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On Sharing My Work

When I was a new writer, I’d send my plays to friends and then patiently wait for them to get back to me. When they finally did, they’d often tell me they liked the play, and I was so grateful for their enthusiasm. When you’re an emerging writer, enthusiasm counts for a lot.

But I learned that if I sent a first drafts to one of my mentors, I’d receive a very different response. They’d pointed out where they got lost, scenes that lacked conflict, places my writing was on the nose. Bob Moss, founder of Playwrights Horizons and one of my first teachers, always started out by asking me “What is this play about?” Of course, that was exactly what I needed to hear. Eventually, I began to ask myself the same question when I started a new play. I still do. If I can’t answer it 20 pages in, I stop and regroup. I ask myself, “What the hell is this play about?”

Now when I send my work to a friend or colleague, I include a list of questions I have about the piece. It’s a short list and varies depending on what I want to know, but I always try to be specific. Here’s a sample:

--Did the structure work?

--Did the ending pull up too fast?

--Was the conflict between the two main characters believable?

When someone wants me to be their reader, I always ask them, “What am I reading for? What are your questions?” My daughter recently finished a paper for grad school. She sent it to me and told me she had 90 minutes to devote to a rewrite. She had no time to pull apart the structure. She wanted to know if I could follow her line of thinking and if her conclusion was clear. So, I read with those questions in mind. And that worked for both of us! I didn’t spend hours making line edits she wouldn’t have time to implement. Instead, I gave her feedback she could incorporate in an hour and a half.

Notes are helpful but conversations can be even more important. I have built relationships with smart, generous, colleagues and friends who are willing to talk honestly with me about my work. Bring people like that into your life and you’ll feel as lucky as I do. To be a reader is to make a commitment to an artist! For goodness sake, after they give you feedback take them to lunch!

Two things I never do: I don’t sit near someone who’s reading my script. Not even in the same house. I get jittery. I pop up behind them and ask, “Does it work? Do you like it?” That annoys the hell out of them. I also don’t share for the sake of sharing. I don’t give someone a first draft to catch them up on what I’m doing. I did that as a new writer, too. But a play isn’t meant to be read on the page, it’s meant to be performed. Ditto for a TV script. It’s supposed to be shot and watched. If you’re trying to entertain someone, reading will only give them half the experience of your work, if that.

Some of my students writing memoirs send their work to friends or family members to confirm certain facts they’ve presented. I think that’s smart. Their goal is to capture the truth.

When I send my work out for feedback it’s because I’ve exhausted what I know about my idea, my premise, my characters, and I want to know more. I want to know what my story stirs up in people.

I don’t always agree with my readers’ opinions. Another mentor of mine still thinks the three men offstage in THE SMELL OF THE KILL should be onstage. But I’ve also learned that a reader’s taste and my taste may not always line up and that’s OK.

After I finished the original version of this essay, it looked a lot different from what you’re reading now. For one thing, it was twice as long!

I sent it to two insightful, wonderful people. After reading it they both suggested that I had more than one essay in there. They saw possibilities I hadn’t yet.