Prefer this as a video? Watch here!
Prefer this as a podcast? Coming soon!
Hello! Welcome to my weekly newsletter!
Enjoy a dose of my playwriting process,
writing confessions, and all the mess in between.
Here’s what nobody tells you when you start writing plays:
You may not find your voice in your first script.
Scratch that: you will not.
Maybe not in your second.
Or third.
Or fourth.
But you will find it eventually.
And when you do, god, it’ll feel good. Like something clicks. Like coming home.
But even then… it might change.
Because this is art.
Art evolves. Art shifts. Nothing is final. Nothing is forever.
So don’t rush to define yourself.
After writing four full-lengths, four shorts, and countless half-finished fragments, I’ve finally settled on what I think my voice is.
Crudely and simply put? Weird shit.
And I’ve wrapped it in a neat bow: Stubborn plays that push too far.
Because not only am I stubborn, that I do whatever I want.
My plays take on that voice too. It makes their own choices.
My characters do things that are unexpected.
My stories goes to places you might not expect.
But still, there’s a lot of heart, amongst the weird shit nonetheless.
Some call it post-modern.
Some call it post-dramatic.
Some find those terms problematic.
Some call it absurdist
Some call it surrealist.
And others assume what those labels mean.
Whatever. Who cares, sincerely.
I’ve stopped worrying.
I just write it.
Maybe your voice is different.
Maybe you champion minority stories.
Maybe you write tragedy.
Maybe you write bold, woo wah epics.
Maybe comedy is your superpower.
Or maybe you’re brilliant at tight, gut-punching shorts.
Whatever it is, don’t box yourself in too early. Or ever.
It’s really up to you and where you see yourself going.
So explore. Play. Let your voice reveal itself to you.
But here’s the trap:
Once you do find your voice, you might start worrying:
“How do I stay true to it?”
“Does this new idea fit my brand?”
“What if I’m writing something that doesn’t sound like me?”
My advice?
Don’t care about it.
Seriously.
(that’s what I’m telling myself now, because I feel like that’s my future)
Because if it’s genuinely you, your plays will come out as you.
Your voice is not something you force.
It’s underlying in your current.
It’s something that seeps through every line, every image, every scene you write.
So just keep writing.
Keep exploring.
Keep searching.
Keep doing.
You’ll find it.
Trust me.
Do you have an inkling what your playwright voice is? Let me know!