Girls who kill but don't curse
People in my plays generally don’t get murdered. But in the play I just published, The New Margo, someone does.
The New Margo was developed over the course of a year, at readings in high schools and at the International Thespian Festival and at my writing group.
The final reading used one actress I’d never met. As I was talking to her after the reading, she asked about the origin of the play. I told her that I write largely for high schools.
“Oh,” she said. “Is that why they don’t curse?” I confess, my stomach clenched a bit.
Because of course the answer is yes.
The last posts’ discussion of censoring high school plays left out the main source of that censorship: the playwrights.
High school playwrights censor ourselves. We don’t do it because we’re prudes. We do it because we want our scripts to be produced.
This is all about money.
The economics of writing for the high school market differs from the economics of writing for the adult stage. The performance royalty for a high school one-act is about forty bucks, a chunk of which goes to the publisher. This means that writing high school plays is a volume business. The only way to make money is to get a lot of productions.
So what assures multiple productions? Lots of characters, cast flexibility, simple tech. And no controversy.
Your play should not rock the boat.
Alas, the secondary school stage is a ship easily rocked. Language creates waves. Sexuality creates tidal waves. (Gay sexuality actually vaporizes the boat.)
Violence creates not a ripple. Your characters can stab, shoot, poison or strangle each other and no one will object. Indeed, stage combat is part of most theatre curricula.
The same dynamic exists in young adult literature. The premise of The Hunger Games is jaw droppingly horrible, but Katniss Everdeen never drops the f-bomb while bow-and-arrowing one of her fellow contestants.
Why we object to sex and language but not to killing is part of a larger cultural conversation, one that’s been going on for decades.
But the point is that it makes those of us who write for high school theatre into wussies.
Our product is bland.
A play takes a long time to write. (Or at least, it should.) So there’s an enormous disincentive writing anything with an edge.
I’m not sure if we need a different business model, or just braver playwrights.
But if you decide you’d to like sprinkle swear words throughout your production of The New Margo (or for that matter) This is a Test, I would endorse such an endeavor, though—since I’m a wuss—I won’t show up at your disciplinary hearing.
And…
If you’re on Twitter, #Ifollowplaywrights is consistently entertaining and instructive.
Among the things #Ifollowplaywrights turned me on to recently, is 10000p the only cartoon I’m aware of about playwrights.




All Comments
— Eddie on December 7, 2012 at 1:19pm
1) Do you think you lose productions from teachers/administrators who can't see past the language?
2) How often do you say yes to the requests to cut language?
— Steve on December 9, 2012 at 1:12pm
I have zero tolerance for most zero tolerance.
Years ago we were in Coeur D'Alene, Idaho to celebrate my grandmother's hundredth birthday. I browsed the local paper and two articles caught my eye.
A high school gay couple had been elected prom king and king.
And: a production of The Laramie Project was being cancelled because it contained the word "faggot," which went awry of the zero-tolerance-for-slurs policy.
That's the moment when you want to say, hey, let's all step back and look at the bigger picture.
— Steve on January 3, 2013 at 3:33pm
I couldn't argue much with them; they were, after all, paying for their kids to be in the program. Rather than let my righteous indignation mess up my relationship with the parents, I chose to view it as one of those weird writing prompts with strange rules, and simply wrote the plays to their specifications. It took a little work, but the end result seemed to fit the bill.
— Sean Alan Morris on January 6, 2013 at 12:32pm
Good for you for choosing to see limits on your play as boundaries to help shape the play.
And Carolyn, I'm trying to remember the thing you changed. A sports bra perhaps?
Like Don, I'm pretty sure I've never said no to a request to cut or change something and I'm guessing that most of us writing for high schools regularly say yes to such requests.
I do remember a bunch of years back that Jon Rand told me he'd said no to a request to cut a gay reference in (possibly?) Check Please. Ironically, just last month I said yes to such a cut in my play Small Actors.
The clear lesson here is that Jon is straight and principled, whereas I am gay and craven.
— Steve on January 8, 2013 at 2:33pm
If I'm not mistaken, Check Please has been the most produced one-act in the country for the last forty years, so there must be some schools willing to overlook that scene. Though I generally loathe the idea that theatre (even educational theatre) should be educational theatre, I think one could argue that having a gay character appear in such a popular play normalizes gaydom in a way that's useful.
Ditto the controversial (really?) scene in Almost, Maine.
Curious how many productions you think quietly cut the scene without telling you.
— Steve on January 9, 2013 at 4:44pm
As for the number of schools that simply cut the scene without permission, the count is obviously nowhere near the preferable zero. My hope is that by the time Apple develops the technology to identify "Check Please" Scene 9 infringers, homophobia will exist almost exclusively in history books.
— Jonathan Rand on January 12, 2013 at 2:35pm
— Everett Robert on February 12, 2013 at 2:29pm
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