Erin Sheilds: Winner of the Governor General's Award for her play "If We Were Birds"

What inspires you as a playwright? Where does your motivation come from?
I’m inspired by what’s around me – people, stories, news, politics, art, my family. I also take great inspiration from other works of literature and art. I love to interact with other texts – usually older texts – working to figure out how that those stories, ideas and perspectives impact my life today. Archetype is important to me as a writer.

What is your writing process? Is it basically the same for each play or does the script affect your process?
The process does change according to the piece. Often I work in cycles of development and performance with a company: devising work in studio, going away and writing, bringing it back into the room, working with designers from an early stage, bringing that work to an audience, drawing from that interaction, going back to my computer, reimagining, restructuring, rewriting, trying it with actors and designers and directors until … it feels ready for production. Other times I do all of this work by myself, taking the piece from draft to draft with input from a dramaturg and/or director. It depends on the piece.

What are your most productive writing habits?
Starting first thing in the morning and writing until three or four in the afternoon. I take short breaks and limit my internet access. I don’t believe in ‘writer’s block’. I just write.

However … I have a toddler and another child on the way. My writing habits are much less particular than they once were. I write whenever I am alone.

What derails you?
My daughter waking up from her nap. Knowing I have to get my protagonist from point A to point B, knowing there’s a major gap in the action, not knowing how to fill that gap. Isolation. Noise/music/sound. Feeling like I don’t have enough time.

When revising a draft, what are your stumbling blocks and how do you push past them to the next draft?
I have become obsessed with premise, structure and action. Aristotle would be proud. When I feel like I’m waffling – I don’t know how to get a character where I need her to go, I don’t know what I’m saying with the piece, I don’t know where I’m heading – I revisit my premise, story arch and outline to make sure all of the big pieces are in the right place. Then I go back to writing. I also come from an acting background, so if thinking for a number of characters at one time is becoming difficult, I think about each character’s objective in the scene and play. That usually helps.

What role does the dramaturg play in your process?
It depends on the play and the process. Often my dramaturg is my director. He/she has the most immediate and three-dimensional perspective on the work so if we have the luxury of readings or workshops, the director becomes a central ‘question asker’. When I am working with larger theatres, I find the company dramaturg plays multiple essential roles for the playwright. Often the AD will not have had time to go through the text thoroughly from draft to draft. Dramaturges make time. They love it. And they’re good at understanding how the play has transformed from one draft to another. Those dramaturges are therefore in the best position to talk about the work; to ask provoking questions that will inform the next draft. Often I find they act as a translator for the AD’s questions or concerns or thoughts. And they can champion work they feel passionate about and influence programming choices. Dramaturgs and literary managers are great.

What do you wish you knew about playwriting / theatre ecology when you started out?
Find your collaborators. Make your work. Produce it yourself.

How has winning the Governor General’s award affected your career?
My hope is that it may help my work may find a larger audience. It’s only been two months though. I’ll get back to you.

Has this award affected your writing process?
No.

Female playwrights are not produced as often as their male counterparts. Why do you think this is? Has the GG helped you get past this glass ceiling or is it still in place?
Artistic Directors program seasons. Most Artistic Directors are men. They program work they find to be most interesting. Most of that work seems to be by men. We need more female Artistic Directors who program work they are interested in. In the independent theatre community – where I self-produce much of my work — there seems to be a healthy balance between male and female playwrights creating and producing work. As I move on in my career, I am seeking more opportunities to have my work produced by larger theatres. I have not yet felt limited or excluded in that context because of my gender.

What is your most effective marketing tool?
Producing my own work and getting as many people out to see that work as possible. If We Were Birds was first produced at the Summerworks Theatre Festival by my company Groundwater Productions.

What upcoming projects are you working on?
I’m mid-process on many pieces: an adaptation of Kate Chopin’s The Awakening; a multi-disciplinary, bilingual (English and American Sign Language) Victorian Gothic Horror; a two-hander about sex tourism; a vaudevillian ensemble piece about Annie Edson Taylor, the first person to go over Niagara Falls in a barrel; and an adaptation of The Epic of Gilgamesh.

Writing a play in 24 hours sounds like an impossible task that would appeal to only a few people. Yet this year we had as many people on the waiting list as taking part in the contest itself. Why would any one do it? How do you get through the process? Is it really worth doing?

To learn the answers, we asked this year’s first-, second- and third-place winners –Allie Bell, Cody Sears and Evan Bawtinheimer — to share their experience and tips. Their approaches are as diverse and the scripts they produced. The only response in common is they’d all do it again.

What was your goal in taking part? Did you achieve this goal?

Allie: I wanted to take part in another 24-hour theatre writing extravaganza. I participated in the Toronto Fringe Festival 24-hour writing contest, and I wasn’t happy with the results. I didn’t feel I was true to myself as a writer in that process, and I wanted to enter another contest of the same style, to grow from the results of the first contest. Whether or not I achieved my goal is up to the audience.

Cody: I’d have to say one of my biggest goals, besides actually finishing the play, was to maybe get a little recognition and a chance to move forward with my writing. I’d say I achieved that goal. Both of them, actually.

Evan: My goal was to learn more about how plays are structured to deliver information to the reader/audience. When I write a play, before I write anything down, I listen to characters for months, understanding why they use certain phrases, tones, attitudes. This time is difficult to condense into 24 hours. It was the excitement of the freedom to choose a form, or a combination of multiple forms, and extend it to an unknown theatrical end that draws me to competitions such as this. Did I achieve that goal? I wrote a play following the journey of a rock. (I’m quite happy.)

What aspect(s) of the 24-hour format appealed to you?

Allie: I really enjoy the quick turnaround, because so many contests have you waiting months for results. There is an appealing immediacy about this format, and I feel my work benefits from strict deadlines.

Cody: The deadline. Work, for me, can be a bit crazy, and finding the time to sit down and write has been a struggle, so the fact that I only had 24 hours as opposed to 3 weeks really helped.

Evan: The impulses. My creative impulses are always stronger than my pre-planned thoughts. Once you give over to the Theatre Gods, your impulses reward you with pitch-perfect theatre. Also, the little bits of humour that come from complete exhaustion. When they blend with the story, they’re pure gold.

How did you prepare for the contest? Or did you?

Allie: I had an idea of what I wanted to write about, so I was mentally prepared, and really I was looking for an excuse to lock myself away and write it.

Cody: Once I decided on my idea for a play, I looked up some quotes that I felt hit at the heart of what I wanted to write, and made a little playlist of music that evoked my ideal mood for the piece, just things that would keep me on track. Then I just thought about it. A little bit everyday, made the conscious effort to take a few minutes to let my imagination go and dream up all kinds of things that might make their way into the play.

Evan: I read plays. And I read plays. (And I read plays.) I read anything. I read dozens of plays, mostly Canadian ones, and analyzed their structures. Afterwards, I picked my favourites and explored. The three plays that I could not forget during the competition were Robert LePage’s Polygraph, Guillermo Verdecchia’s Fronteras Americanas, and Hroswitha of Gandershiem’s The Conversion of Thais the Whore. These three plays took theatrical leaps and bounds higher than a living-room or courtroom drama play structure. I combined the forms, found some wonderful people to explore, and after drafting a simple plot-line, I began writing.

I did not have a story before I entered the contest. I’m currently studying at Brock University and knew that I would write a play on an idea that I learned in class. It would have either been a play involving rocks or cultural anthropology. I wrote a play about a rock.

How the 3 secret words play into your writing process? Did they help or hinder you?

Allie: My primary goal with the three words was to get them out in the first twenty pages, mostly so I wouldn’t forget to include them in a sleepy stupor. But, I also didn’t want the words to dominate my writing and thought process, so I waited until there was a natural fit in script. I’m not the type to cram things into a sentence because I have to, which is why I appreciated the unobtrusive nature of this particular contest, and the words themselves. I truly felt it was a control for the contest and not a hindrance for my writing.

Cody: The 3 words were more just a means to an end. They had to be there, so I put them in. I didn’t shrug them off, mind you, I tried my best to work them in as a part of my actual writing, and not just add 3 stand-alone lines for the sake of having them there. They were neither a help nor a hindrance, mostly because I kept my focus on what I wanted to achieve with the play, and didn’t let the other 11,023 words in the play get held back by 3.

Evan: Oh, I loved the words. Loved them. Loved them. Loved them. I spent thirty minutes learning their definitions, synonyms, antonyms, anything that could inspire the work, including pictures of water, diagrams of perpendicular lines and letting the word shift melt on my tongue as I repeated it ominously. (I haven’t done that in ages.)

The secret words helped me narrow down the very general topic of “rocks” to specific concepts of erosion, change, and connection. I felt that those concepts can be connected to minerals as well as to family, friends, and lovers. Like rocks, don’t all relationships change, erode, and connect over time?

What tricks did you employ to stay focused?

Allie: I think I’m a little crazy because I willingly write for 12 or 14 hours, so adding a few more hours was no big deal… even though by 2 in the morning there were little dots where my computer screen once was, so I took a two-hour nap. I think it is important to allow a brief period of incubation before editing, so the writer is able to remain critical about the piece.

Cody: I don’t know if these were tricks or not, but I just set up a little workstation on our dinner table and setup everything I might need — snacks, pillows, water _- so then I didn’t have to let myself procrastinate by looking for things I didn’t really need. Yeah, I guess it’s a trick.

Evan: I wasn’t able to take one foot out of my room without thousands of thoughts continuing the story, cutting and pasting, and keeping my mind active. I kept thinking and watching the characters move about on the stage in my mind, asking questions and not taking any idea for granted. The more you think and ask the more focus you achieve. If I was silent and still on the outside, you better believe I was buzzing and talking on the inside.

What surprised you the most about the process?

Allie: Winning. I wasn’t expecting it. In fact, I almost passed out when I read the website.

Cody: I wasn’t surprised that at about the 6 hour mark I hated what I was writing, but I was surprised that at the end of it all I had a product that I felt fairly comfortable with. It’s not perfect or even that good yet, but I feel it’s definitely the outline of something that might come to life someday, and I can’t help but feel surprised about it.

Evan: I was able to take a small nap, wake up, and still know precisely what I wanted to write and where I wanted to write it. I don’t imply that I had dreams about the play (I should be so fortunate); rather, that I quickly became familiar with the story and my choices that I had to guide their pursuit and not back down until every character in the play was exhausted from trying too hard to achieve their wants.

Would you do it again?

Allie: With Pat the Dog Playwright Centre, YES! Absolutely!! I recommend this process to anyone. It was, and continues to be, an amazing experience.

Cody: With my schedule, It might be the only way I force myself to sit down and write anything. I’d do it every week if I could.

Evan: If you aren’t offering it, I’ll do it again purely for the spark. If you are, then yes. Hell yes.

Photo © alexkerhead. Published under a Creative Commons License.

What do you look for in a script?
A good story. Something that excites my imagination and starts me thinking “theatrically”. Can I see it on stage? And I have to look at the logistics as well — how many characters, what are the technical /production demands, and do I think our audience in Sudbury will enjoy it?

How important is the workshop process in developing a new script? And how many is too many?
STC’s original mandate, created 40 years ago, didn’t include a focus on new work or play creation. In 1972, Canadian playwriting was in its infancy and as Regional theatres were created across the country, their focus was on bringing the world theatre repertoire to Canadian audiences, acted, directing, and designed by Canadians. STC was created during that first wave of Regional Theatres and shared that original focus. As a freelance director though, and as an audience member, I have encountered a great deal of new work that has gone through the workshop process. What distresses me is how many works I see or read that have gone through an expensive workshop process but remain deeply flawed or unfocused.

I think it is less about the number of workshops and more about how the workshops are used in structures. I had a meeting with a writer who was a Literary Adviser at the Royal Court Theatre in London. There, workshops were the LAST part of the process and only entered into when the writer and the adviser (or dramaturg) agreed that the play was nearly ready for production. They had a philosophy that writers should write and not rely on actors to do the writing for them. Is that better? A good topic for discussion (and probably heated debate).

From a practical standpoint is there an ideal number of characters or script length?
As a basic rule of thumb, our dramas have a shorter run than our comedies, so we have fewer performances to generate revenue. Sadly, anything over 4 characters would really have to have a strong story that we felt would strongly resonate with our audience, A play with a lot of characters may be considered if there was a way that a small cast could bring all the characters to life (we are in rehearsals for The 39 Steps, which has over 100 characters, but is performed by 4 actors.)

Does script formatting matter or can it get in the way?
As long as it is easy to read, the format is not that important. But if it is jumbled, hard to follow, and doesn’t give me a clear idea or vision of how it may be realized — which is not to say it has to be over burdened with staged directions — it would be a tough slog to get through. And don’t use a font that is too small — some of us have less than perfect eyes! Sending a hard copy is better than an electronic version, but that may just be me.

How do you feel about detailed stage directions?
Only use what you need to tell the story. A  lot of writers submit scripts that almost read like a film — telling which way a character’s head should turn, or where there eyes should be focused. Keep it simple, and let the actors and the director do their job, which is to bring your script to life.

What turns you off a script?
A script that doesn’t live up to its “billing” — a mystery that is not mysterious or suspenseful, comedies that aren’t funny. I am not a fan of material that is mean-spirited. It can be strongly opinionated or have a forceful argument, but I am not a fan of things that are just mean.

Does the topic matter as much as the delivery? Or are there topics so important any discussion is worthy of staging?
Being an Artistic Director in a smaller community is a tricky balancing act. My job is to provide the BEST theatrical experience for our audience, which is not always on the same wave length as me, and often sees things very differently than an audience in a large urban centre. Our job as ADs is to take the pulse of our communities and try and make the best match between their interests and the desire to expand horizons and visions of the world.

What bad habits from television / movie scripts does a playwright need to break?
Multiple locations are certainly possible in the theatre, but it can run into technical and financial hurdles. The way people talk in movies and films is different than the voices of the theatre, so dialogue is different.

What is the most important play of the past 100 years and why?
Hmmm. That’s a tough one. I am about to start rehearsals for Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, which is credited with being the first ‘absurdist’ play, and I think set the pattern for a way of presenting a story that is not completely linear or immediately understandable. Nearly 60 years after its premier I think it still keeps us interested and asking questions. What is it about? Who is Godot? Why are we here?

Fill in the blank. I wish people would stop telling playwrights to ___.
Write what you know. It’s great advice, but I would rather tell a writer to write what excites them, what fires their imagination.

What do you think about the state of new plays in Canada at the moment? Are you excited by it?
There are great plays being written and produced across the country, which is a nice contrast to when I was young, when new work was the exception rather than the rule. We are a big and diverse country so the range of voices is equally wide and diverse. I just wish there was more money around so the element of “risk” for a theatre like STC doing new work could be cushioned. Sadly, economics has taken the element of risk further and further from what a theatre like ours can attempt.

If you could give emerging playwrights three pieces of advice, what would they be?

1. Read and read and then read some more.
2. Do your homework. Learn what types of work a theatre does, learn something about the communities the theatres live in. Get some idea of the budget of the theatre and see if your vision can be created at a particular theatre.
3. And keep writing!

What do you look for in a script?
Work that is conscious of being bodies in front of bodies. Most scripts I find too language-oriented — too “texty” if you will. There needs to be room for the corporeal. The exceptions to this are the pieces that are fiercely and specifically relevant and that tend to keep high stakes going.

And beauty. There is always room for more beauty.

How important is the workshop process in developing a new script? And how many is too many?
I have never done a workshop (I am the resident physical theatre coach for Pat The Dog Playwright Centre’s workshops, so I’ve done a few) in which the playwright wasn’t taken by how much up-and-working bodies change their perception of the script. Audiences see better than they hear. It’s almost impossible to fully account for that without a real workshop.

From a practical standpoint  is there an ideal number of characters  or script length?
Yes and no. Less than 4 people and a full-length, one-act (less than 1 hour and 20 minutes) is more doable. But great work is great work. I’ll do more if I’m passionate about it.

Does script formatting matter or can it get in the way?
Don’t care.

How do you feel about detailed stage directions?
I want the idea you are trying to communicate, not an instruction booklet. Too much detail detracts from the artistic range of the creative team.

What turns you off a script?
Inactivity. Text-based work with no sense of what an audience sees. Middle-of-the-road work — work that attempts nothing beyond what has already been done and has been said better.

Does the topic matter as much as the delivery? Or are there topics so important any discussion is worthy of staging?
I am drawn to contemporary topics. I have/am programming work about sexual abuse and children, suicide bombers, and gay marriage. I also do plays about existential topics, and spirituality. Great work is great work.

What bad habits from television / movie scripts does a playwright need to break?
Television doesn’t communicate in symbols the way the stage does – the way a piece of rope can change and become many connected things, for example. Television also entirely fails in using the body as the inexhaustible metaphor it is onstage. It does, however, succeed in realizing that we are increasingly a visual- not oral-based culture. This is a vital insight for theatre to remain relevant.

What is the most important play of the past 100 years and why?
Wil Eno’s Thom Pain blows my mind. The zeitgeist of it (sorry, I’m writing this in Berlin right now, can’t help it) is near perfect. A complete reimagining of such an otherwise tired form (the one man fringe-like monologue).

Fill in the blank. I wish people would stop telling playwrights to _________________?
Reproduce the theatre that has come before us.

What do you think about the state of new plays in Canada at the moment? Are you excited by it?
Too large a question to contain. The existing cannon is less engaging to me than what I am seeing coming out now. But that’s all right; it was there at the right time and brought us here.

If you could give emerging playwrights three pieces of advice, what would they be?

What do you look for in a script?
First, a sense that the writer is writing for the stage and not another medium. Secondly, a strong point of view that is reflected in the actual content of the work and the style of the piece. What I would call a distinctive voice.

How important is the workshop process in developing a new script? And how many is too many?
I don’t think there is a formula here that one can apply across the board. Theatre is a collaborative art form, and the sooner a writer realizes that directors/actors/designers and yes, audiences, are going to shape the play, the happier and more productive a writer they are going to be. If nothing else, workshops help writers hear the play, and if they’re smart, they’ll listen to how their dialogue translates into actual speech. I think it’s vital that all involved in a workshop realize that the job isn’t to “fix” the play. It’s an exploration where we all embark on a journey to simply explore the work. At the end of the journey, it’s up to the playwright to decide if they want to make changes.

From a practical standpoint – is there an ideal number of characters  or script length?
No.

Does script formatting matter or can it get in the way?
It doesn’t really matter, but I prefer standard formats—and 12pt fonts. And most importantly, formats that are Kindle-friendly.

How do you feel about detailed stage directions?
Stage directions that try to dictate emotional terrain are not helpful: surely the actual text is going to relay all that information. I personally don’t need much information, but I can see where they are sometimes helpful. If they approach the length of Shaw’s—you’ve gone too far.

What turns you off a script?
Well, I’ve read a lot of plays over the past forty years, so I can get bored pretty quickly. And that happens when the material is overly familiar or is exploring emotional terrain that we’ve visited an awful lot. For example, if you are writing a play about child abuse, it has to be pretty amazing stylistically for me to be engaged.

Does the topic matter as much as the delivery? Or are there topics so important any discussion is worthy of staging?
Personally, I’m more of an aesthete than a moralist. You might want to argue, for example, that your play about climate change must be seen by everyone because it will help save the planet. I don’t care unless it is a beautiful, engaging, emotionally grounded artistic experience. I don’t go the theatre for ideas; I go to experience a heightened sense of life in all its dimensions.

What bad habits from television / movie scripts does a playwright need to break?
Well, the obvious one is scene length. There are many great plays that are written with an episodic structure: Shakespeare being the prime example. And I’m not going to hold up Aristotle as a model to all. But, I have to admit my heart sinks a bit when I start reading a play and I realize that we’re going to many, many locations and we have scenes composed of ten lines each. This is not radical, avant garde writing, folks. Embrace the notion of  a scene with a dramatic action at its core: a character wants something and we watch them achieve that goal or they’re prevented from getting it. We’re creating drama, not performance art.

What is the most important play of the past 100 years and why?
Well, hopefully the one that somebody just finished yesterday. Plays exist in time and their “importance” has to do with how they resonate with the zeitgeist at the moment of their creation. So, there are dozens and dozens of “important” plays for many different reasons. A totally personal choice, and probably because I had the opportunity to direct it, is Tony Kushner’s Angels in America. So big, so imaginative, so funny, so beautiful. The full meal deal.

Fill in the blank. I wish people would stop telling playwrights to _________________?
Write what they know about. We need to explore the limits of our imaginations and push the boundaries of what we think theatre is and can be.

What do you think about the state of new plays in Canada at the moment? Are you excited by it?
I am an eternal optimist. I don’t think I could have hung in for the past 40 years if I didn’t feel that the new play scene was constantly growing and maturing. For some reason, it seems that people will always want to write for the live experience, despite the appeal of other media. The kind of plays we see will change as the audience changes. I look forward to those experiences.

If you could give emerging playwrights three pieces of advice, what would they be?

1. See and read as many plays as you can. It doesn’t matter where they live on the theatrical food chain. Look for the heart of the work—what aspect of the human experience is the writer trying to explore? What does it mean for you? Are you bored? Why?
2. Get over yourself. An arrogant ego is essential to survive in the business we call show, but learn to be a real team player.
3. Have fun. Really.

Pat the Dog Playwright Centre speaks with playwright Evan Tsitsias about his recent production, Aftershock. Evan says:

Aftershock was originally written in 2009 as part of Pat the Dog’s 24 hour Playwriting Contest with the IMPACT festival. It placed 3rd.

I then worked with Lisa O’Connell on developing the script with the hopes of entering it into Summerworks. It was also part of Magnetic North’s piece/meal series before it premiered at Summerworks.

Synopsis: Anna has just returned from one of those “Extreme Makeover” shows on television. She returns to the trailer she lives in with her eccentric family who are all shocked at her transformation and not sure how to communicate with her now.  This makeover ignites a sea of change in everyone around her, except for Anna, who doesn’t know what to do with her new and improved self.  She finds she has to take some desperate measures to get herself to finally move, in any direction.

I don’t think there is enough cyberspace to tell you how much I learned from this experience. The most valuable lesson I learned is the art of true collaboration. You truly are only as good as your collaborators. I also learned to put my ego aside for the benefit of the piece. I learned patience…a lot of it! I learned to keep an open mind and spirit and not treat my words preciously or as sacred text. I learned to take risks and trust that process is more important than product.  I learned not to analyze the tone in which people ask you questions about your script.  I learned how vulnerable it makes you when people speak your words out loud.  And that was just the first day of rehearsal!!

What did you wish you had known going in?
Basically I wish I had known everything from the first question above. I had no idea how much work it was going to be which I think is actually better. I have produced many shows in the past but for some reason this one was the most challenging of all. Probably because I was so close to it.

How has the process of getting a play produced at Summerworks affected your voice as a playwright?
The festival itself was an amazing experience. The audiences and the word of mouth was incredible and the atmosphere is charged with creativity and nurturing and fun. It gave me confidence that I can follow this path and not be frightened of my voice, whatever the response to the work may be. It definitely showed me I can take a risk and have it pay off. I’m not sure if it directly shaped or affected my voice but it definitely shaped my perception of playwriting.

What were the audiences like?
The audiences were incredible.  This festival thrives on word of mouth and the audiences are on the hunt for good work.  They really changed drastically night to night, as did the show. Some were very vocal, some were very intense and focused, and some were a mixture of both. Still not sure which one I liked best. It was interesting for me to watch each show and see what the audience responded to every night, whether it was in the same moments or different ones and trying to figure out why they responded to those moments that particular way. One constant in each show was the audible gasps every time the character began to mutilate herself. It was a thrill to hear such vocal responses. Felt like they were right there, along for the ride.

Did the audience reaction change how you felt about your play? If so, how?
It didn’t change the way I felt about the play itself, but it did change the way I approached my rewrites. It was such a valuable experience to treat the Festival as a preview of what the show would become and evolve into. I think that is my favourite aspect of Summerworks. A chance to experiment in an environment that is geared towards process.

Aftershock got a lot of reviews. Were the reviews positive or negative and how did they affect you?
I would say almost every review was extremely positive. I still find it a little strange to be reviewed on a new work that is only one hour long, truncated due to the time limits of the festival.  I approached this process as a “workshop” or a chance to preview the show with an audience. My first viewing of the show in full with tech etc. was in front of the opening day audience, so it was a surprise for me as well. It’s daunting when you think of reviewers critiquing your piece when you know it’s in stage one of its development process. So I had to prepare for whatever the reviews said. I knew there were holes in the script because of the time constraints and so I took them all with a grain of salt. I’ve developed a very thick skin through this process.  I’m just grateful that the reviews were so positive!

There was, of course, one review that put a negative spin on the exact things I was aiming for.  It was my favourite review because I felt like I accomplished exactly what I wanted, even though the reviewer disagreed with my intention. I do take a little nugget from each review that has helped in the rewrites. I wish we lived in a world where reviews didn’t matter but they absolutely do. Not to my inner world, but to the outside world, unfortunately they can dictate the future of the piece.

Self-producing as a playwright — good or bad? Please explain.
It was both sides of the coin. On one hand, it was great to have more creative control over the process and try to bring as much of my voice into the experience as I could. I was able to choose props, set, creative team etc.,  which allowed me to feel more comfortable.  But on the other side, it was difficult to split my focus as a playwright.  I couldn’t sit there and just listen to the words because I’d be thinking about props, costumes, set, publicity and a million other things that I knew needed just as much attention. I had two amazing co-producers that took a huge load off my shoulders so I would definitely suggest that playwrights/producers collaborate with another producer to take over once rehearsals begin.

Would you do it again? If so, what would you do differently?
Yes I would absolutely do it again and can’t wait for the next phase of this process. In hindsight, I would have given myself more rehearsal time. With a new piece, there were so many questions and rewriting during rehearsals. It would have been nice to take more time to explore the world of the play. I would also have my dramaturg with me for more or all of the rehearsal process. I realized how important they are to the process of producing new work.

What are you working on now?
I’ve already begun working on rewrites for AFTERSHOCK. I started them the day after the festival was over. I was so inspired after watching it in front of an audience that I needed to expand and fix and edit the whole thing. Immediately!! I’m also working on a brand new script. One of my other plays, UNSTUCK, is also being produced as part of the Foundry Theatre’s 2010-11 season so I will also begin working with a dramaturg and director on that piece. I am also initiating a Canadian version of the Lincoln Center Theater Director’s Lab which I’ve attended the last two years in New York. It’s a very exciting project and one that I hope continues to grow year after year. I am working with two other Canadian Lincoln Lab Alum members to create it. So my plate is pretty full and I couldn’t be happier!

What do you look for in a script?
For Touchmark I look for a well-crafted dramatic action and characters which will pique the interest and reward the efforts of experienced actors. Whatever the play’s age and origin, it should be capable of enriching the experience of our audience here and now.

From a practical standpoint – is there an ideal number of characters  or script length?
Dozens of plays which would otherwise be ideal candidates for Touchmark are beyond our means because of cast size or scenic demands. I look for plays which have two to five characters and lend themselves to simple and imaginative staging. Occasionally we take on a bigger project.

Does script formatting matter or can it get in the way?
Our scripts tend to have a production history and are usually published so formatting is not a concern.

How do you feel about detailed stage directions?
I believe it’s important to pay attention to a playwright’s directions, especially at the beginning of a rehearsal period. Stage directions, character directions, character and set descriptions and playwright’s notes all have their place. But even a good playwright sometimes gets it wrong when it comes to the words in italics.

What turns you off a script?
If I read fifteen or twenty pages, and I still don’t know what the play is about (or whom) and where it might be headed, I will put it aside.

Does the topic matter as much as the delivery? Or are there topics so important any discussion is worthy of staging?
For me the essential ingredient of a play is a dramatic action. If a script doesn’t have one, it will not play effectively on stage, no matter how worthy the subject matter.

What bad habits from television / movie scripts does a playwright need to break?
Is it a question of breaking bad habits, I wonder, or recognizing that each medium lends itself to certain modes of expression and not others? Generally a stage play tells a story by means of words, a screenplay, by pictures. A series of short scenes with indefinite beginnings and/or endings can be effective in a movie but is exasperating to watch on stage. A full-length film or play should involve a life-changing experience for the main characters. A half-hour TV show doesn’t need to and in most cases shouldn’t.

What is the most important play of the past 100 years and why?
I don’t have a strong conviction about the importance of a particular play; I’m more impressed by the total legacy. As a director I seem to have an affinity for the plays of J.M. Synge and Tennessee Williams (among the acknowledged “greats” of the twentieth century). I’m also an admirer of Tom Stoppard.

Fill in the blank. I wish people would stop telling playwrights to _________________?
“Write what you know.”

If you could give emerging playwrights three pieces of advice, what would they be?

1. Think dramatically! When generating ideas for plays, imagine motivated characters pursuing goals, meeting obstacles, achieving success or failure.
2. Outline your play first. Then develop the outline. If ideas for dialogue occur, jot them down, but keep expanding the outline until you have a feel for the arc of each character and how every scene functions and contributes to the whole.
3. When you come to write the scenes, let them take on their own life. Treat the outline as a guide, not a prescription.

Recent directing credits also include: And All For Love (National Arts Centre), Generous (Tarragon), Afterplay (Shaw Festival), The Last Five Years (CanStage and MTC), This is How it Goes (Neptune Theatre), Helen’s Necklace (Grand Theatre), and The Play About The Baby (Soulpepper).

Daryl has been awarded the Canada Council’s John Hirsch Prize for an Outstanding Emerging Theatre Director, the Toronto Theatre Emerging Artist Award, and a Robert Merritt Award for Outstanding Director (This is How it Goes).  He is also one of three writer/directors for the interactive feature film Late Fragment, produced by the Canadian Film Centre/National Film Board, which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival.

What do you look for in a script?
A surprise.

From a practical standpoint – is there an ideal number of characters  or script length?
Nope.  I’ll happily sit in a theatre for 9 hours if the playwright earns every minute of it. (Conversely, there’s nothing more excruciating than a 3-hour play that only has 10 minutes of compelling content.)

Does script formatting matter or can it get in the way?
Nope. As long as I understand what’s going on, the format doesn’t matter.

How do you feel about detailed stage directions?
Write the information you need to impart to make the action make sense. Long detailed stage directions become cumbersome in rehearsal and often ignored. If you are selective and concise with stage directions, they stand out better, and have a far better chance of being adhered to.

What turns you off a script?
Cliches.

Does the topic matter as much as the delivery? Or are there topics so important any discussion is worthy of staging?
Doesn’t matter how you deliver the story if you have nothing to deliver. Content is everything.  You must have an important story to tell.

What bad habits from television / movie scripts does a playwright need to break?
Lots of short episodic scenes in lots of different locations.  Storytelling in theatre needs time to develop. Long scenes. Rich dialogue.

What is the most important play of the past 100 years and why?
Wow, that’s impossible to answer.  Though I would say that Caryl Churchill is one of the most important playwrights of the past century.

If you could give emerging playwrights three pieces of advice, what would they be?
I’ll just give you one good one I heard recently. I’m directing “Rabbit Hole” by David Lindsay-Abaire right now.  He explains that as a young playwright, his instructor told him that in order to write a great play he must “write about what scares him most” He had no idea what that meant. Years later, he became a father. When friends of his lost their young child in a tragic accident, he suddenly realized that losing his child was the thing he was most scared of in the world.  And he wrote “Rabbit Hole”, about a young couple losing a child.  And won the Pulitzer Prize for it.

Ken Cameron is the Artistic Director of the Magnetic North Theatre Festival, a national festival showcasing exceptional new Canadian work, co-presented with the National Arts Centre. Also a playwright, Ken is the author of Harvest, My Morocco and My One And Only. All three plays will be published by Newest Press in 2010.

What do you look for in a script?
At Magnetic North we do not produce scripts from scratch, like a theatre company: instead we present touring productions by theatre companies, bringing in the ready-made work to our festival. As a result I am not really looking at scripts these days, so much as I am looking at full productions.

But when I think about scripts that I love, they are often “rich”: rich in characterizations, rich in plot, rich in dialogue. I am really intrigued by plays which give the actors lots to play with in relation to one another – lots of opportunities to attack, cajole, insult, seduce in turn – dramatic action in other words.

From a practical standpoint – is there an ideal number of characters or script length?
Since the mid-90s when government funding for the Arts hit the first of its many crises, the average cast size on Canada’s stages have steadily shrunk. At about the same time Canada’s Fringe Festivals emerged as a popular and cost-effective platform for emerging playwrights to develop their craft. Both factors put pressure on playwrights to create plays with ever smaller casts, culminating the ultimate small cast: the one-man show.

It’s not entirely a bad thing. By focusing on only three or four characters a playwright has the opportunity to really develop character, intention and plot. Every character matters and must be full fleshed-out, and the playwright must use all their skill in drawing the remaining characters into conflict and sustaining tension between a small cast over a full length play. It’s a great way to practice one’s craft. And one- or two-person plays often provide the actors with opportunities to show off their craft and turn in a truly virtuosic performances.

Fortunately, though, we are starting to see Artistic Directors and audiences tiring of small cast plays and looking for those affordable plays that allow them to create with a larger canvas.

Does script formatting matter or can it get in the way?
When I was the Executive Director of the Alberta Playwrights Network the most common question we received from budding playwrights was “what is the proper format for stage plays?” I’ve often surmised that this question comes from reading manuals on how to write a screenplay. In film, there are rigid rules for how to format a script. And I mean rigid. This is because, if formatted properly, a page of screenplay really does translate into a minute of screen time. This is not the case for stage plays, however, where an average page can vary widely in the time it takes to play out onstage.

I feel very strongly that the format of a script should reflect the play itself. I am publishing a book of three plays later this year and one of the plays, a one-person show, is formatted quite differently, with line breaks to reflect the cadence and flow of text. It’s not something I do often, but when a script demands it I will break from traditional formatting.

And what is that traditional formatting? There are several different options, and Canadian publishers vary even amongst themselves. Buy a few plays and see what works for you.

How do you feel about detailed stage directions?
I think Samuel French has lead many playwrights astray. Scripts available form Samuel French are covered with detailed stage directions and annotated with set descriptions and props lists. Beginning playwrights often over-write their stage directions feeling it is their responsibility to follow Samuel French’s example.

What many people fail to realize is that these directions are usually based on the first production or the Broadway hit production and are rarely written by the playwright herself. Often they reflect the director’s vision. Oddly, directors and actors are taught in theatre school that the first thing they ought to do is cross out stage directions and begin from a blank slate, using the words and the actor’s impulses as their only stage directions. I once wrote an entire script without a single stage direction as a challenge to myself to see if I could communicate my intentions through the text alone.

Beautiful moments can emerge when a director and playwright trust the actors to bring the script to life. Theatre is at its best when it involves collaboration, and trust is at the heart of it.

What turns you off in a script?
If it’s not clear from the above, over-written stage directions turn me off!

Does the topic matter as much as the delivery? Or are there topics so important any discussion is worthy of staging?
I think topic and delivery are intertwined and inseparable. There are many important subjects that need to be dealt with, but if that is one’s primary impetus for writing a play, the really you are dead in the water. A play that deals with an important topic is the same as any play – it must tell a compelling story and it must tell it in an interesting way that captures and retains the attention of an audience.

What bad habits from television / movie scripts does a playwright need to break?
When Directors talk about how a play is too cinematic, they oftentimes mean that the scenes are very short, not leaving enough time for the characters to develop. Just as often it can mean that plot points are introduced and just as quickly resolved. Theatre has difficulty “cutting” from one location to another, so once you have asked a director, designer and cast to go to all the work of creating a particular time and space, then its important to let them stay and explore one another in that space. (Note I said “explore one another”, not the space itself – a play is nearly always about conflict between characters).

I recently saw the film Inglourious Basterds, and was surprised by just how much time the director takes with each scene. If one can set aside all the violence and Second World War revisionism, then each segment of the film builds to a scene that is essentially little more than two or more characters sitting at a table with one another. Yet, because of the plotting, the characters and the given circumstances, these simple moments are rich with dialogue, subtext and dramatic action. Truly virtuosic storytelling on the part of the writer/director and the actors.

What is the most important play of the past 100 years and why?
For Canadians it’s likely The Ecstasy of Rita Joe. The odd thing about having a country that is so young is that our theatre culture is very, very recent. Rita Joe premiered in 1967 in Vancouver: and starred Chief Dan George, then chief of the Squamish Band of Burrard Inlet, BC. Two years later it was revived at opened the studio theatre in The National Arts Centre. That was the year I was born. Its worth noting that The Ecstasy of Rita Joe is sometimes called one of the first plays written about Canada to be professionally produced: in a way Canadian Theatre is as old as I am. So I like to think Canadian Theatre is very, very young.

I saw Rita Joe in 1990 while I was a 20-year old student at McGill University. The same year that I saw the play a group of Mohawk Warriors blockaded a bridge in Montréal to protest the development of land which they claimed they had land rights. Here were political events outside my doorstep that had their roots in the same institutionalized racism depicted in a play that had been written two decades earlier. It sad that this political situation should persist: but I think it also champions the relevance of theatre generally.

Fill in the blank. I wish people would stop telling playwrights to… …
… think about their audience. The worst plays I have written in my life are plays I wrote to please someone else. At one point in my career I discovered I was over-concerned with what an audience might think of a particular moment or a turn in the plot, or an atrocious action a character might make or shocking line of dialogue they might say. Write what you want to see onstage: write a story that grips you, about a subject you personally are passionate about.

If you could give emerging playwrights three pieces of advice, what would they be?

1. Go to the theatre and see plays. When I was at the Alberta Playwrights Network I was astonished at how many budding playwrights turned up at my door wanting advice on their script, but who had not set foot in a theatre in years. When I asked them about this many simply blinked at me, curious as to why it would matter. Would you expect to be able to play hockey if you had never seen the game played?
2. Go to the library and read plays. A play on the page is never the same as on the stage. The actors, director, designers and creative team breathe life into a play that, on the page, is only a blueprint of production. Better yet: read the play before you go see it onstage and compare what was in your imagination with what you saw onstage.
3. Write. Many playwrights forget this stage. Writing is hard work, and it’s easy to get distracted and to spend one’s time talking about writing. One can only go to the pub and talk about how hard the writer’s life is before one needs to stay home on a Thursday night and actually do some writing.

A theatre director and performer, Bou-Matar immigrated to Canada from Lebanon in 2003 and focuses on Canadian intercultural theatre.

An active member of the arts community in Waterloo Region, Bou-Matar has also directed several productions in Beirut and been an active participant in several theatre, television, and film projects in the Middle East and Tunisia.

In Beirut, Majdi’s directing portfolio includes: Nijinsky: the Hour of his Wedding to the Lord (1997); Miss Julie (1999); Something Like Macbeth (2000). In Canada, he has directed for The MT Space: Three-Legged Horse (04-05), Seasons of Immigration (2006), Yes or NO! (2007), Exit Strategy (2008), and The Last 15 Seconds (2009).

What do you look for in a script?
I am personally attracted to the physical, the inter-cultural and the inter-disciplinary. How much the script allows for new and challenging presentations of the body and its politics? What frictions and negotiations does the script present between different cultures? And how much does the script challenge the conventional deadly forms of theater that are usually imprisoned in categories and within the solid walls around performance disciplines?

From a practical standpoint – is there an ideal number of characters or script length?
Particularly in my work at The MT Space, I prefer casts between 3 and 8 performers and shows that are between 50 and 90 minutes in length. This is related to the particular aesthetics of the work we do in terms of its simplicity and minimalist qualities.

Does script formatting matter or can it get in the way?
I don’t think there is a rule or prescribed format for any work of theatre. Plays breath, grow and evolve in the space of creation, in the body of the performer and with the audience attending the show.

How do you feel about detailed stage directions?
In my work stage directions are useless. I believe in recreating any piece of theatre in an immediate way directly related to the time, place and people of creation. This might sound radical, but I don’t usually read the script as I am directing it, I rely only on witnessing it through the bodies and voices of my performers as they play in the workshop space.

What turns you off a script?
It would be too long of a list to mention here!

Does the topic matter as much as the delivery? Or are there topics so important any discussion is worthy of staging?
What matters to me most is the relationship between the performer and the story. What does the performer have to say about the play/ character/or script. It is in this in-between space of negotiation and witnessing that theatre prevails. In that sense delivery might take the front row, but both the topic and delivery are important depending on the relationship that exists between them.

What bad habits from television / movie scripts does a playwright need to break?
Write for the wide shot rather than the close-up.

Write what the camera can not see. While the camera can capture life very accurately and imaginatively, it cannot capture the theatricality of life. The theatricality of life only exists through the medium of theatre.

While playwrights can benefit a lot from the motion picture as a form, they need to understand theatre as a totally different form where the moment can never be repeated (as in film); on the contrary the moment lives and dies constantly within the moment itself. Therefore, playwrights should not write plays that could be repeated and re-produced. They should write plays that can be born, breath, grow, change and die endless times.

What is the most important play of the past 100 years and why?
I don’t know what the ‘most important’ play is in the past 100 years. Important to whom, I wonder, and by what standards? Theatre history, the canon and the published plays of the last 100 years have mostly been written, evaluated and categorized by Western male academics, and are not by any way inclusive of all the important theatre achievements of the century. To my personal taste and experience Harold Pinter has been one of the most exciting playwrights (to read) of the 20th century. Fadhel Jaibi (Tunisia) is the most skilled theatre creator I have ever encountered and Pina Bausch – in my opinion – is the most influential figure in the 20th Century theatre/dance.

Fill in the blank. I wish people would stop telling playwrights to _________________?
…write plays, but instead to createtheatre.

If you could give emerging playwrights three pieces of advice, what would they be?

1. Work in the studio with the actors because theatre is created in the body and space, not in the mind and on paper.
2. Simplify and write fewer words because the magic of theatre is in what is not said.
3. Let the few words you write be rhythmic and poetic like a song.