internal vision is true north and everything else is a
deviation. If you are a creative person and this is what
you believe, then my advice to you is “Don’t be a playwright.” Find
some other creative outlet where you’re not so dependent on other people’s
interpretation of your work. Theater
works best when everyone on the team takes turns creating, clarifying, adding
depth. The
vision takes on flesh and becomes less perfect, but more real. That incarnation -- that miraculous
incarnation -- is what everyone on your team is there for. It’s what your audience comes for. They are not there for the playwright. They are there for the play.
IMHO, the greatest achievement a storyteller can have is to
lose ownership of the story. To create something of such value that everyone
else lays claim to it. They re-tell it. They reinterpret it. They make it a part of themselves.
Is your script ready for production? Is it tight and stageworthy? Then it is no longer your baby. It is your 18 year old going off to college,
stumbling its way to maturity. It is
heading out into the big, bad world, and for both your sakes you must start
letting it go.
