If Your Story Happened to You, Keep that to Yourself

I am absolutely convinced, based on several experiences, that it is never a good idea to announce that a script you are working on is based on your own personal life or experience.  To make such an assertion achieves nothing, and can, on the other hand, get in the way. 

 

Years ago, in the first playwriting group I belonged to, a colleague made a comment that he couldn’t believe that a character in the scene being critiqued would do a particular act, whatever it was (I don’t remember the specifics).  The author of the scene, a young writer, protested saying, “of course he would; it happened to me!” as if that pronouncement would make the critic come to his senses.  Unfortunately, the young writer did not understand that, in writing, reality is no defense.  It’s irrelevant that the given action or moment was grounded in a real event.  The writer simply had not succeeded in recreating the event, or motivating the character, so that the theatrical version of the true moment was credible.  The writer needed to understand that the moment just wasn’t working, regardless of its basis in his life. 

 

Also years ago, while I was at T. Schreiber Studio, we were beginning rehearsal for the first of my plays to be produced, a play called Casino.  I had been jumped while in an Atlantic City casino by an irate casino patron who accused me of stealing thousands of dollars in chips from him.  A case of mistaken identity.  After I was cleared and returned home, my reaction was to turn this traumatic experience into a play.  When it was completed, I very freely let it be known around the studio that the play was based on this awful experience that happened to me (probably subconsciously seeking sympathetic outrage that something like that should befall such a nice guy like me). 

 

Anyway, on the first day of rehearsal we had the customary sit-around-a-table reading by the cast.  After the script reading was concluded, there was this spontaneous burst of enthusiasm and animated chatter among the actors.  I was thrilled.  In that moment of excitement, one of the actors commented that the character of Joe was a real jerk.  Almost instantly an embarrassed hush came over the table.  Like the toppling of dominoes, heads turned in my direction as each actor in turn recalled that the character of Joe was based on me.  I quickly assured the cast that I was not offended, and that they needed to feel free to say whatever they wanted and to do their work without inhibition.  The uncomfortable moment dissipated, but I had hard time shaking the suspicion that some of the actors were being careful around me. 

 

The bottom line is this: the surest way to protect oneself against candid and constructive, if stinging, criticism and feedback is to let it be known that the work is based on your life.  That will quickly discourage many from offering honest criticism and it will insulate you from feedback you might need to hear.