A   R O U N D T A B L E   D I S C U S S I O N

with CHE'RAE ADAMS (PlayPenn), JESSICA BIRD BEZA (Playwrights Foundation), SEAN-JOSEPH CHOO (Kamamo House), and EMILY MORSE (New Dramatists), and moderated by MARISSA JOYCE STAMPS

Marissa Joyce Stamps: I’m Marissa. I use she/her pronouns. I’m coming at you all as a playwright and Literary Manager at the Workshop Theatre and Co-Resident Dramaturg at Conch Shell Productions. And, as a little icebreaker, [let’s share] a song to describe, in this current moment, your relationship to the American theatre. 

Because I had time to think about this, I would say that my song is “The Weekend” by SZA. I’ll take the weekend for theatre, and everyone else can have theatre during the weekdays. 

Che’Rae Adams: Hello everyone, it is great to share this virtual space with you. I’m Che’Rae Adams, my pronouns are she/her and I’m the Artistic Director at PlayPenn in Philadelphia, which is the homeland of the Lenape people. There’s a song I listen to every morning called “No Bad Days.” Has anybody ever heard of it? It’s by Macklemore, and it’s extremely upbeat. The story of the song is about how every day needs to start fresh, on a positive note, which is really uplifting because what we do can be difficult at times. 

Sean-Joseph Choo: Nice to meet you all. My name is Sean-Joseph Takeo Kahaokalani Choo. I am a queer, multi-ethnic, multi-hyphenate theatre artist, the hyphenates being composer, actor, and playwright. My company, Kamamo House, is named after my hapa Hawaiian grandmother, Eloise Tsuru Kamamo Choo. And the song I’m thinking of, it’s more like the soundtrack because I don’t know all the songs… I just rewatched Labyrinth on the plane recently. And the vibe of dancing goblins with David Bowie feels right: confusing, disorienting, sometimes fun, sometimes frustrating.

Emily Morse: All right, Emily Morse. She/her. I’m the Artistic Director of New Dramatists, a playwright development organization that supports playwrights through free seven-year residencies. In my rapid-fire Googling, three songs came up for me. I know you asked for one and I have three, and I think the first speaks a little bit to Che’Rae’s point.

There’s a song called “I Woke Up Today” by Port O’Brien. It’s an upbeat and joyful song we played for my son as his morning get ready for school motivator. “I woke up today in a very special way.” So, there’s that. “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga. And “Break My Soul” by Beyonce, in other words, you won’t break my soul. That’s what I’m thinking right now, Marissa. 

Marissa Joyce Stamps: I feel you on that one. I do. 

Jessica Bird Beza: Yeah, I will round it out over here. Jessica from Playwrights Foundation, Executive Artistic Director since like 2019. Playwrights Foundation is in San Francisco on the land of the Ramaytush Ohlone people. And the song that popped into my head is “Rise Up” by Andra Day. The idea of feeling broken down and tired but we’re going to rise up. We’re going to move some mountains. Many of us are still very tired, but we keep going. 

Marissa Joyce Stamps: Thank you for that. Thank you for entertaining that question. Because we’ve got some varying vibes, I’d like to start with Che’Rae and Sean. Can you describe, in relation to new work, how those songs are resonating for you in this current moment? 

Che’Rae Adams: Sure, “No Bad Days” helps me keep things in perspective. PlayPenn went through a difficult period before I came on. There was community healing to be done when I came to Philadelphia in 2022, and it continues today. Keeping a positive attitude and believing that PlayPenn can bounce back is crucial. Knowing what is most important is key: that the playwrights continue to be served. Focusing on that is important to our daily work. 

Sean-Joseph Choo: I’m resonating with this care for people and healing that you said, Che’Rae. Which is I part of the reason why I even started Kamamo House. I suppose you could call the position I occupy and work I do similar to an artistic director. But the way in which I gather folks and how I steward their time and resources I feel is in contradiction in some ways to how the American theatre organizes itself. So, I like to call myself the head jester and lead steward of Kamamo House. I also do arts advocacy, trying my best to encourage folks to be involved in testifying for arts funding legislation and sharing tools and methodologies about how to organize and advocate for oneself as an artist. 

In regard to the song, I feel like magic goblins dancing with Bowie feels chaotic and confusing. New work feels sometimes cool and engaging and interesting, but also there’s a lot of unknowns, and that can be scary.

Trying to create time and space for new work can feel labyrinthian. And in terms of my relationship with the theatre world across the states, I feel like I’m far away, but I try to stay in touch with what’s happening in the continent, or on the various islands in Hawai‘i (I am based on O‘ahu). 

Marissa Joyce Stamps: Thank you for that. I’m definitely going to circle back to some points that you all made. But I want to give Emily and Jessica a chance to talk on their songs. 

Jessica Bird Beza: I feel like [“Rise Up” is] such an honest song of the depth of challenges [and] also hope. Over these past four years, talking with both writers and theatres, it feels like an uphill climb and that everything is changing. But we’re going to keep moving through this, and we’re going to keep trying to find solutions. I also think we’re going through a momentous time of change right now. 

Emily Morse: Marissa’s a Princess Grace Fellow and one of the resource playwrights for PlayTime, a program we’re currently running at New Dramatists. During one of the daily tea times, we were talking about the love/hate relationship to theatre; how, sometimes it’s like, “time to go,” and other times, it’s, “theatre, I can’t quit you.” And is that healthy? So “Bad Romance” was a little bit in response to that pre-discussion conversation Marissa and I were having.

The past four years have presented many challenges to arts and cultural organizations, and that was certainly true of New Dramatists — matters we’re still processing and sorting through. During this time, some friends who are also ND-affiliated sent me “Break My Soul” as encouragement to hang in there. I think about this song and its relationship to the work we do running organizations, serving missions, and working in service of the visions of the artists we support and what we need to do to sustain all of that.
The work we do — facilitating process and supporting artists in discovering, generating, exploring, and making their work on their own terms — requires a deep commitment and investment of time, energy, attention, patience, responsiveness, and creative ingenuity — in a word, Love. It’s not only important for the artists we serve; it’s work that contributes to a healthy theatre eco-system. It’s private, not necessarily public work that has enormous impact on the artists, the community, and the field. “I Woke Up” is how I feel every morning: I woke up. I’m here. What’s my job today? How am I going to show up for my work? How am I going to show up for my family? How am I going to show up for our staff and the artists to whom we are investing and have committed this time and space?

And take care of ourselves and our own creative impulses, too.

Che’Rae Adams: I think it’s important to celebrate the little victories, no matter how small they are. I met with a playwright today who was having trouble moving forward with their play, and we came up with something together that unblocked them. For me, that is cause for celebration! Acknowledging and honoring what’s working and slowly and mindfully moving through the things that are not.  

Emily Morse: I appreciate that. That’s a great perspective. 

Marissa Joyce Stamps: Something that is coming up in this conversation in relation to the strife and the self-care is how the structure — especially within the past three years post-COVID (or COVID prime, I should say) — of new play development has changed. And I feel like as a playwright, that there’s a lot of guesswork involved in what exactly and how has the structure changed, or not being able to fully understand how it changed until I’m in the midst of a process.

And then, I can’t support myself because I’m actively responding in the moment to these structural changes that I didn’t know existed to begin with. So, other than, “This theatre is closing down,” or “The funding is being lost,” how, from the ground level, has this structure of new work development changed within the past four years, and where do you see it going? Or, what is the current trend? I think demystifying that is really helpful and can offer playwrights some grounding perspective as to how we can introduce processes.

Che’Rae Adams: I think the obvious one is that we couldn’t be in the room with each other for a while which ended up opening doors for us in a way. Pivoting to online forged a way forward that could serve more playwrights with less funding, regardless of being in the same room as them. We also created virtual spaces for writers to be with each other in order to combat the loneliness and isolation we all felt. Cohorts, writing rooms, classes, online programming, etc. Sometimes your challenges can be your greatest gifts.

PlayPenn has kept virtual options in place because it allows us to reach a larger audience and to work with a larger artistic demographic. For example, we produced a reading of a DeLanna Studi’s new play, I Is For Invisible, in August. She was able to use the Indigenous actors and dramaturg she wanted because we conducted the workshop online. Typically, it would be financially impossible to bring those actors to Philly. We overcame that obstacle [and] the playwright got what she needed, which is always our goal.

I also think that the idea of serving as many playwrights as we can — with less funding than we have ever had before — is a huge challenge. PlayPenn was able to start a Playwrights Cohort that’s mostly online, where the sessions focus on how to navigate the industry: what does it mean to have an agent vs. a manager, how do you go about getting published, and what kind of agency do playwrights have in the rehearsal room? We have 29 Philly playwrights in the Cohort now, but we will be opening it up to a larger geographical area next year. We wouldn’t necessarily be able to do that if we required them to meet in person.

Jessica Bird Beza: At Playwrights Foundation we’ve had a lot of success in a hybrid model by putting readings and events online. It’s still the main way folks interact with us, audience-wise, although we are producing the Bay Area Playwrights Festival right now and might see a change to that dynamic.
I think we are going deeper and making a bigger impact, instead of doing a lot of small eight-to-ten-hour readings for playwrights. We have reimagined our programs; the Bay Area Playwrights Festival used to be annual [and] is now biennial, so we can support the playwrights for a year leading up to the public festival with multiple phases of development prior to that.
[We used to] cram this all into two-and-a-half weeks, because that’s when everybody’s in person. Being hybrid has given us the opportunity to expand it with online meetings, table reads, and different touch points. It does still cost more, and we’re putting more resources into it, but the hybrid nature of it gives more options. We are also looking at how we deepen our Resident Playwright program, how we’re giving more money to the playwrights that we’re supporting — more development resources as well as advocacy, so hopefully the work and playwrights move on to greater success. Everyone’s resources are strapped, and folks are downsizing their seasons. They don’t have as much time to review work. So, we’re giving more support to have stronger work when it goes on somewhere else. What I think has not shifted is that the most important things in this business are cultivating relationships and finding your advocates. That can be someone at an organization. It can be a director. It can be an actor.

I do think folks have less time right now to sit down and read work. So [they] are relying more on recommendations, or what lists are out there, or what’s happening at the new play development organizations. Sometimes the play gets produced because a director put it forward, not because the artistic director or associate artistic director found it. 

Marissa Joyce Stamps: What you’re saying about relationships resonates with me, being a younger playwright and having friends who are even younger and just starting. It feels like scripts are being read less due to lack of resources. The “vibes,” for lack of a better word, can feel very competitive, and the energy between the playwright and the institution can feel very transactional from a playwright’s perspective of, “Hi! Can I take you out to coffee?” Or “I’m inviting you to this play…”

And both sides understand that. But there’s a lot of, “No, playwrights; you should be doing this!” So, what is the balance from the playwright’s perspective of [having] the agency to do that in the first place [and] knowing that there’s these hierarchies that exist. And from the artistic admin perspective, what are different models we can put in place to meet new writers and actually develop relationships, rather than one-off interactions? 

Che’Rae Adams: At PlayPenn, the playwright chooses their creative teams, so it’s important that they develop relationships with directors, dramaturgs, actors, stage mangers, and designers. In fact, the other day we hosted a roundtable of 40 Philly artists where they shared their interests and passions with each other and then connected about collaborating in the future. They were all so honest and vulnerable, it was so lovely to be a part of. I think we need to keep doing this, because relationships with the community, especially the artists in the community, is the fuel that drives PlayPenn. If I am not approachable to artists in the community, then I’m not doing something right. The other sort of policy that is in place that assists us with inclusion is our annual Conference submission policy. There is no fee for the playwright to submit their script and the submissions are blind. Anyone can apply. Someone who wrote a play for the first time can submit and so can a seasoned playwright. Looking at [our] submission policy through an equitable lens was a big part of our process as well. For the 2022 Conference, we matched the demographics of the readers with the demographics of the writers so that we could thwart implicit bias. We are in the business of developing plays, so we want each script to have the best possible chance of advancing. 

Emily Morse: I was thinking about this, too. And there are times when I’m sure all of us get invited to speak to college/university groups of playwrights or directors. And inevitably the question is, “How do I make a career as a playwright in New York City?” And sometimes my response is to look laterally — to your fellow classmates. Because this is a community and network you already have at your disposal. 

It seems we can get hyperfocused on one way of building a career which can interfere with seeing the resources right next to or nearby you. How can artists be resources and advocates for each other? Who do you know who knows a particular artistic director you would like to meet, and how can that friend/colleague be a path to an introduction? What are the spaces you inhabit, to Che’Rae’s point, into which you can invite people? 

We all need those relationships throughout our careers and art making. It’s not just artists earlier in their careers, although understandably, at the beginning of a career, there are fewer building blocks in place.

It’s important to have a sense of what you’re after with your work, who your audience is or might be and producing organizations or entities would be an organic fit. At least as a place to start. Look at the production seasons of the theatres you’re interested in; who do you know who has been produced there, has worked there? And how does the whole constellation start to form for you as you’re building your career? And I think it starts in your own community. 

Also, look a little beyond New York. What are the opportunities that exist in other places for you to hear and listen to your own voice for a while?

Marissa Joyce Stamps: Yeah, that makes sense. I think what’s really resonating for me, and I think will resonate with a lot of people, is operating and moving about from a lateral modality, because whatever it is, moving about laterally and in community is really where the meat of all of this is happening. 

Jessica Bird Beza: Everybody thinks you need to go to the top. But the people closest around you are sometimes your biggest advocates. It could be that early career director who you had a conversation with, or a playwright who helped connect you to someone else. I’ve seen so many playwrights be generous. Although, I will say I think there’s maybe a little more generous spirit on the west coast than sometimes on the east coast, where I feel like we’re often like, how do we share resources? How do we connect people to other folks?

It really comes down to genuine relationships, and I always highly encourage people to see everyone around them as valuable, not just those in positions of power.
Teresa Sapien over at Arena Stage just wrote a good article at Playwrights Ream about how to approach folks at an organization as well, so I don’t want to repeat all her points but encourage folks to read that [see p. 47].

Sean, in your experience as like a writer and an artist, where are some things you’ve seen success or come up against challenges? 

Sean-Joseph Choo: I mean, you know, all of it’s kind of new. Even new play [development] — I don’t even know why I’m here. It’s— [Laughter]

Marissa Joyce Stamps: You’re meant to be here. Period. 

Sean-Joseph Choo: Thank you. And I do — I realize when I was invited to this, I was like, do I do new work development? Oh, I do. But yeah, it’s interesting to me because the challenges, the experiences, everything is very new. You know, for six years, I was working at Honolulu Theatre for Youth (HTY) doing original, sometimes devised, work. So I’m used to that kind of rhythm of building or being a part of producing new work. By the way, I never went to grad school. I just was lucky to have been at the right place at the right time and hired at HTY. Thanks, Alvin Chan. Because if I wasn’t employed at HTY, I don’t think I’d be where I’m at right now. So, when I think about developing work, I would be remiss, as someone who honors and respects elders and who was raised in cultures that prioritize that, if I didn’t mention those who have built a foundation for me to grow as an artist, starting with my family. I first fell in love with theatre at my high school, Kamehameha Kapalama, under the guidance of my teacher, Patrick Fujioka. I fell in love with the craft with my acting professor at Leeward Community College, Dr. Paul Cravath. 

More recently, early in the pandemic, in 2020, there was a Zoom play reading group that started with elders such as Jackie Pualani Johnson, retired drama professor from the University of Hawai’i at Hilo, and Victoria Nalani Kneubuhl, who’s one of my writer heroes and mentors. And I think just reading plays with them and being in community with them— that has been mentioned before, that value of being together. 

Lee Cataluna is another writing hero of my mine, who I have had the honor of learning from and collaborating with on many projects through the years. I have had the same honor and pleasure working with Moses Goods, Junior Tesoro (my theatre “dad” and Jester Teacher), and Reiko Ho, sharing meals and drinks and talks, and creating art together. And being in community with other Wahine female elders has been foundational. Just reading plays or talking, having that access. Like, what do you think about this thing in my play? That has been my new work development.

And so, when I gather people, it’s not as formal. It’s me and some friends in my community room, like, “Oh, hey, you want to show something? Okay, let’s do a works in progress thing next month sometime.” So, a lot of it is more informal, but also, I see my work as artist development because there are so limited opportunities—besides dancing at a lu‘au or working at a resort or Honolulu Theatre for Youth—for theatre artists to professionally be compensated. I think a lot of my work is, “Hey, have you written something? How’s that play you told me about two years ago? How’s that going?” Because I want to put it up. Let’s have a reading. Get some feedback. Whatever you want to do. And now you’re a writer, not because you graduated from a creative writing program at a prestigious school, but because you have taken the time to write. I think that encouragement for me has been helpful, like talking about challenges or confusion in my career. People who are further along in the path before me who have just been like, “Hey, Sean, that looks cool; keep going.” 

That has meant the world to me. Or just being in this virtual space has meant the world to me because it’s like, oh, yeah, I’m at the table. But also, hey, we’re interested in what you have to say, or what your play is talking about. And I want to keep passing that on. 

Emily Morse: I appreciate what you’re saying, Sean; sometimes play development is allowing time to sit with something in the company of other people. Which also speaks to your point, Marissa, or your question. Sometimes there’s a rush to get a play in front of the industry in hopes that if a theatre is interested in the play, they might invest more resources in further development. That being said, you might only get that one shot in front of an audience of industry colleagues, and if the play isn’t quite ready, then what? From my perspective, and with the seven years of support New Dramatists offers playwrights, the writers can afford to take time with how they develop their work. They don’t have to answer every question about the play in one reading. It’s an iterative process, and there’s more to be gain by focusing on the art and the process, and then inviting the industry in when you’re really ready. I consider it part of my job to encourage an art/creative focus practice, and from there, build relationships and a career more organically. It’s your voice that attracts collaborators, audience, and producers. This is part of our jobs, too, to reflect back to the artists we work with that the art making path and career making path are not separate trajectories. I feel like the only way to really make a career is to focus on art making. I think that’s part of play development or playwright development, to keep reminding and encouraging and supporting the artist to be creative in not just what they’re making but how they’re making it.

I have sat with playwrights wrestling with writing from impulse or writing towards what they see in the market. My response is, you can write for the market, and it still doesn’t guarantee you’re going to get a production. So, write from your soul, because at least you can recognize it as yours.

Marissa Joyce Stamps: I am really glad that you brought that up, because I hear that question in writers groups. If an artistic director or literary manager is brought in, a playwright will ask, “Well, what makes a NAME OF THEATRE play?” And that question… it’s just a really exhausting—and for lack of a better word, depressing—question. Because then you know that off the jump, there’s the want to fit into or sort of break away like the core, what one’s play is, into a specific theatre.

So that really resonates with me, because I’m like… write what you actually want and the people who want to bring you into their space will do that. 

It also makes me think about the discussion that we were having the other day, Emily, about how playwright-centered institutions like y’all’s have the funds to develop the work. Like, actual development. And these theatre companies that are regional, off-Broadway, Broadway, have the funds to produce. I’m curious what y’all think about future models to balance the producing aspect, so that while in the midst of producing, institutions can recognize that at the end of the day, this is a play. This is the playwright’s thing. How can we support a playwright who is still figuring out what the play is in the middle of production? Or, even if they feel as though prior to production the play is already figured out, adding design, directorial vision, and actors in real time can also shift what a play is. I guess I’m curious about what a future in that partnership can look like. 

Che’Rae Adams: PlayPenn has been primarily working in partnership with other organizations for the last two years. It is, of course, a practical thing because it’s so hard to fundraise these days. Donor burn-out is a real thing and some major grantors are changing what they fund. The honor and joy of being able to partner with like-minded organizations who have a similar mission to ours has been invaluable to us. One of our first partnerships was with the Sol Project, which allowed us to provide the playwright with more visibility. We produced the Philly workshop of eppchez yo-sí yes’ new play Publik Private and then moved to The Sol Fest in New York a few weeks later. We are in the early stages of a more permanent partnership, similar to what Ojai/CTG and Breaking the Binary/Steppenwolf/Willy Mammoth have announced. New play development organizations partnering with regional theatres to develop and produce new work makes sense for many reasons. The sharing of resources is the obvious benefit, but it also provides a pipeline from page to stage. I think this trend is about two entities—one steeped in tradition and legacy, the other experimental and risk taking—entering into a partnership so that the strengths of each institution can embolden the other. It is a rare opportunity in the American Theatre, where two organizations with completely different business models can join forces in order to flourish. There is no better time than now, and why not? The regional theatre model is in need of revamping in order to survive. Post-pandemic, theatres are no longer selling tickets or receiving donations from individual donors on the same level that they did pre-pandemic. Similarly, new play development organizations such as The Lark, Sundance Theatre Lab, and ATL’s Humana Festival have closed. The organizations here today are three of fewer than twenty new play development organizations across the country, and only a few of those are part of a larger entity. Doesn’t it make sense to ban together to achieve success instead of folding due to lack of funding? We must change our thinking in order to effectively change the outcome.

For example, PlayPenn started partnering with Philadelphia Theatre Company on workshops such as Roger Q. Mason’s The Duat, which is going up at PTC in June. In July we will partner with them again on a new Ty Defoe play. What’s nice about this alliance is that everybody wins. The theatres are benefitting from the development process in that the play is more production ready. We are in the business of moving plays forward, so these kinds of collaborations have been crucial for us and will continue to be a more permanent part of our infrastructure in the future.

PlayPenn looks within our community for partnerships first. There are some amazing theatres here, and very talented artists. And with all our programming, we use local talent to complete the playwright’s creative team such as actors, dramaturgs, stage managers, and directors. Our interns are usually local students from Drexel University or Philadelphia Young Playwrights. Our community members are also script readers for the Conference and then they circle back to eventually become valued audience members who offer feedback to the playwrights. [The community is] involved in the process from beginning to end.

Jessica Bird Beza: I’ve been sitting here thinking about how Emily said that this work comes from the soul, and I think that’s one of the big shifts at Playwrights Foundation. We’re not just focused on the play development and the product alone as the end goal. Talking about values, a writer’s purpose, and what impact they want to create in the world leads to better work. We need to create spaces where writers and all artists in the process can risk and be brave, which looks different than many of our current producing models.

Emily Morse: There [is] something essential about what a playwright learns about their play by having their work in front of an audience. What is the play beyond the production? How can and does it grow beyond production? Is it doing what the playwright intended? And you can only learn this through production. The production is finite, but the play is eternal.

Also, what happens to the depth and quality of the work when we can all afford to bring our full selves to each project on which we’re working? We need more TIME to build meaningful and purposeful work. Why, when looking at bottom lines, do we cut time, or artistic programming? I don’t get that. What are we doing? 

Marissa Joyce Stamps: Everything that you all have said is really resonating with me, and I think will resonate with everyone who will read this and is in a place of love and hate and frustration with theatre. But, working together in community and really in service of the playwright will always win. Always prevail. To round off this roundtable, I feel like naturally we’ve come to a place where I’m curious — this is very business. But it can also come from a place of the heart. What is your forecast for the future of new work development in the next… let’s say four years. 

Che’Rae Adams: Again, I think there’s a possibility of a future where new play development will be supported by larger institutions. Otherwise, I think that there is a possibility that the smaller organizations may be in jeopardy. At PlayPenn, we are exploring support systems that we have not anticipated exploring in the past. It’s a new day. The challenge for us when entering partnerships is to protect and preserve the playwrights’ process, keeping it as free from outside pressures and distraction as possible. 

Sean-Joseph Choo: I feel like I just kind of am formulating my values for Kamamo House. The acronym I made recently to encapsulate my values or how I want to do work is mala, which is the Hawaiian word for garden. I feel like what we do in new work development is cultivating and growing. And it takes time to grow things.

In terms of the future, my perspective is shifting from the art of focusing on artmaking or craft making to a greater sense of what we’re talking about today. The art of cultivating one another, and refocusing maybe in some ways on the art. And sharing that with people. And it is not just to consume. Like, a garden isn’t just for harvesting. A garden is for enjoying what we have and sharing it with other people. That’s my hope, at least. 

Emily Morse: Yeah, it’s like, slow down. I know it feels counterintuitive, but more time to wander, meander, and play.

Jessica Bird Beza: I hope for processes to be more playwright-centered, not only at playwright and new work organizations but also at producing organizations.

Emily Morse: More artist-driven producing models. There’s frustration and impatience with the waiting to be chosen. It’s already happening: artists and supporters coming together to produce each other’s work. The Pool is a great model. That’s part of the future, too. There’s going [to be] new models popping up born of artists experimenting with producing models that support the work they’re making instead of having to retrofit the work into what already exists. How does the world building they do as writers and theatre makers inform what kind of models we might see in the future? 

Sean-Joseph Choo: Yes. Now when you say “popping up,” do you mean like goblins popping up? 

Marissa Joyce Stamps: With David Bowie? 

Emily Morse: Yes. With David Bowie. I’d buy that ticket.