Not Every Script is Ready for a Showcase

Not Every Script is Ready for a Showcase

 

There is a moment in the development of a new play or musical when the writer begins to ask a very understandable question:

When can I get this in front of industry?

Maybe the script has had a few readings. Maybe it has been through a writing group. Maybe the writer has spent months—or years—rewriting it. At some point, the natural impulse is to move outward: invite producers, artistic directors, literary managers, directors, investors.

In other words: showcase it.

But here is something I have become increasingly clear about as a producer:

Not every script is ready for a showcase.

And that is not a judgment on the quality of the writer or even the potential of the work.

It is a question of timing.

 

A Showcase Creates Expectations

The word showcase can sound deceptively casual.

We sometimes treat it as simply another developmental step: first a reading, then a workshop, then a showcase.

But a showcase is different because the purpose of the room changes.

A developmental reading asks:

What does the piece need?

A showcase begins asking:

What could happen to this piece next?

That distinction matters.

Once you invite industry professionals into the room, you are asking them to begin imagining the work beyond development.

Could this fit our season?

Would I produce this?

Would I direct this?

Could I introduce this writer to someone?

Is there an audience for this?

What would it cost?

That means the work is being evaluated differently.

And you want the script to be strong enough to benefit from that attention.

 

More Exposure Is Not Always Better

Writers are understandably encouraged to get their work seen.

And yes—new work needs advocates.

But there is a difference between getting the work seen and getting the work seen at the right moment.

Premature exposure can work against you.

If an artistic director sees a script before its central dramatic problem has been solved, they may simply conclude that the script does not work.

They may never know that six months later the writer completely restructured Act Two.

If a producer watches a musical before the score, book, and dramatic architecture are working together, they may remember the weaknesses rather than the potential.

You rarely get to control when someone will encounter your work again.

That is why I do not believe showcases should be consolation prizes, graduation ceremonies, or automatic benefits of belonging to a development program.

They are strategic opportunities.

And strategy requires asking whether the work is actually ready.

 

So What Does “Ready” Mean?

It does not mean perfect.

There is no such thing as a finished new play or musical that will never change again.

Even productions continue teaching us about the work.

But before I would want to put a piece into an industry-facing showcase, I would want to see several things happening.

The dramatic engine of the piece should be clear.

The audience should understand whose story they are following, what that person wants, and what stands in the way.

The structure should basically hold.

There may still be cuts, rewrites, new songs, scene changes, and discoveries ahead. But the piece should no longer be searching for its fundamental architecture.

The major emotional turns should land.

The writer should have already heard the work aloud—preferably more than once—and made discoveries from actors and audiences.

And perhaps most importantly:

We should know why we are doing the showcase.

“Because I want industry people to see it” is not quite enough.

  • Which industry people?
  • And what do you want them to do next?
  • Are you looking for a producing partner?
  • A regional theater?
  • A commercial producer?
  • A director?
  • A developmental residency?
  • Investors?
  • An artistic home?

The clearer the next objective is, the more useful the showcase becomes.

 

Sometimes the Best Next Step Is More Development

This is the part writers sometimes find frustrating.

They have worked hard. They are eager to move forward.

And then the producer says:

I think we need another reading.

Or another rewrite.

Or a workshop.

That can feel like standing still – and possibly make you angry.

But development is not standing still when it is answering a specific question.

A table reading might reveal whether the storytelling is clear.

A music rehearsal might expose a structural problem in a musical.

A staged workshop can tell us whether transitions, pacing, physical storytelling, and theatrical moments are functioning.

Each form of development gives us different information.

The goal is not to accumulate development credits.

The goal is to solve the problems that stand between the work and its next opportunity.

 

This Is How I’m Thinking About CreateTheater’s 2027 Showcases

We are beginning to look toward CreateTheater’s 2027 Showcase productions (as well as our 2027 New Works Reading Festival).

But regarding the showcases, my question is not simply:

Which writers deserve an opportunity?

There are many writers I believe in.

My question is:

Which projects are ready for this particular opportunity?

Those are not the same thing.

One project may be ready for a showcase.

Another may need six more months of focused development.

Another may need a table reading before anyone makes that decision.

Another may actually be ready to move beyond a showcase toward production conversations.

That is the kind of pipeline that CreateTheater has built.

Not a conveyor belt where every project automatically advances to the same next step.

A developmental process in which the opportunity matches the readiness of the work.

Because the goal is not simply to present a script.

The goal is to help that script move forward.

 

The Better Question

So if you are developing a new play or musical, I would encourage you to replace:

“How do I get a showcase?”

with:

“What does my work need next?”

Sometimes the answer will be a showcase.

Sometimes it will be another reading.

Sometimes it will be a workshop.

Sometimes it will be a serious rewrite.

None of those answers mean you are behind.

They mean you are developing the work strategically.

And when the right opportunity finally arrives, you want the piece to be ready to take advantage of it.

Because in new work development, the opportunity must match the readiness of the work.

(NOTE: Image is from the first day of rehearsal for the next musical LITTLE THINGS by David H. Smith at the Philadelphia Theater Company.)


Want to follow how CreateTheater develops new plays and musicals toward readings, workshops, showcases, and production? Join the CreateTheater newsletter and come inside the development room.

Come join us at the Philadelphia Theater Company for LITTLE THINGS on August 29th at 3pm

When Development Becomes Production

When Development Becomes Production

The Pipeline in Motion

I’m writing this from Philadelphia, where I’ll be in rehearsal for a few days with LITTLE THINGS at the Philadelphia Theatre Company.

And looking at the week ahead, I realized that this may be one of the clearest examples I’ve had of what I mean when I talk about a development pipeline.

Because this week, CreateTheater has work happening at nearly every point along it.

On Monday night, we’ll hold another Monday Night Developmental Reading—this time Act One of a new musical by ETC member Jarlath Jacobs, currently living in Italy. The working title is JACQUES & JILL, a reworking of her musical FIRE ISLAND, which had a showcase production at Theatre Row as part of the CreateTheater New Works Festival in 2022.

That project has already been produced once.

And now it is back in development.

Because development is not a straight line, and production is not always the end of the process.

 

Production Is Not the End of Development

There is a tendency to imagine a theater project moving along a neat, linear path:

Write the show → develop the show → produce the show → done.

But that is almost never how new theater actually works.

A reading reveals one thing.
A workshop reveals another.
A showcase reveals something else entirely.

Sometimes a production tells a writer that the piece is finished.

Sometimes it tells them exactly where the next version needs to begin.

That is what development is for.

Our Monday Night Developmental Readings have been running all summer, and we are now booked every Monday through December with readings of new plays and musicals. Some are early drafts. Others have already had significant development or production experience.

The point isn’t that every reading immediately leads to a production.

The point is that the work keeps moving.

 

Tuesday: Back in the Development Room

On Tuesday, after a day in rehearsal in Philadelphia, I’ll run two ETC writing groups which meet over Zoom to continue developing new plays and musicals.

This is quieter work.

There are no costumes. No lighting cues. No ticket buyers.

It can be easy to look at this stage and think that the “real” theater hasn’t begun yet.

But this is where much of the real theater work gets done.

Characters are clarified. Structures are challenged. Songs are moved. Scenes disappear. Endings change. Writers hear pages aloud and discover that something they thought was perfectly clear on the page isn’t clear at all when actors speak it.

Those decisions may eventually determine whether a producer can see a viable production in the work.

Which brings us to Wednesday.

 

Wednesday: Development Becomes Production

On Wednesday, we will officially announce THE BLUE VIOLINIST OVER WEST END AVENUE Off-Broadway.

Tickets will go on sale.

Previews begin October 27.

That is the moment outsiders can see.

The announcement.
The theater.
The dates.
The tickets.

It looks like production has begun.

But from where I’m sitting, production began a year earlier.

It began in the conversations with playwright Debbie Goodstein about what the play wanted to become.

It continued through readings, rewrites, artistic conversations, assembling a producing team, hiring (and firing) collaborators and making the hundreds of decisions required before anyone ever walks into a rehearsal room.

And, importantly, the development still isn’t over.

On Thursday afternoon, Debbie, director Jonathon Silverstein, and I will spend several hours together hearing the newest draft of the play—just the three of us. On Zoom, because it’s summer and we’re not all in Manhattan.

No audience.

No presentation.

No attempt to make it look finished. But the work continues.

We are still listening.

Still asking questions.

Still making sure the script we take into rehearsal at the end off September is the strongest version of the play we know how to make right now.

That is what I think writers sometimes misunderstand about the moment when development turns into production:

You don’t stop developing because you have a production.

The questions simply change.

 

The Questions Change

During early development, we might ask:

Is the story clear?
What does this character want?
Is this scene earning its place?
Where does Act One actually end?

Once production approaches, those questions begin intersecting with others:

How will this world physically exist onstage?
What kind of actor does this role require?
What does the audience need to understand visually?
What can we afford?
What must we protect artistically?
What has to be decided now?

By Friday, we’ll be in another production meeting for The Blue Violinist, approving final designs for the set, lights and costumes. We’re hoping to have casting complete by the beginning of the following week.

Those are unmistakably production decisions.

Yet they are still serving exactly the same thing we were serving in the development room: the story.

And Meanwhile, More Work Is Moving Forward

Thursday evening, we’ll shift gears again and continue to plan the three CreateTheater Showcases we’re producing in 2027.

Friday evening, we’ll turn toward the November New Works Cabaret Festival.

And here in Philadelphia, LITTLE THINGS is entering a different stage of the same journey.

The show has already gone through development with CreateTheater, including a cabaret presentation last year. Now the writers have the opportunity to put more of it on its feet and discover what happens when actors, staging, choreography, music and an audience become part of the equation.

That workshop will give us information we could never find sitting around a table.

And whatever we learn will feed the next stage.

 

So When Does Development Become Production?

I’m not sure there is one clean line.

I think there is a period when the center of gravity shifts.

At first, the primary question is:

What is this show?

Eventually, the question becomes:

How are we going to make this show happen?

And somewhere in between, the producer begins committing resources, collaborators, space, money, time and reputation to the answer.

That is when development starts becoming production.

But development itself never completely disappears.

At least, I don’t think it should.

A healthy new-work pipeline isn’t a conveyor belt that moves a script from one box to the next.

It is a continuing artistic process in which each new stage gives us more information.

Reading → workshop → showcase → production → perhaps development again.

The goal is not simply to “get the show produced.”

The goal is to make the strongest show we can—and to understand what the work needs next.

Looking at the week ahead—readings, writing groups, rehearsal, an Off-Broadway announcement, a script session, design approvals, showcase planning and a cabaret festival—it feels less like a collection of separate activities and more like one continuous act of making new theater.

And that is exactly what I had always hoped CreateTheater would be.

A place where new work keeps moving toward the stage.

Come join us at the Philadelphia Theater Company for LITTLE THINGS on August 29th at 3pm

What a Workshop Production Can Teach You About Your Show

What a Workshop Production Can Teach You About Your Show

There comes a point in the development of a new musical when you have learned almost everything you can learn from the page.

You’ve rewritten it.

You’ve heard it read aloud.

You’ve talked through structure, character, stakes, songs, pacing, and intention.

You may even have had an industry reading.

And then you reach the next question:

What happens when this actually becomes theater?

That’s where we are right now with LITTLE THINGS, a new musical with book by David H Smith and music by David H Smith and Tom Fosnocht.

I’ve been working with David on this show for almost three years, beginning with an early draft he brought into CreateTheater in 2023. In 2024, LITTLE THINGS received an Industry Reading at the CreateTheater New Works Festival at Playhouse 46 in Manhattan. Earlier this year, we held another table-reading workshop to look closely at the newest draft.

Now, on August 29, the entire musical will go in front of an audience in a workshop production in Philadelphia, directed by Michelle Tannenbaum.

And at this stage of development, I’m not primarily interested in whether people “like” the show.

I want to know what the show does, what it says when it’s onstage.

 

A Personal Story Has to Become an Audience’s Story

David began writing LITTLE THINGS partly as a way of processing the pain of his own divorce.

That personal connection is one of the things that gives the musical its emotional truth.

But it also created one of our central developmental challenges.

When you are writing from lived experience, there is a natural impulse to say, “But that’s what really happened.”

And my response, again and again, has essentially been:

That isn’t the most important question.

The question is whether what happened serves the story you are trying to tell now.

Theater is not a deposition. It doesn’t owe the audience a transcript of reality.

It owes them a story.

That can be difficult for writers working from autobiography because changing an event can sometimes feel like changing the truth. But dramatic truth and factual accuracy are not always the same thing.

Our job was to preserve the emotional truth of David’s experience while building something larger than one man’s divorce.

The musical needed to become a story that could belong to other people, too.

Not simply, “This is what happened to me.”

But:

“This is what it can feel like when life falls apart — and what it might take to build a new one again.”

That distinction changed the development of the show.

 

What Is the Audience Supposed to Leave With?

Divorce is not exactly an inherently cheerful subject. A musical centered on the collapse of a marriage can become emotionally heavy very quickly.

But thankfully, David was never interested in keeping the audience in despair. Instead, the deeper idea behind LITTLE THINGS is that life can continue after enormous disappointment.

Relationships change.

Families change.

People hurt one another.

People surprise one another.

And sometimes, after the life you had planned on disappears, another life can begin.

David and I had to think not only about what the musical was about, but about the experience we wanted to give the audience. If the destination is hope, the journey cannot be two hours of relentless pain followed by a hopeful final song. (God help us.)

The hope has to exist somewhere in the DNA of the show.

So, part of our development process has been continually looking for opportunities to bring more fun into the storytelling.

More humor.

More theatricality.

More buoyancy.

More songs that give the audience a chance to breathe, to laugh, and to have some fun.

More moments where the musical remembers that even during very difficult periods of our lives, absurdity, joy, attraction, friendship, surprise, and laughter still exist. The music is upbeat and pop-inspired, with numbers like, “Get a Test,” and the villainous attorney Beatrice Otch’s (Bea Otch) song describing how “The Ends Justifies the Means.”

That doesn’t make the painful material less truthful.

But in many ways, it makes it much more human.

When you’re going through a divorce you have to see the humor in the situation sometimes, right?

 

Now We Need to See It

This is why a workshop production matters.

Some questions simply cannot be answered around a table.

One of the things I’m particularly interested in seeing in Philadelphia is how the flashbacks in Act One function in performance.

They do important work.

They establish the world.

They give us history.

They help us understand the marriage, the characters and the relationships that have brought these characters to the present moment.

But much of that material is expositional and world-building rather than actively driving the present-day plot forward.

On the page, you can analyze that intellectually. You can ask whether every scene contains necessary information.

You can cut.

You can rewrite.

You can rearrange.

But theater is experienced in time.

The real question is:

What does it feel like to sit through it?

Do the flashbacks feel theatrical and revealing?

Do they deepen our emotional investment?

Do they create momentum of their own?

Or does the audience begin impatiently waiting for us to get back to the present-day story?

That is something I want to watch very carefully.

The same is true of the choreography.

Do the transitions work? The musical pacing. The comedy. The tone.

Does the integration of the songs and the scenes work well?

Does the cumulative experience of watching the entire show – instead of hearing isolated sections in a development room – payoff at the end?

A workshop production exposes the architecture, especially for new musicals.

 

Development Is Not About Protecting the Show

There is a temptation for writers in development to keep refining.

One more draft.

One more reading.

One more conversation.

One more rewrite before anyone really sees it.

There is safety in that.

But eventually, development has to become exposure.

You have to let the work encounter actors moving through space, music filling a room. transitions happening in real time.

Design elements beginning to appear.

And an audience responding — or not responding — where you thought they would.

That is where your musical will start telling you things you did not know about it.

That’s when the work gets real.

And, after three years of development, that is what I know LITTLE THINGS needs now.

Not another theoretical conversation about whether the show works, or where to tweak this moment or that line.

It needs to be experienced on stage.

Why Philadelphia?

Philadelphia also happens to be exactly the right place for this stage of the journey.

David is a Philadelphia native, and the city is very much part of the musical’s personality.

There is even a cameo appearance from Gritty, the wonderfully unhinged Philadelphia Flyers mascot — which tells you something about the tone we’ve been trying to build.

After developing the show in New York, bringing it into David’s hometown gives us a different kind of audience and a different kind of room.

That matters.

Development is not only about improving a script.

It is also about discovering who the work is for and how people experience it.

This Is Why I Believe in Development

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about why any of us continue to do theater.

It is an unreasonable profession in so many ways. Especially right now.

It asks for enormous amounts of time, energy, money, patience, and faith. Faith in the writer, in the director, and in the audience to resonate with the material you’re trying out.

There are very few guarantees.

But I keep doing it because I believe theater matters.

I believe stories placed onstage can enter (and even change) the cultural conversations.

I believe they can help us understand people whose lives are different from our own.

I believe they can create recognition.

Empathy.

Argument.

Catharsis.

Joy.

And occasionally, a different way of seeing the world.

That is also why I care so deeply about development.

If we believe stories can matter once they reach an audience, then we have to care about how those stories get there.

We have to give writers enough room to discover what their work is actually trying to become.

We have to ask what experience we want the audience to have.

And eventually, we have to stop protecting the work and put it in front of people.

That is where LITTLE THINGS is now.

Three years into the journey, we are ready to find out what the musical teaches us when it finally gets up on its feet.

Because development is not about keeping a show in development.

It is about preparing the work to meet the world.

 

Come join us at the Philadelphia Theater Company for LITTLE THINGS on August 29th at 3pm

Why Developmental Theater Companies Matter More Than Ever

Why Developmental Theater Companies Matter More Than Ever

Theater is hard right now.

Have you noticed?

It is hard to get produced.
It is hard to get attention.
It is hard to build an audience.
It is hard to raise money.
It is hard to know which opportunity is actually worth your time and which one is just another application fee, another deadline, another “we loved your work but…” email.

And if you are writing a new play or musical, it can feel like you are carrying the whole thing alone.

The script.
The rewrites.
The submissions.
The readings.
The networking.
The hope.
The disappointment.
The question underneath all of it:

How does this piece actually move forward?

That question is exactly why developmental theater companies matter.

And honestly?

They matter now more than ever.

 

New Work Needs Infrastructure

A play or musical does not move from the writer’s desk to the professional stage by magic.

(I know we love theatrical magic. I believe in it. I have spent my life chasing it.)

But behind that magic is structure.

There is development.
There is dramaturgy.
There is producing strategy.
There is audience response.
There is rewriting.
There is positioning.
There is the hard, sometimes unglamorous work of asking:

  • What is this piece?
  • Who is it for?
  • Why does it matter now?
  • What kind of production is it asking for?
  • What still needs to be solved before anyone can responsibly produce it?

That is not busywork.

That is the work.

And it is the work that too many writers are being asked to figure out by themselves.

A developmental theater company exists to create infrastructure around new work before it is ready for full production. It gives the artist a room, a process, collaborators, professional perspective, and a pathway forward.

Because here’s the truth:

Development is not a luxury. Development is what makes production possible.

 

 

New Plays and Musicals Should Not Be Judged Too Early

One of the biggest problems in theater right now is that new work is often expected to behave like a finished product before it has had the chance to become one.

A script gets one reading.

Maybe two.

A few people give notes.

Then suddenly the writer feels pressured to submit it everywhere, pitch it to producers, send it to theaters, raise money, or mount a production before the piece has actually been tested.

That is dangerous.

Not because the writer lacks talent. (Usually, talent is not the problem.)

The problem is that the work has not yet had the developmental support it needs to become theatrically viable – or theatrically exciting.

There is a fragile space between the first strong draft and the production-ready script.

That space matters.

It is where the writer discovers what the story is really about.
It is where the structure either holds or reveals its cracks.
It is where characters deepen.
It is where songs earn their place – or are replaced (or changed).
It is where the audience teaches you what the script is actually doing in the room.
It is where a producer can begin to see the path toward a reading, workshop, showcase, or production.

Developmental theater companies protect that space.

They do not rush past it.

They do not pretend it does not exist.

They honor it.

Because when new work is judged too early, we lose stories that might have become extraordinary with the right support.

 

 

Theater Makes Us More Human

I teach college students at Baruch, and one of the things I notice again and again is how accustomed they are to consuming stories on screens.

Film.
Television.
YouTube.
TikTok.
Streaming platforms.
Short clips.
Fast edits.
Endless content.

That is the storytelling world they live in.

So when they come into a theater and experience a live performance — sometimes for the first time in a serious way — they experience storytelling in a different way.

They are watching actual human beings breathe in the same room.

They are sitting with strangers.

They cannot pause it.
They cannot scroll past it.
They cannot double-speed it.
They cannot look away without feeling the weight of their own attention.

And it excites them.

Live theater asks something different of us.

It asks us to be present.

And new work asks something even more urgent. It says:

  • This story is being made now.
  • This conversation belongs to this moment.
  • This room matters.
  • These people matter.
  • This audience matters.

In a digital culture, live theater reminds us that human presence still matters.

And – I deeply believe that seeing theater makes people more human.

Not softer. Not nicer. Not magically transformed by curtain call.

But more aware.

More empathetic.

More awake to the lives of others.

And right now, we need that.

 

We Need New Stories That Reflect the World We Are Living

Theater has always held a mirror up to society.

But that mirror has to be current.

It has to reflect the people in the room, the questions we are asking now, the communities we live in, the anxieties we are carrying, the joy we are trying to protect, and the human contradictions we are all trying to survive.

That is why new work matters.

And yes, regional theaters are doing important work telling stories rooted in their own communities. They should. That local connection is essential.

But Off-Broadway has historically been one of the great launching platforms for new American theater. It remains a place where new work can gather attention, collaborators, credibility, and momentum before moving into regional productions, commercial opportunities, or other future lives.

New York does not need to be the only place where new work is validated.

But it is still one of the most powerful places where new work can be developed, tested, seen, and taken seriously.

That is part of why CreateTheater exists.

We are here to help new plays and musicals become ready for the rooms they are trying to enter.

Not theoretically ready.

Actually ready.

 

 

Writers Should Not Have to Develop Theatrical Work Alone

Let me be very clear about something.

Writing a play or musical is not the same as writing a novel.

A script is not a literary artifact meant to sit beautifully on a page.

It is a blueprint for a live event.

That means at some point, the work has to be tested in the bodies, voices, timing, energy, and presence of actual performers in front of actual people.

A writer can only do so much alone.

At some point, the script needs a room.

It needs ears.
It needs bodies.
It needs pressure.
It needs questions.
It needs an audience.
It needs someone who understands not only story, but production.

That is the difference between writing endlessly and developing intentionally.

A developmental theater company gives writers a place to stop guessing.

Not because anyone can guarantee production.

But because the process can become clearer, smarter, and more strategic.

At CreateTheater, we are not interested in development for the sake of development.

We are interested in development that leads somewhere – that leads to seeing the work on stage, where it belongs.

That is why I use the “Develop-to-Produce” method in my Production-Ready Writers™ writing groups.

Because the goal is not to endlessly workshop your play or musical until everyone is exhausted.

The goal is to understand what the work needs next — and then to prepare it for that next step with intention.

 

 

Development Also Builds Audiences

Development is not only for writers.

It is also for audiences.

A developmental theater company can invite people into the process of discovering new work. It can help audiences understand that a reading, workshop, or showcase is not a lesser version of theater.

It is a front-row seat to the birth of something.

That is exciting.

It is especially important for students and emerging theatergoers, who may not be able to afford expensive tickets but can still experience the energy of new work in development.

A developmental showcase can become an entry point.

A reading can become a first encounter.

A new play can become the moment someone realizes theater is not dead, dusty, or irrelevant.

It is alive.

It is happening now.

It is speaking to them.

That is part of the cultural value of a company like CreateTheater.

We are not just developing scripts.

We are developing artists, audiences, and future possibilities for the work.

 

CreateTheater Is Moving Toward Nonprofit Status

This is also why I am working on turning CreateTheater into a nonprofit.

Because if we believe new work matters, then we have to build structures that support it.

Grants and donors can help make space for new plays and musicals that are not yet commercially obvious, but are artistically and culturally necessary.

They can help us provide developmental opportunities, readings, showcases, student access, artist support, and public programming.

They can help us put quality new work in front of audiences in New York and help regional productions happen.

They can help us create a stronger bridge between the writer’s desk and a story being told onstage.

That bridge is desperately needed.

Because if fewer institutions support new stories, we all lose.

Writers lose.
Audiences lose.
Students lose.
Producers lose.
Theater loses.
The culture loses.

A healthy theater ecosystem needs more than finished productions.

It needs places where new work can grow.

 

 

So Where Does Your Work Fit Into This?

If you are a playwright or musical theater writer, this is the question I want you to sit with:

  • Are you still writing in isolation?
  • Are you still submitting the same draft everywhere and hoping someone else will see something special in it?
  • Are you still wondering whether your script is actually ready for a reading, workshop, showcase, or production?
  • Are you still getting feedback but not a real path forward?

Then you may not need another random note session.

You may need a developmental process.

I created the Production-Ready Writers™ 6-Month Writing Groups to help develop plays to get onstage.

This 6-month session is for playwrights who are ready to look at their plays not just as scripts, but as future productions.

We will work on the craft, yes.

But we will also look at the bigger questions:

  • What is the piece becoming?
  • Where does it belong?
  • What kind of audience is it trying to reach?
  • What still needs to be developed before it can move forward?
  • What would make this script more producible?
  • What is the next realistic step?
  • How can I help it get there?

Because the goal is not just to write (and rewrite) pages.

The goal is to build a piece that can live.

Onstage.

In front of people.

With impact.

 

Why This Matters Now

Theater is tough right now.

No argument.

But that is not a reason to stop making it.

We must get more intentional.

We must build better pathways.

We need to support new work before it disappears in the gap between an artist’s idea and a culture’s next important story.

That is what developmental theater companies do.

That is what CreateTheater is here to do – to help new plays and musicals move from idea to structure, from draft to room, from private hope to public possibility.

Because theater still matters.

Live storytelling still matters.

New work still matters.

If your play or musical has something urgent to say, then it deserves more than wishful thinking.

It deserves development with direction.

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If you are ready to stop guessing and start building your work toward its next real step, join us.

Your story deserves a room. It deserves support.

And maybe, just maybe, the culture needs the story only you can tell.

What Producers Actually Look For in New Work

What Producers Actually Look For in New Work

One of the biggest mistakes I see many playwrights and musical theatre writers make is believing producers are looking for “good writing.”

Of course they are.

But, after years of producing, directing, dramaturging, and sitting through countless readings, festivals, workshops, and development processes, I can tell you that “good writing” is not the whole conversation.

I’ve seen beautifully written plays stall for years.

I’ve also seen less-than-perfect scripts move forward really quickly (to my surprise).

Why?

Because producers never evaluate scripts in isolation.

Instead, they evaluate projects – and how current audiences would receive them.

That’s a very different thing.

When writers send out a script, they want to know:

“Is this good? What do you think?”

But producers are asking themselves a whole different set of questions.

  • Can I build a team around this?
  • Does it have an audience?
  • Would a regional theatre want it?
  • Can I see a path from where it is now to a complete production?

The longer I work in theatre, the more I realize that many writers have simply never been taught how the industry evaluates new work.

So – let’s pull back the curtain a little.

Below are some of the things I know many producers pay attention to.

Producers Look for Projects They Can Get Behind

That may sound obvious, but hear me out.

Producers don’t wake up in the morning wondering how many scripts they’re going to reject that day.

They look for projects they can say yes to. Something they can get excited about.

It’s true – everyone’s looking for the next Hamilton.

We dream of finding a script we can spend the next several years of their life fighting for.

The question isn’t just:

“Is this script good?”

It’s:

“Am I passionate about this project? Do I love it?”

Because producing is a lot of fighting.

  • Fighting for funding.
  • Fighting for attention.
  • Fighting for audiences.
  • Fighting for opportunities.

The projects that actually move forward are often the ones that inspire people to advocate for them, for the long term.

 

We Look for an Audience

This is the place where many writers get uncomfortable.

The moment someone mentions “audience,” some artists hear the word “commercial.”

That’s not what I’m talking about.

Every successful production has an audience.

Even the most experimental play downtown has an audience.

The question is whether anyone knows who that audience is.

Some writers spend years refining a script without ever thinking about who would actually buy a ticket.

Eventually somebody has to ask that question.

Usually it’s the producer.

Submit your script accordingly.

 

Producers Look for a Story That Generates Momentum

A lot of scripts have interesting ideas, and compelling themes.

A lot of librettos have beautiful, well-produced demos.

What they don’t always have is momentum.

What keeps the audience leaning forward?

What creates anticipation?

What makes us eager to know what happens next? Or care?

I’ve sat through readings where everyone thought a script had good things going on, but nobody could figure out where the action was actually going. Or maybe scenes were overwritten, or there was too much “dead space” where the audience disconnected.

That’s a development issue.

And that’s also a reason projects stall.

 

We Look for Characters We Want to Spend Time With

I don’t necessarily mean likable characters.

I mean compelling characters.

When actors get excited about a project, it’s usually because they see a role they can’t wait to play.

When directors get excited, it’s often because they see relationships they want to explore.

When audiences connect, it’s because they recognize something human.

Strong characters create advocates.

Advocates create momentum.

Momentum creates opportunities.

 

We Look for Writers Who Can Develop Work

This is a big one.

Sometimes the question isn’t whether the script is ready.

It’s whether the writer is ready.

You see, theatre is the most collaborative art.

Development is collaborative.

Productions are collaborative.

The writers who move forward are not necessarily the writers who get every note right.

They’re the writers who know how to engage in the process.

They listen.

They evaluate.

They experiment.

They revise.

They don’t necessarily take every note, but they keep an open mind and are willing to try things.

They understand that a reading isn’t the finish line.

It’s information.

The script is no longer just their baby – it’s the team’s.

 

Producers Look for a Path Forward

More than anything else, what I’ve learned from years of working in New York is that projects rarely move forward because someone suddenly “discovers” them.

Most projects move forward because someone can see the next step. And the next one after that.

  • Maybe it’s a reading.
  • Maybe it’s a workshop.
  • Maybe it’s a development lab.
  • Maybe it’s a festival.
  • Maybe it’s a producing partner.

The question isn’t always:

“Can this be produced tomorrow?”

The question is:

“Can I see what the next step is?”

The projects that generate momentum usually have a visible path forward.

 

The Real Question

When writers ask me what producers are looking for, I think they’re often just asking the wrong question.

A better question is:

“What makes someone want to champion my work?”

Because that’s what ultimately moves projects forward.

Not perfection.

Not credentials.

Not winning lots of awards.

Not doing another reading.

Advocates.

People who believe in your project enough to invest their time, energy, relationships, and resources into helping it grow.

That’s why development matters.

The goal isn’t simply to write a good play or musical.

The goal is to develop a project that artists, audiences, and industry professionals can believe in.

That’s when things start moving.

And that’s when the real work begins.

 

Most playwrights and musical theatre writers have spent years learning how to write.

Few have been taught how the industry actually evaluates new work.

 

If you’re serious about getting your work onstage, explore our programs.