Some Lessons Learned
And what to do about them in 2023
WE DID IT TEAM! WE MADE IT THROUGH ANOTHER YEAR!
I’m going to get right into it because TIME IS RUNNING OUT FOR THIS TO BE RELEVANT! Today I’ve prepared a charcuterie board of lessons I learned in 2022, and if/how I’d like to see them continue into 2023. Here’s hoping that at least something from this list strikes a chord with you!
2022 Lesson #1: Every single year is weird.
We can all agree that 2020 was the King of Weird Years, but ever since then I’ve been noticing that each successive year has been horrifying and weird in its own special way. 2021 was the year of “okay we’re back. wait no. wait yes. oh god no. okay for sure back now. yep.” And 2022 was the year of “wait we’re back, so where is everyone?" 2023 Hope/Dream: In 2023 I’d love for everyone in Theatre World to stop blaming the pandemic for everything (audiences are not coming back, there are no TDs anymore, etc), and instead accept that this is How Things Are. Instead of panicking, I hope we see ourselves, each other, and our colleagues start to get creative and take risks where we can not just to keep our industry alive—but also launch it into a new era, and a new definition of theatre-making.
2022 Lesson #2: There’s no such thing as “selling out”.
This one is more personal than universal, but you know what they say about that. I love writing. I love being a writer.
Here’s the thing: I especially love when I write something and share it. And I really love it when it’s well-reviewed. Even better if it makes a Best of 2022 list. What the Christmas Carol commission (and some freelancing that has turned into a residency for an audio app) taught me this year is that I…really like writing for hire. I love having a deadline. I love a brief/scope of work! There’s something very freeing about knowing that I’ll get paid once the work is finished.
Before this year, all the writing I did was for myself. And I know that that’s what you’re “supposed to do”, to keep the work “pure” and “authentic” or whatever, but honestly? Fuck that in 2023.
It’s a huge win to be able to make money by applying the skill I’ve been honing for y e a r s to someone else’s ends. I was still allowed and encouraged to bring my own voice to every single write-for-hire and commission I worked on this year. I was even more capable of taking risks because I signed a contract. Using whatever skills and talents you may possess in order to make a buck (or lots of bucks!) is not selling out. It’s making a living.
My hope/dream for 2023 (for me and for you, too) is that when these opportunities come my way, I can be even more enthusiastic and excited about them than I was this year as I discovered them. And I hope that in doing so, the writing that doesn’t have a brief, a deadline, or an overseer can be just mine: indulgent, fun, and not the thing that has to put food on my table.
2022 Lesson #3: You’re more qualified than you think.
This cropped up over and over and over again. This was the year when I rounded some invisible corner and discovered that applying for jobs is…fun???
I’m serious. It’s a blast. I only applied for things that I would reasonable-to-genuinely enjoy being hired for, and it was an exercise in imagining my own life. Could I have fun as a newsletter writer (for an actual publisher, not just this sweet lil’ project)? I think I’m a dramaturg, but does anyone else think so? Am I good at the things I say I am?
I must have applied for two dozen jobs this year, and I ended up interviewing for about ten of them, and was offered…4 of them? Something like that? That’s 1-in-6, baby! Those are pretty good numbers!
And for all the jobs I didn’t get interviewed for, didn’t get offered: I still learned a lot about applying and interviewing. I learned a lot about the Philadelphia theater scene and community (where I applied for most of these jobs). I put my name (and sometimes my face) in front of people. And best of all: I learned that I’m way more qualified than I thought.
So my hope/dream for 2023 is that I continue to chip away at our ol’ friend Imposter Syndrome. I’m all set with jobs at the moment, but this past year has made me really curious to plumb more of the untapped depths of myself. What am I capable of that I previously thought was at least 5 or 10 years out of my grasp? And I hope that you fold this practice of Applying For Jobs Just To See What Happens into your creative life. Especially all you ladies and queers out there.
2022 Lesson #4: With great power comes great responsibility.
Yeah yeah yeah, it’s trite. But it’s true! This past year I’ve stepped into more than a few roles that have considerably more power than I’ve ever had before. I was a teacher, an adaptor, a dramaturg, a literary manager, a panelist, an organizer, blah blah blah.
I’m new to not being the intern or the apprentice, and it’s taken a lot of getting used to. It’s so new that I don’t have a lot to reflect on except that I notice it: I have some sway.
In 2023, I want to make sure that I use this sway for good. In my personal and professional relationships of course, but more importantly in the decisions and behaviors that will impact the long-term of this industry. I want to find, hone, and get even more comfortable with speaking up when the old bad habits and biases of our world rear their heads. I want to practice going an extra mile or two for the people I work with. I want to invest in the people who I know need a champion. Just one! Because another thing I learned this year is that having even one person looking out for you can change everything.
And finally, a non-exhaustive list of plays I want to read in 2023:
Two-spirit plays
really good workplace plays
plays about generational gaps but not necessarily generational trauma (all set on generational trauma for the moment, thanks!)
true crime plays (i’m not kidding about this, sorry)
plays about mixed-race Americans dealing with this fact of life
survival plays (I just read Small Game by Blair Braverman which was…fine. But it made me think that there aren’t any really good survival plays out there. This could go hand in hand with a true crime play.)
restaurant plays (think The Bear but on stage. Maybe something that intersects with an opioid crisis story?)
a play in which the internet literally stops working. (I don’t know why. I crave chaos.)
Alright that’s it, cherubs. Happy new year, whenever it happens for you!