The World & the Want: Why Many Musicals Fail in the First 15 Minutes

The World & the Want: Why Many Musicals Fail in the First 15 Minutes

The World & The Want: Why Many Musicals Fail in the First 15 Minutes

Many musicals don’t fail in Act Two.

They fail in the first 10–15 minutes.

Not because the writers aren’t talented—
but because the foundation isn’t clear.

If your audience doesn’t understand the world of your show and what your protagonist wants, they have nothing to hold onto.

And if they don’t have that?
They’re gone—whether they realize it or not.

Start Here: The Stasis of Your Musical

At the beginning of Act One, you are establishing what’s called the stasis—the “normal world” before everything changes.

This is where you introduce:

  • Your main character (the one with the WANT)
  • The dramatic premise (what the story is about)
  • The dramatic situation (the circumstances we’re stepping into)
  • And the inciting incident (what’s about to disrupt everything)

This is not setup for the sake of setup.

This is where you teach the audience how to watch your show.

The Opening Number Is a Contract

Your opening number is doing far more work than most writers realize.

It must:

  • Invite the audience into the world
  • Establish tone, style, and storytelling language
  • Introduce key characters
  • Signal what kind of experience this will be

In other words:

It’s a promise.

And your show has to deliver on that promise for the next two hours.

As Stephen Sondheim said (building on what he learned from Oscar Hammerstein II):
“The Opening Number must tell the audience everything they need to know.”

If your opening number is unclear, unfocused, or tonally confused—
your audience will spend the rest of the show trying to catch up.

The Inciting Incident: Breaking the World

Once the world is established, something must break it.

This is your inciting incident—the event that sets the story in motion.

And here’s where writers often go wrong:

The inciting incident should not be passive or internal.
It works best when it is thrust upon the protagonist from the outside.

Why?

Because it forces action.

It disrupts the stasis and launches the story into motion.

 

The Point of No Return

After the inciting incident, your protagonist reaches a critical moment: The Point of No Return.

This is where they (your protagonist) must make a choice.

Not something that happens to them—
but something they actively decide.

From this point on, there is no going back.

This is where your story truly begins.

 

The I WANT Song: The Engine of Your Musical

If there is one moment you cannot afford to get wrong, it’s this:

The I Want Song.

This is where:

  • We understand who the protagonist is
  • We understand what they want
  • And we decide whether we care

This “want” becomes the super objective—the driving force of the entire show.

As Stephen Schwartz puts it:

“Pretty much any successful musical you can name has an I Want Song within the first 15 minutes… the lack of such a moment is a weakness.”

The I Want Song:

  • Clarifies the goal
  • Points the way forward
  • Invites the audience to invest emotionally

If we don’t understand the want—
we can’t root for the journey.

Not All Songs Do the Same Job

In this early section of your musical, you’re balancing three types of songs:

  • “I Am” songs – who the character is
  • “I Feel” songs – emotional processing
  • “I Want” songs – forward-driving desire

The key is this:

Every song must move the action forward.

If it doesn’t—cut it.

Because musical theater is not about expression alone.
It’s about moment to moment action onstage.

 

This Is Where Most Writers Get Lost

Writers often:

  • Blur the world instead of defining it
  • Delay the inciting incident
  • Avoid committing to a clear WANT
  • Or overload the opening with exposition that doesn’t move

The result?

A musical that feels slow, unclear, or unfocused—
even if the writing itself is strong.

 

Most Writers Think They Have This. They Don’t.

Here’s what I see over and over again:

  • An opening number that doesn’t actually define the world
  • An inciting incident that comes too late—or isn’t clear
  • An “I Want” song that’s vague or generic
  • A protagonist we don’t fully understand or root for

On paper, it all looks right.

In performance, it falls flat.

Because this work isn’t about knowing the terms.
It’s about executing them.

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Ready for the Next Step?

Once your world is clear and your protagonist’s want is established—

you’re ready for the real work:

Building Act One so it actually drives forward.

Because setting it up is one thing.

Sustaining momentum is another.

If You Want to Make Your Act One Work…

Our NYC Musical Development Workshop 1: Developing the World & the Want is April 26th at 12 noon ET.
We take what you’ve written —and make sure it functions onstage.

Want to present your work on Sunday April 26th?

Stay in the loop with our upcoming workshops!

Stay True to Yourself

Stay True to Yourself

Stay True to Yourself (Or Watch Your Play Disappear)

I’ve been telling our writers something over and over the past few weeks:

Stay true to yourself.

Yes, it sounds generic. It’s not.

I mean it in a very specific way: knowing exactly where your play lands.

Playwrights—especially early and mid-career—are hungry to be produced. And because of that, they become incredibly good at working with  notes. They implement changes quickly. They listen closely. They adjust to make the play better.

Especially when the notes are coming from a “successful” director.

And that’s where things can go wrong.

Because in the middle of rewrites, it’s very easy for a writer to lose their way.

And once they lose it—they don’t always get it back.

Let me exlain.


The Mistake That Kills Good Plays

Here’s what just happened:

We had a writer who had done the work. Months of development. The script was strong. Funding was in place. A venue was secured.

We brought in a highly recommended director. Enthusiastic. Experienced. Seemed like the right fit.

At first, everything looked good.

Then we scheduled a table read—because after major rewrites, you have to hear the piece out loud.

What we heard wasn’t the writer’s play.

It was the director’s.

The original piece was about a family navigating grief, disconnection, and misunderstanding.

The new version? A political debate.

Same characters. Same structure. Completely different play.

And here’s the part no one wants to say out loud:

If that version had gone forward and succeeded—it wouldn’t have been the writer’s success.

It would have belonged to the director.

Fortunately, we hadn’t signed the contract yet.


What This Cost (And What It Taught Us)

This wasn’t just creatively frustrating—it was expensive. Time, energy, momentum.

But it clarified three non-negotiables:

1. Stop trying to please the room.
If you’re making changes to keep a director or producer happy, you’ve already started drifting.

2. Know what you want your audience to walk away with.
Not your “message.”
Your impact.

What should they understand, feel, or question when the lights come up? What do you want them to think about on the way home?

If you can’t answer that clearly, someone else will answer it for you—and rewrite your play in the process.

3. Choose your director like it matters—because it does.
Never go with the first “yes.”

Talk to multiple directors. Ask them one simple question:
“What is this play about at the end?”

If their answer doesn’t match yours, they are not your director. Full stop.


Don’t Become the Wrong Kind of Playwright

Let’s be clear:

I am not telling you to become the “resistant playwright” everyone dreads working with.

Collaboration is essential.

But there’s a difference between collaboration and compliance.

If you’re so open that your play can become something different… it will.

And then it no longer is yours.


The Line You Cannot Cross

You can take notes.
You can explore alternatives.
You can rewrite entire sections.

But you cannot lose sight of why you wrote the play in the first place.

Because once that’s gone—

You’re no longer developing your work.

You’re developing someone else’s.

And that is a much more expensive mistake than you think.


Ready to Develop Your Work Without Losing Your Voice?

This is exactly why we built our development pipeline at CreateTheater.

Because getting your work “ready” isn’t about collecting opinions—it’s about strengthening your voice so it can stand up in the room.

Inside our development programs, you’ll learn how to:

  • Take notes without losing your core idea
  • Clarify what your play is actually about
  • Collaborate with directors from a position of strength—not insecurity
  • Get your work to a place where it’s ready to be seen as you intended it

If you’re serious about developing your play or musical the right way:

👉 Explore our development opportunities here: https://createtheater.com/develop/

Don’t wait until your play has been rewritten into something you don’t recognize.

Build it right from the start.

How to Beat the Feedback Freeze and Keep Moving Forward

How to Beat the Feedback Freeze and Keep Moving Forward

What to Do With Notes When You’re Feeling Stuck

You’ve just had a table reading and got feedback on your new musical or play.

Oof. You sit through the conversation, scribble some notes. And suddenly, your brain goes silent.

Everything you’ve done feels wrong. You don’t know where to begin. Why didn’t they get it?

Welcome to the feedback freeze, that uncomfortable post-notes paralysis where you’re too overwhelmed to revise, but too self-aware to keep drafting blindly.

We’ve all been there.

The good news? This moment doesn’t mean you’re failing—it means you’re creating something. It means you’re growing as an artist. And if you let it, this moment can become the most transformative part of your process.

Take a deep breath (and maybe take a couple of days), and let’s look at this a bit differently.

Yes, it can be overwhelming. Here’s some tricks that my writers use to move through the freeze and keep creating. 

Feel First. Don’t Fix. Not Yet.

Before you do anything practical with you feedback—feel your feelings. Let yourself be annoyed. Defensive. Confused. Crushed. Whatever. Allow your feelings to be.

Feedback can feel personal, even when it’s not. The important thing is to give yourself space to emotionally digest before deciding what to do.

Try these:

  • Journaling your gut reactions
  • Taking a walk or 24-hour pause
  • Reminding yourself: Notes are about the work, not your worth

Processing first means you won’t overcorrect or reject ideas just because they hurt.

Sort the Useful from the Noise

Not all feedback is created equal. Some notes are gold. Others are well-meaning… but not necessarily correct for your work.

Ask yourself:

  • Does this feedback align with what I’m trying to make? Does it feel right somehow to me? Is it something that I’ve suspected myself?
  • Is it pointing out a real problem, even if the suggested fix isn’t right?
  • Have I heard this more than once?
  • Do I trust the feedback given from this particular individual?

Create three buckets:

  • Definitely Use
  • Maybe/Needs More Thought
  • Not Helpful for This Draft

It’s important to let your own artistic sense and goals guide the filter before you change even a single word in your script.

Build a Feedback-to-Action Workflow

Once you’ve sorted everything out, translate your top notes into clear, bite-sized actions.

Instead of “make the second act tighter,” try:

  • “Cut 5–7 minutes from Act 2”
  • “Clarify character X’s decision at midpoint”
  • “Reorder scenes 7 and 8 for better momentum”

Think like a director giving yourself cues. Make it actionable.

Use tools like:

  • A revision spreadsheet
  • Sticky notes by scene on the wall
  • Index cards with individual notes per moment

The goal: to transform abstract feedback into a concrete to-do list instead of stewing in your thoughts.

Give Yourself Time—But Not Too Much

You don’t have to implement feedback right away. In fact, rushing can lead to muddy drafts.
But beware the other trap: overthinking yourself into a corner.

Instead, try:

  • Setting a date to revisit the notes with fresh eyes
  • Giving yourself a short feedback “cooldown” window—3 to 5 days max, then taking another look
  • Schedule a “next step” writing session before you feel totally ready

You’ll get clarity faster when you’re back in motion and thinking clearly.

Set Mini-Goals Based on the Notes

You don’t have to fix everything at once.

Start with one mini-goal:

  • “Improve the inciting incident’s clarity”
  • “Revise character B’s final song lyric”
  • “Draft a new scene that addresses note X”

Each small step rebuilds your momentum. And the more you do, the more your confidence returns.

Remember: Feedback is fuel. Not a final verdict.

You’re an artist. A writer. The builder of this unique and interesting world. Notes are there to support your vision—not replace it.

So feel your feelings. Take what helps. Break it into action. And keep writing the story only you can tell.

Want a community to help you process and act on feedback?
Think about joining our Writer’s Residence, the Experts Theater Company.

How to Make Progress When You Don’t Know Your Show’s Ending Yet

How to Make Progress When You Don’t Know Your Show’s Ending Yet

For Playwrights and Musical Theater Writers Who Thrive in Discovery Mode

You’ve got a great setup. Characters who pop. A world that feels rich with possibilities. But there’s just one little issue…

You have no idea how your show ends.

Or you have an idea, but it’s not landing yet.

Sound familiar?

If you’re a playwright or musical theater writer trying to write a new piece without a clear roadmap, you’re not alone—and you’re not doing it wrong. Sometimes the ending comes to us first, but then other times it doesn’t. We’ve created characters first, maybe, but we can’t quite nail the ending.

What to do?

This is very much on my mind currently, as I’m producing a play to open in June and, well, the ending still hasn’t “revealed itself.” Yikes.

Plenty of brilliant, finished shows started out as messy, half-formed drafts written by writers who trusted the process before they knew the destination.

Here’s some suggestions we’re using to keep making progress on your new script without knowing the ending yet.

Embrace “Discovery” Writing

Not everyone writes from an outline—and that’s okay. Discovery writing (also called “pantsing”) means you find the story by writing it. You let your characters talk, get into trouble, and surprise you. It’s organic. It’s chaotic. And it can lead to some of your most original ideas.

The key is to stay curious instead of panicked. If you don’t know where it’s going yet, that’s not a failure—that’s fuel. You’re exploring the terrain while building the map.

Explore Your Characters’ Wants and Raise the Stakes

When you can’t see the end, zoom in on your characters’ desires. What does each of them want—emotionally, practically, spiritually? What’s in their way?

The more clearly you understand what’s driving them and the obstacles in their way, the more naturally plot points and conflicts will arise. Ask yourself:

  • What would they do next to get what they want?
  • What would challenge them the most?
  • What are they afraid of losing?

The answers might lead you to your next scene—or your eventual ending.

Write the Middle with a Flexible Mindset

The middle of your show is where things evolve, deepen, and get complicated. Even without a firm ending, you can write scenes that test relationships, raise the stakes, and introduce twists (typically the midpoint reversal) that excite you.

Be flexible. If a character veers off course or a subplot emerges unexpectedly, follow it for a bit. Revision is where you make it neat. Drafting is where you let it be messy and alive. Have more fun with this! The more fun you have now, the more fun your audience will have later.

Use “What If” Scenarios as Your Daily Prompts

Stuck? Try “what if” questions to jumpstart your writing:

  • What if the antagonist suddenly helped the protagonist?
  • What if the lovers don’t end up together?
  • What if someone makes the wrong choice and it spirals?

These prompts don’t have to “fit” your eventual structure. They’re experiments to discover new layers in your story. Some might stick. Others might spark ideas you didn’t expect.

Track Your Theme and Emotional Arcs

Even if the plot isn’t clear, your theme can be. What are you trying to say? What feeling or idea keeps bubbling up as you write? What “gift” are you wanting to give the audience at the end?

Track how your characters are emotionally changing from scene to scene. Are they getting closer to something? Losing something? Growing?

Emotional arcs can anchor your show even before the structure is solid. If you follow the emotional truth, the ending often reveals itself when the time is right.

Keep Going, Even If It’s Imperfect

A draft doesn’t have to be linear. It doesn’t have to be “complete.” It just has to exist.

You’ll revise. You’ll cut. You’ll rewrite the ending three times. But if you stop writing because you don’t know where it’s going, you’ll never find out.

So trust your instincts. Let the show teach you what it wants to be. And remember: the ending might not be what you planned—but it might be exactly what your show needs.

Remember, a play is never “finished” – it’s just produced.

What We’re Doing Now:

Among other things, I’ve hired a director who lives in the world of the play, and a really smart playwright/dramaturg who does not. It helps to have divergent opinions to fully round out the characters clearly.

We’re having heady intellectual and psychological discussions between the four of us (playwright, producer, director and dramaturg) about every character, motive, and scene, reviewing the moment-to-moment stakes and thoughts motivating action. Over Zoom, as we’re working artists with commitments out of NYC.

We’re reviewing external documents that shape the issues in the world of the play together, to fully understand the lived experience of the family we’re portraying, and the issues they believe in.

Heady stuff, but all in all an exhilarating creative process. And I know the show will benefit from this research.

Your Turn:
How about you? Are you writing a musical or play without knowing the ending yet? What helps you keep going?

Share the way you go about your creative process (or pose questions) in the comments! We’d like to hear what you do.

Why Most New Plays and Musicals Stall in Development

Why Most New Plays and Musicals Stall in Development


Why Most New Plays and Musicals Stall in Development

(And What Actually Moves Them Forward)

Let’s say the quiet part out loud.

Most new plays and musicals don’t stall out because they’re bad.
They stall out because the people making them are doing many different things—but not building momentum.

If you’re a playwright or musical theatre writer, this probably sounds familiar:

You’ve had a reading. Or three.
You’ve gotten “great feedback.”
People say things like, “This has real potential.”
You’ve revised… and revised… and revised again.

And yet?

Nothing is actually moving forward.

No next step.
No clearer path.
No traction with the industry.
Just a vague sense that your show is perpetually “almost ready.”

Welcome to development purgatory.

At CreateTheater, we see this every day—not because writers aren’t talented, but because development is deeply misunderstood. The industry rarely gives creators experience on how projects move from script to stage. So new writers especially default to what feels productive instead of what actually is productive.

Let’s talk about the real reasons shows stall—and what to do instead.


Reason #1: You’re Confusing Activity With Progress

This is the #1 killer of new work momentum.

Readings. Workshops. Feedback sessions. Script swaps. Festivals. Another round of notes. Another rewrite.

It feels like progress because you’re busy. You’re doing “writer things.” You’re engaging with the community. You get to invite friends an family to the “next exciting step.”

But activity is not the same as movement.

Progress means:

  • The show is clearer than it was before

  • The next step is more specific

  • The circle of people invested in the project is growing

  • Someone new can now say “yes” to it

If your development doesn’t change the trajectory of the project, it’s not progress—it’s maintenance.

One of the hardest truths for writers to accept is this:

You can be working very hard on the wrong thing.

Endless activity without strategy doesn’t move a show forward. It just exhausts the creator.


Reason #2: You Don’t Have a Development Path—Just a Pile of Experiences

Most writers approach development like a buffet.

“I’ll do a reading here, a festival there, maybe a workshop if I get in, and then… we’ll see.”

There’s no order. No logic. No sequence.

But development isn’t a grab bag. It’s a path.

Every strong development journey answers three questions:

  1. What is the show right now?

  2. What does it need next?

  3. What does that step make possible afterward?

Without that clarity, writers bounce between opportunities that don’t build on each other. They get stuck doing early-stage development forever—or they leap ahead before the work is ready.

This is why shows stall after their “first good reading.”
That reading wasn’t connected to a plan.

A reading is not a strategy.
A workshop is not a roadmap.
A festival is not a guarantee.

Development only works when steps are intentional.


Reason #3: You’re Collecting Feedback Instead of Making Decisions

Let’s be blunt: feedback does not move a show forward.

Decisions do.

Writers are often told:
“Let <insert name> take a look at it.”
“Get more feedback.”
“See how audiences respond.”

So they do. And do. And do.

But no one teaches them how to filter feedback—or how to decide what actually matters right now.

As a result:

  • The script gets pulled in multiple directions

  • The writer keeps “fixing everything”

  • The core problem never gets addressed

Development becomes reactive instead of strategic.

Here’s the insider truth:
Producers don’t care how many notes you’ve gotten.

They care whether you:

  • Know what the show is

  • Can articulate what you’re working on

  • Can explain why certain choices were made

Strong development isn’t about pleasing everyone.
It’s about choosing intentionally.

If your revisions aren’t driven by clear priorities, your show will stall—no matter how smart the feedback is.


Reason #4: You Don’t Have an Advocate (And You’re Trying to Do Everything Alone)

Shows don’t move forward because scripts are “good.”

They move forward because someone pushes them forward.

A producer.
A director.
A dramaturg.
An artistic leader.
Someone who is willing to say, “I believe in this, and I’ll put my name behind it.”

Many writers try to carry their projects solo for far too long. They pitch, submit, rewrite, and plan entirely on their own—assuming that once the script is “ready,” support will magically appear.

That’s not how it works.

Advocates don’t arrive at the end.
They’re part of development itself.

Without an advocate:

  • Opportunities don’t stack

  • Introductions don’t happen

  • Momentum dies between steps

One of the most important development realizations a writer must understand is this:

The goal is not just to improve the script—it’s to expand the team.

If your development process never brings new people into the project, you’re building in isolation. And isolation is where shows stall.


Reason #5: There’s No External Pressure For the Next Step

Deadlines are not the enemy of creativity.
They’re the engine of it.

Many shows stall simply because nothing is forcing them to move ahead.

No timeline.
No accountability.
No concrete next step.

“I’ll revise when I have time.”
“We’ll plan another reading down the road.”
“I’m waiting until <insert current excuse>.”

That’s not a plan. That’s avoidance dressed up as patience.

Professional development includes:

  • Target dates

  • Clear milestones

  • Real-world consequences

External pressure doesn’t mean rushing.
It means structure.

At CreateTheater, one of the biggest shifts writers experience is realizing how much lighter the work feels once there’s a framework holding it. When they understand that they’re not making decisions about their work alone.

When everything lives in your head, it stalls. 
When it lives in a structure, it moves.


Reason #6: You Think the Show Is Further Along Than It Is

This one stings—but I see it over and over again.

Writers often overestimate where their show is in the development life cycle. Not out of ego (usually)—but out of hope.

They start pitching too early.
Submitting too early.
Asking producers for things the show can’t yet support.

Then they hear:
“Not ready.”
“Come back later.”
“Interesting, but…”

And the writer loses confidence in their own process.

Every stage of development has different goals:

  • Early development = discovery and clarity

  • Mid development = structure and alignment

  • Late development = readiness and team-building

When you skip steps, you don’t move faster—you stall harder.

One of the most powerful things a creator can say is:

“This is where the show is, and this is what it needs next.”

That clarity builds trust.
Advocates lean in to help the show with a clearly defined path.


Reason #7: You’re Waiting for Permission Instead of Building Leverage

Many writers believe the next step in development requires someone else’s approval.

A theatre has to say yes.
A producer has to say yes.
A festival has to say yes.

But shows gain momentum when creators build leverage—not when they wait.

Leverage looks like:

  • A clear artistic identity

  • A strong development narrative

  • A team forming around the work

  • Proof that the creator understands the business side

Industry professionals are far more likely to engage when a project already feels in motion.

Waiting to be chosen is a stall strategy.
Building readiness is a momentum strategy.


So What Actually Moves a Show Forward?

Momentum comes from structure.

From understanding:

  • Where the show is

  • What it needs next

  • Why that step matters

It comes from:

  • Intentional development, not random opportunities

  • Decision-making, not endless note-reviewing

  • Team-building, not isolation

  • Strategy, not wishful thinking

This is why CreateTheater exists.

Not to give more feedback.
Not to run endless readings.
Not to keep writers “busy.”

But to help creators:

  • Build development paths that make sense

  • Align their work with industry realities

  • Create momentum that compounds

Because talent is everywhere.
What’s rare is clarity.

And clarity is what keeps shows from stalling.


If you’re tired of feeling like your show is stuck—if you’re ready to stop spinning your wheels and start moving forward—then it’s time to stop moving in circles and start developing with intention.

Momentum doesn’t come from doing more.
It comes from being guided by people who understand how this industry actually works.

New plays and musicals don’t need another round of opinions. They need experienced judgment, clear sequencing, and development that happens in conversation with the professional field — not in isolation from it.

At CreateTheater, development is mentored deliberately, not randomly nor academically.

We work inside professional industry standards. We ask the questions producers, artistic directors, and programmers ask behind closed doors. We help writers understand not just what needs work, but why — and which choices will materially change how the project is received.

That means:

  • Development decisions grounded in professional reality

  • Projects shaped by people who know how shows move in NYC

  • Writers who aren’t left guessing at the next step

Shows don’t move because someone “likes” them.
They move when they’re built with clarity, pressure, and guidance from people who know the system.

That’s how work advances in this city.
And that’s the work CreateTheater exists to do.