Don't Talk Back (or Do?)

The reading of Fire on Earth at the Huntington went quite well yesterday.  We had rehearsal from 12-5, which gave us time to read through the script once, and then go back through to look at a few important moments, figure out which stage directions should be read, and think about transitions.  We also cut a few pages, taking out some sections that were remnants of an earlier draft, that probably never quite fit in there either.  Rachel, my director (with some help from Lisa Timmel, the Huntington's Director of New Plays), was very good at helping me figure out whether the pages should stay or go.

For the reading itself, we had about 30 people in the audience, mostly people I knew.  The heavy rain kept people away--we'd cut off reservations last week (we only could seat 50) when we'd reached capacity, so we ended up less than full.  But they were a good, attentive crowd.

The cast, of Will LeBow, Gabriel Kuttner, Ben Evett, and Grant McDermott, were fantastic.  There's a special joy that comes from seeing your work read at its maximum capacity.  There's a lot less room for excuses that way ("oh, if only we'd had a different actor for that part.  He couldn't quite get it.")

We chose not to have an audience talkback, which I know disappointed some people.  I'm mixed on the value of talkbacks.   They certainly can be fun, especially for an audience eager to talk about what they've just heard.  When I helped run Colorado Dramatists (ages ago), I led a lot of reading discussions.  Over the years, I've probably facilitated at least 50, probably close to 70 or 100.  Having an experienced moderator helps (a lot).  But even then, the discussion sometimes veers into odd territory, into weird feedback, or unwanted rewriting of the playwright's work.

Still, sometimes it's helpful.  But I'm less and less likely to use them these days.  I find it more important to make sure there is a critical mass of bodies in the seats to watch the reading, so there's an actual audience there to respond.  (20-30 people will do the trick in a small space.  For a comedy, I think 20 is the minimum.  With less, you shouldn't even bother having a reading.  I make a point of sending a lot of person invites to people, to try to get them to attend.)   Part of my job as a playwright is to be able to watch my play, judge it on my own terms, while at the same time being in tune with the people sitting in the seats around me and noticing whether they're paying attention, laughing, sighing, etc.  I get better at this all the time, with practice. 

If I was in a strange city, I might actually still want a talkback, because I wouldn't know the people or how else to solicit their feedback.  Though, at the same time, too much of the wrong feedback can be very unhelpful (possibly even harmful.).

Since I was in Boston, though, I knew most of the people in attendance, and I'd made it a point to invite people whose opinions and feedback I valued highly.  Instead of trying to get their instantaneous impressions, I e-mailed all of them today and asked for them to send me any thoughts they had.  The advantage of this is that the responses are more likely to be to the play as a whole.  And one-on-one feedback doesn't favor people who are the most outgoing--the louder voices don't end up taking over the public conversation.  I've already received several detailed e-mails from audience members that are very helpful indeed.

One of the other ways I like to do feedback, which isn't what we did last night, is a millabout--where there is plenty of food and drink and we encourage people to linger and to come up and talk to me and each other.  This easier for some people than sitting in chairs waiting to be called on.  And a few drinks loosen people up.  Plus, I can eavesdrop on people, too.

The other advantage of not having a talkback right after a reading is that right when the reading is over, I haven't had time to digest my own thoughts about the play yet.  It's important for the playwright to take a little time after a reading to just sit with his or her own response and own notes, before hearing from a horde of people with other agendas.  It helps me to be better able to respond to outside feedback in a more useful manner.

And lastly (and this might seem trivial or stupid, and actually didn't occur to me before this reading, but rather afterwards), in a situation like last night, where the artistic director of a major theatre is hearing my play for the first time, I'm interesting in him taking away the experience of the play and thinking about it on his own, without that experience being stirred up and around by a discussion.  And discussions will often take a little journey and build momentum on certain topics, that after a while have more to do with the people commenting, that the script itself.  Now, of course, Peter Dubois probably isn't as likely to be as affected by this as I am myself (I imagine he's sat through many hundreds of talkbacks in his career), but still, I want to be able to talk with him about it first.

Anyway, that's my thinking about talkbacks these days.  I had a great time last night and am full of questions about what I need to do to continue to improve the script.

feedback tonight

Tonight my fiction writers' group is meeting to discuss my new middle-grade novel in progress. They're a very generous bunch and have been willing to read the whole thing for this meeting (it's not super long). I feel extremely fortunate to be matched up with such an insightful group of writers and readers who are good at giving useful feedback (I'm not just buttering them before the meting, I swear). For me, being part of a critique group is an essential part of my writing process, whether it's for fiction or playwriting (though they operate very differently).

For my playwrights' group, I rarely get nervous ahead of time, probably because we all bring in work to every meeting, and we bring in shorter segments (10-15 pages) at a time. It doesn't feel like that much is at risk (though sometimes, if I try something way out on the edge, I might worry).

I always get nervous before our fiction group discusses my work, partly because it comes in bigger chunks (this work-in-progress is about 38,000 words), and partly because the work we're discussing is usually the result of months (sometimes many, many months) of labor, and I often wonder if I have any objective perspective left after rewriting fictions over and over again. Internally, I always have a balancing act going on, enjoying the anticipating of sharing work with them that I really like, but also reminding myself to be realistic, that it still needs work, and that I need to make sure I stay open and receptive to comments and the discussion.

For any writer in a critique group, that's the most important challenge--the group can only be useful for you if you're mentally in a state where you're ready to accept and process feedback. That's not to say that every comment received in a feedback session is valid, or even useful. The trick is always to pick out the most important comments from readers, most important for the story, and most useful because they reveal how my unexpected blinds spot have affected the reader.

What I'm Writing: getting ready for feedback

Tomorrow night, my fiction writers group meets to talk about the first half of the latest draft of my novel-in-progress. Today and tomorrow morning, I'm trying to get myself ready, partly because I'm nervous about what they'll have to say (though they're always kind and supportive). But I also feel an obligation to them and to myself, to make sure that I'm ready for the critiques that will come my way.

It's a lot to ask of people to read and make detailed comments on 160 pages of a novel (and they'll do the other half soon). Right now I'm rereading all the material, and I've set aside some time to think about my own impressions and concerns. In some ways, a novel's developmental path is more constrained than that of a play. There are certain stages where I can get feedback, but they're a bit more limited. With a play, I might bring bits of it to a playwrights group, and then have a sit-down reading, and then a staged reading, and more readings, and then a workshop production, more readings, a production, and then make even more changes.

With a book, it's not that complicated, or drawn out. Of course, I could choose to work on this one forever, but this is an important time and opportunity. I owe it to myself to make the most of what they have to say, and to try to stamp out any defensiveness that might tend to rumble during the session.

One of the things I find most challenging about working on a novel is trying to return to revisions with fresh eyes. This is tough for plays, too, but I can always put together a reading with actors, which will shine new light on the piece.

In a way, I've had the best of both worlds with my current novel, because I've been bringing ten-page chunks of it to Rhombus, my playwrights group, where we hire actors to read for us every two weeks. I've gotten constant and helpful feedback there from my fellow writers and actors. But while having talented actors read your novel-in-progress is helpful and fun, it also can help hide some flaws in the manuscript. My fiction writers group will dig past some of those.

I just need to be ready.

What I'm Writing: progress today and feedback rationing

Had a good chunk of the morning available for writing today. I'm hard at work on a second draft of my second novel. When I finished the first draft, around Thanksgiving, it was about 350 pages long. Since then I've done a big round of cuts, bringing it down to about 275 pages. Now I'm in expansion mode, and it's grown back up to about 305. I find it interesting how a novel in progress sort of breathes its way into its final shape and length. (Plays develop differently.)

I've been working only the second half of the book lately, because the first 160 pages are in the hands of my fiction writers group. We meet next Thursday, and they will have a great deal of useful (and probably overwhelming) feedback. I'm trying hard to finish my current work on the second half before that feedback arrives, because, especially for expansion work, it's important to have a clear head. I've even been holding back from reading written comments from one of my readers who can't attend the meeting. She's given me a few pages of notes, but I won't read them (okay, I confess, I skimmed them) until next week. Any time I have to write new material, it's so important to avoid self-consciousness, and that's impossible with the echoes of a handlful of critiques bouncing around in my head.