Chapter 1: The Power of Collaboration

At first glance, participating in the rehearsal of a play you have authored may not seem like an effective method for relinquishing your ego. However, my experience during the initial table read with the cast, director, and stage manager revealed otherwise. After they finished reading, the cast erupted in applause, showering my script with compliments.

Then the real work began.

As the actors delved into their characters’ motivations, the director provided insightful feedback. They posed questions to gain a deeper understanding of the characters and the overall vision for the play. Yet, it was evident they were also identifying parts that required cuts or adjustments, highlighting what needed emphasis and choosing different perspectives. In this collaborative environment, I was no longer the sole creator of the play.

When we transitioned to staging the production later that afternoon, I found myself contributing very little. Remarkably, this was a positive development.

Writers often grapple with their own egos, feeling possessive over their written words and preoccupied with how to express their distinctive voice. We worry not just about our work's reception but also about perceptions of ourselves as individuals.

In her essay collection, "Intimations," Zadie Smith articulates that writing is more about control than creativity:

"Those were tulips. I wanted them to be peonies. In my narrative, they are, they will be, they were, and they shall forever be peonies — for, when I write, space and time itself bend to my will!"

Ironically, Smith consciously refrains from placing too much emphasis on her role as the singular "creator." Yet, her words illustrate how deeply we perceive our writing as uniquely ours. Regardless of whether we craft prose or poetry, we often feel a strong attachment to our words, defending them against criticism and insisting on their preservation, albeit with minor edits from astute editors. Our egos play a significant role in this attachment.

However, this possessiveness cannot apply to playwriting.

I recently shared my excitement about my debut as a playwright in an article for Long. Sweet. Valuable, eager to witness my creation brought to life on stage. Yet, allowing the actors to fulfill their roles necessitated my release of the script.

I am not a director. I am not an actor. I am not a stage manager. I am merely a writer.

Having completed my part, I had to trust others to execute theirs.

The outcome? A play transformed from its original script into something even more compelling.

Theatre is inherently a collaborative art form.

While it’s true that no art form has a single creator, the presence of editors, publishers, cover designers, and marketers often allows one author's name to dominate the published piece.

In contrast, a theatre production includes multiple contributors:

• Written by…
• Directed by…
• Starring…
• Produced by…

And let’s not overlook the contributions of costume designers, set designers, lighting, and sound technicians, among others.

Though it’s easy to cling to one’s ego when writing a novel, poetry collection, or essays, such attachment is untenable in playwriting. The collaborative nature of the medium compels you to release your ego.

This realization leads me to encourage all writers to try their hand at crafting a play script and seeing it performed, whether by professional theatre artists, a local amateur group, or even friends in a casual setting.

By allowing others to take on their roles, you will learn to let go of your ego.

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