Children's Plays: The Middle Child of the Theatre

 By J.S. Puller

 

Those of us who spell the word “theatre” in the correct way (and I have fought more than one editor about this) have a tendency to quote the great acting teacher Konstantin Sergeyevich Stanislavski liberally.  His name is sacred, said in a hushed whisper that others would reserve for prayer.  “Stanislavski says you should do it this way.”  “Oh, let’s do it the Stanislavski way.”  “You can’t argue with Stanislavski’s Method.”  While my feelings on method acting border on blasphemy, I have to give credit where it’s due; Stanislavski got one thing right when, in a possibly apocryphal anecdote, he commented to one of his students, “We act for children the same way we act for adults—only better.”  Would that every theatre practitioner saw things this way.

THE PROBLEM

All too often, theatre for young audiences is treated as the forgotten middle child of the theatrical world.  It’s seen as a money-making addendum to the regular season, a throwaway matinee piece worked by second-tier actors, while the headliners memorize Ibsen and Shakespeare.  Visit the website of a theatre company that isn’t dedicated to theatre for young audiences.  Their children’s programming—if they have any—will be buried in a submenu somewhere, or down at the bottom of the homepage.

In some cities, it’s less desirable for a performer to even bother auditioning for children’s theatre.  Maybe theatre for young audiences isn’t even eligible for awards season.  In Chicago it’s not.  Sometimes, the cast don’t even get to have their bios in a Playbill, while the mainstage performers are featured and lauded and applauded.

Worse still, theatres are often afraid to take risks when it comes to what they present to young audiences.  My undergraduate mentor, Rives Collins, used to refer to this as the “tyranny of titles.”  You’re more likely to find a “name brand” form of entertainment—a variation of Cinderella or other famous fairy tale, a recognizable musical like You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown, or an adaptation of a popular movie such as Shrek—than you are to find something ambitious, something new, something that tackles issues facing young audiences in the world we live in, rather than the world of “once upon a time.”

And what a pity that is, especially as theatre for young audiences can often serve as a gateway drug into the larger world for children.  As Whitney put it, “I believe the children are our future.”

THE POTENTIAL

 I have a whole soapbox diatribe that I often present when talking about the importance of arts education, and particularly theatre.  This largely stems from research I’ve done with the University of Chicago Consortium on School Research and Ingenuity, Inc.  To summarize it quickly: “Exposure to arts opportunities allows students and teachers to engage with one another in a way that often stands in contrast to how they engage with each other in the context of regular academic instruction and that provides rich opportunities for social-emotional learning [and]…arts education can be a powerful force in supporting students’ social-emotional development.”  Social-emotional development includes skills such as self-discipline, interpersonal skills, and empathy.  Read more of the research here. 

But why would they bother with the theatre at all when they’re served a fare that’s mediocre, that isn’t given the same attention and dedication as the adult work?

Here sits a perfect opportunity to talk to children and reach them.  And it’s being wasted.

THE CALL TO ACTION

It has been an honor to serve as a guest blogger for SCBWI this month.  I’ve enjoyed the opportunity to experiment with a new medium and reach a new audience.  As my month comes to an end, I want to use my final post as a call to action.  I believe that children deserve the best of the best, in order to benefit from theatre for young audiences.  And I have the audacity to rewrite Stanislovski, making it “We write for children the same way we write for adults—only better.”

When I began the month posting to the SCBWI blog, I talked about how my experience writing for children’s theatre and how the advice I gave my writing students taught me how to give advice.  Now is the time I when I try to rally the troops, so to speak.  To energize and ignite you fabulous authors out there.  And give you a new avenue to consider.  Children’s theatre needs fresh perspectives and stories that matter.

So I say to you: Turn your novels into plays!

There is so much power in SCBWI.  We’re an organization of award-winning authors writing award-winning stories.  This is a new way to share your stories.  Write plays!  Not only will it spread your work, but I believe it can revive the wheezy and troubled children’s theatre scene.  We’re all in this business to help children; whether it’s to teach them, reach them, or just entertain for a little while.  Let’s use the power of the theatre to empower them in return.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. S. Puller is a playwright and author from the Windy City, Chicago. She has a master’s degree in elementary education and a bachelor’s degree in theatre from Northwestern University. She is an award-winning member of the American Alliance for Theatre and Education. When not writing, she can usually be found in the theatre. She is the author of two novels, CAPTAIN SUPERLATIVE and THE LOST THINGS CLUB. She also has several published plays, including: WOMEN WHO WEAVE (Playscripts, Inc.), PERSEUS AND MEDUSA - IT'S ALL GREEK TO ME! (Lazybee Scripts), and THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD (Stage Rights).

Website: pullerwrites.wordpress.com

Twitter: twitter.com/pullerwrites

Facebook: facebook.com/puller.writes

How I Learned to Stop Panicking and Give Actual Advice

By J.S. Puller

Psychiatrists say that the five stages of grief are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.  Lesser known are the five stages of being invited to be a guest blogger for the SCBWI blog.  These include surprise, elation, abject terror, PANIC!!!, and finally an oddly restful sense of calm, similar to, although not quite the same as, the aforementioned acceptance.  Truthfully, I didn't know any of these stages existed until I received the immensely gracious invitation from Lee Wind, to whom I'm so very grateful.

ABJECT TERROR AND PANIC

I won't walk you through all of these stages, as I hope they somewhat speak for themselves.  Suffice it to say that after the shock and delight of the invitation wore off, I was left with the horror of asking myself two questions (over and over and over...).  First: Do I have any actual advice to offer other writers?  Second: Just who am I to offer in the first place?

Well, spoiler alert, I'm not going to be able to answer that second question ever.  The imposter syndrome is strong with my generation, and I have not escaped its dark clutches.  The wonderful thing is, this blog post isn't about me.  It isn't about my resume or my accomplishments (or lack thereof).  Rather, it's about what I have to offer as a writer.

I struggled a lot in answering the first question though.  What advice could I possibly give other human beings, many of whom are probably more accomplished, more secure in who they are, more successful than I'll ever be?  In the weeks leading up to July, I went back and forth a lot with how to begin my stint as guest blogger, rejecting multiple ideas.  And just like something out of a story, the answer came from the last place I expected.

CHILD’S PLAY

I began my writing career as a playwright, absolutely determined to win the Tony Award for either Best Play or Best Book of a Musical.  The truth was a hard pill to swallow: The American Theatre Wing doesn't really acknowledge children's theatre.  Or any theatre that doesn't make it all the way to Broadway.  Nevertheless, I had some tremendous experiences in my playwriting career with some incredible theatre companies.  One of them was the Growing Stage Theatre in New Jersey, where I was fortunate enough to have my first production in an Equity House, a play called THE BOX OF STORIES.  I loved working with the Growing Stage.  And I still do.

Since the beginning of their Playwriting Festival for Young Writers, I've been afforded the honor of serving as a mentor playwright for one of the four students chosen to develop a script with the company, each festival.  Helping young people take their scripts to the next level is a wonderful experience.  The thrill of parenting, the thrill of being a teacher, all without any of the long-term responsibilities required of these roles.  Which is probably a good thing, since I can't even keep a plant watered in the long term.

When I was wrapping up my work with this year's student, I asked her if she had any questions.  She told me she was nervous about finding the right tone for her play.  She wanted to write something raw and real, with sharp language and a hard-to-swallow message.  But she was afraid that it would scare away what she considered the most likely audience, young people.  Throughout the process, she toyed around with toning down the language, playing up messages that ended with hope for the future.  This would make her show educational and informative, something middle school students could perform or watch, paired with lesson plans about environmental science or extinction.  The problem was, it didn't feel like her play.  She lost her passion for the story and the storytelling.

"Well," I told her, "That's your answer right there.  You have to write the play that you want to write, tell it your way.  Forget about the audience.  The right audience will present itself.  Your job is to tell the story."

She nodded, feeling encouraged and excited to keep writing.

TELL YOUR STORY

I walked away from the conversation with my own answer about how to begin my stint writing for this blog.  Ultimately, the advice that applies to a child applies just as much to the adult, when it comes to writing.  You have to tell the story you want to tell.  That's always going to be the first step.  Tell your story.

This isn't earth-shattering advice, but there's probably someone reading this now who needed to hear it.  So I'll say it again, once more with feeling, as we say in the theatre: WRITE YOUR STORY.  Don't worry about the audience, don't worry about what the publishing industry looks like, don't worry about what you think an agent wants to see.  

Say it with me now:  WRITE YOUR STORY.

Sing out, Louise:  WRITE YOUR STORY.

One more for the cheap seats:  WRITE YOUR STORY.

With that, I'll exit stage left.  And hope that as you read my next few posts, you keep this advice in your mind and heart, and apply it always, in every context, along every step of your writing journey.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. S. Puller is a playwright and author from the Windy City, Chicago. She has a master’s degree in elementary education and a bachelor’s degree in theatre from Northwestern University. She is an award-winning member of the American Alliance for Theatre and Education. When not writing, she can usually be found in the theatre. She is the author of two novels, CAPTAIN SUPERLATIVE and THE LOST THINGS CLUB. She also has several published plays, including: WOMEN WHO WEAVE (Playscripts, Inc.), PERSEUS AND MEDUSA - IT'S ALL GREEK TO ME! (Lazybee Scripts), and THE DEATH OF ROBIN HOOD (Stage Rights).

Website: pullerwrites.wordpress.com

Twitter: twitter.com/pullerwrites

Facebook: facebook.com/puller.writes