Pride goeth before the curtain
Tonight I’m attending a read-thru of my new (draft) play for Fertile Ground. It’s the second time in less than a week, and if this one goes like the first, a talented, experienced group of actors will ready my unfinished script and give me critical feedback. Probably very critical.
I can’t wait.
Some playwrights hesitate to expose their work – and their egos – to open critique at such an early phase of a play’s development. Hearing what doesn’t work at this stage can debilitate the writer, causing one to lose faith in the potential for the project (if not one’s ability in general) and perhaps even abandon the whole thing. It’s tempting to respond defensively to a critic at this stage, or to try to explain what the critic “just doesn’t get.” I admit, at times, I’ve yielded to those temptations.
But when I can restrain myself from responding and focus instead on listening, I end up feeling much better in the end. Better to be proud of the work when it’s done than while it’s still in draft. And pride now definitely comes at the expense of pride later.
Mind you, my attitude toward critics of a play in development contrasts a hundred percent from critique of a finished work. I love critique now, when it helps me improve the work. I have little use for critique of a finished product (if it truly is, in my mind, done).
Critique is part of the collaborative process that I love to much about theatre. Actors, directors, dramaturgs, and techies each contribute creative talents and insights that bring a story to life for an audience. That’s even more true at the development stage than at curtain. To be able to treat a work in progress as fodder for a workshop is a huge gift from my creative friends in the industry. I’m very fortunate to be a part of such a supportive theatre community, and I’d be a fool to squander this gift by rejecting it out of pride.
Besides, I’ve tried it the other way in the past, and believe me – it’s better to hear that awful “clunking” sound now, in a small room with friendly artists, than when the room is full of folks who’ve paid good money for something better.
