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.

The Production-Ready Writers™ 6-Month Play Writing Groups begin in July. (Musical Writing Groups will begin in January.)

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.

Readings Aren’t the Goal. Development is.

Readings Aren’t the Goal. Development is.

Readings Aren’t the Goal. Production Is.

Why so many playwrights get stuck in the development loop—and how to avoid it.

By Cate Cammarata

If you’re writing a new play or musical, at some point you’re going to need to put it in front of an audience.

There is simply no substitute for hearing actors speak your words out loud, seeing where an audience leans in, where they laugh, where they become restless, and where they become emotionally invested.

We need to bring an audience in to learn how the work is landing. That’s why we do readings.

Theaters and producers also need to hear information a script before they invest all the time, money, and resources required to move the script to a full production.

Readings are one of the most useful, economical and practical tools we have in the development process.

I am very much for readings.

But I think our industry has developed a problem.

Too many writers have grown to believe that development itself is the destination.

But it’s not.

Too many projects spend years moving from reading to reading, workshop to workshop, feedback session to feedback session—without ever reaching a production.

And that was never the purpose.

 

A Reading Is a Diagnostic Tool

Think of a reading the way a doctor thinks about an X-ray.

The X-ray isn’t the treatment.

It’s information.

The reading is not the final product.

It’s a way to discover:

  • What is working

  • What is confusing

  • What is emotionally landing

  • Where the pace drags.

  • What questions the audience is left asking it’s done.

The goal is not to accumulate readings.

The goal is to gather information on what should be addressed and revised in order to move the piece forward.

But if a project has had five readings and nothing significant is being changed – the work needs to find a way to a full production.

So then, is the work ready? It depends. What does the feedback actually say?

 

Not All Feedback Is Equal

One of the most important lessons I teach playwrights and musical theatre writers is this:

Always pay attention to who is giving the feedback.

Many writers collect comments from everyone in the room and treat every opinion as equally valuable.

Watch out; that could be dangerous.

Consider:

  • Is the feedback coming from a producer?

  • A literary manager?

  • A dramaturg?

  • A director?

  • An actor?

  • A regular audience member?

Each person is experiencing the work through a different lens:

  • A literary manager may identify issues that affect programming decisions.

  • A ldirector may focus on theatrical execution.

  • An actor may notice problems with character motivation.

An audience member may only know that something “felt off.”

All of those perspectives have value.

But they do not necessarily carry equal weight depending on your goals.

The key is to understand the source before deciding what to do with the information.

 

Listen for Patterns

One isolated comment is just one person’s opinion.

Ten versions of the same comment are data.

One person might say:

“Act Two felt slow.”

Another would admit:

“I lost focus after intermission.”

Someone trying to be helpful would share:

“I wasn’t sure what the protagonist wanted anymore.”

Or add:

“The ending felt farther away than I expected.”

Different words – but the same underlying issue.

When multiple people are pointing toward the same problem—even if they’re describing it differently—the audience is intuiting something important.

That doesn’t automatically mean they know how to fix it (although they may try to rewrite your play on the spot to “help”).

But it usually means they’re correctly identifying a symptom.

Your job is to investigate the cause.

 

The Audience Is Usually Right About Problems

And usually wrong about solutions.

Remember that.

An audience member may accurately identify confusion around a character’s motivation – and then they may propose a scene, a speech, or an entirely new subplot to fix it.

Now, the confusion is valuable information.

Their proposed solution? Not so much.

As the writer, your responsibility is to diagnose the underlying issue and solve it in a way that serves the piece.

 

Trust Your Instincts

No matter how experienced the person giving notes may be, never make a change simply because someone told you to. No matter how famous.

Every revision should pass through your own artistic judgment.

Ask yourself:

  • Does this note resonate to me?

  • Does it reveal a real problem?

  • Does it align with my vision for the piece?

  • Will it make the play stronger?

If the answer is no, don’t make the change.

The work belongs to you. The final decisions belong to you.

A professional writer learns how to listen productively without becoming obsessed by other people’s opinions.

Process every comment through your own filter: your own gut reaction to it.

 

Remember: It’s Your Intellectual Property

This is especially important when production opportunities enter the picture.

Sometimes a theatre, director, producer, or literary manager may request changes before agreeing to produce a script.

Those requests may be reasonable.

They may even lead to improvements.

Or – they may not.

Writers often feel trapped in these situations because production opportunities can be difficult to secure.

Unfortunatlely, I’ve seen it happen too many times.

Here’s what I remind my clients:

The work is your intellectual property.

If you choose to make adjustments to facilitate a production, that is your decision.

But the script remains yours.

You are not permanently surrendering authorship.

After the production ends, you are free to decide which – if any – of those changes belong in future drafts.

The work is yours..

The key is making intentional choices for now instead of feeling pressured into introducing permanent changes into your script. 

 

We Need Better Development Models

The larger issue is that our field often relies too heavily on readings as the primary development mechanism.

Readings are valuable.

They’re essential.

But they’re not enough.

Theatre is a production-based art form.

Certain discoveries only emerge when a piece is staged, designed, rehearsed, and performed in front of a paying audience over time.

The challenge, of course, is cost.

Productions require resources.

Readings are comparatively inexpensive, which is why many promising projects remain trapped in “developmental hell.”

As an industry, we need more innovative, practical, and sustainable ways to move readings into productions.

We need models that allow artists to test work in front of audiences in spaces that don’t require enormous budgets.

We need pathways that help writers move beyond endless feedback cycles and toward actual production experiences.

Those questions—and the future of developing theatre—are topics I explore regularly in my Creative Producer emails each Friday.

Because the goal isn’t another reading.

The goal is helping great plays and musicals find their way to the stage.


About CreateTheater

At CreateTheater, we help playwrights and musical theatre writers develop producible work—not just polished scripts. Through dramaturgy, development labs, strategic feedback, and production-focused guidance, we help writers move from draft to audience to production with intention.

Development is a step. Production is the destination.

Want more practical strategies for moving plays and musicals from development to production?

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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!