I have been a proud member of the Dramatists Guild since 1999, when I made my off-Broadway debut and received a letter from the Guild inviting me to join. It was a pivotal moment in the early stages of my career, a signal that I was on the right track and that I, for better or for worse, was a playwright, something that still sometimes sticks in the back of my throat when I say it out loud.

My teachers at Juilliard, Marsha Norman and Chris Durang, were constantly telling us of the important work the Guild was doing, which, first and foremost, was protecting our copyright: a luxury that screenwriters and television writers don’t have. They explained that joining the Guild was the right and noble thing to do. That our strength was in numbers and in a unified message of solidarity. I admired them so much and took what they had to say about the Guild as gospel. As soon as I was able to join, I did, and I haven’t looked back.

Often when I meet younger or emerging dramatists, I try and convey to them, the way Marsha and Chris did to me, how important I think the Dramatists Guild is. More recently, though, when I mention protecting our copyright, there is some pushback. There’s a sense of, “Yeah, the Guild did that, but that was like a hundred years ago. What has the Guild done for me lately?”

First of all, a lot. And you can go to the website to see all the things the Guild is doing.

But I want to focus on protecting our copyright here. The right to own our work is a battle the Guild fights on a daily basis. And the day the Guild stops fighting it is the day that we lose the battle. Owning our work is what makes the theatre the unique artform that it is. And with Hollywood and tech working more and more in the theatre space, the battle is fiercer than ever. Many of them would like nothing more than to break with tradition and make theatre the way they make film and television, where they own and control our work, and we are hired hands. That is to say, for example, opting to hire a different composer and lyricist to write each song of a musical. Or having the freedom to fire playwrights and book writers at will and have their work doctored, rewritten, or scrapped. Or having the ability to remove writers from the development process, casting process, rehearsal process, or even preview period.

I also sometimes receive pushback about health insurance and why the Guild doesn’t offer it to us the way the WGA does. I don’t think everyone understands that in the WGA, you only get benefits if you make your yearly minimum, which is north of $30,000 in any given year. You also pay a percentage of what you earn toward them (1.5%, before commissions). And your producer also has to pay toward them. Additionally, you pay a minimum flat fee each year to enroll, with additional fees for your dependents, which takes you into the hundreds of dollars. If we were to follow a similar model, it would most likely only apply to our writers who are working on Broadway, as they are the only ones paying assessments (a small percentage of their earnings to the Guild). 

Owning our work is not a given. Just because we won a battle all those years ago, it doesn’t mean that the war is over or that there aren’t more battles coming our way. And even if you aren’t a member, you get to reap the benefits of everything the Guild is doing for all dramatists to ensure that your work remains yours. Isn’t that generous? But if you are a member, you get to be a part of something that is protecting the integrity of our field and ensuring its future. I can’t imagine being a dramatist and not wanting to be a part of that.