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Interview with Doug Holder

I have always admired the work of Kate Snodgrass. I have attended and reviewed many of the plays she put on when she was the artistic director of the Boston Playwright’s Theatre. As a teacher myself, I can appreciate the work she has done hatching the minds and careers of many young theatre professionals.

Kate Snodgrass is a Boston-based playwright and theatre director. She was the artistic director of the Boston Playwright’s Theatre until 2022. She was a professor of the practice of playwriting in the English Department of Boston University. Snodgrass won the 2012 Elliot Norton Award for excellence in theatre.

She co-founded the Boston Theatre Marathon. Snodgrass is a former Kennedy Center American College Theater Festival National Chair of the Playwriting Program, and a former vice president of StageSource, Inc.

This is only the tip of the iceberg in the accomplished career of Snodgrass.

Doug Holder: You have been described as a theatre hero. What do you feel were your ‘heroic’ efforts for the stage over your long career?

Kate Snodgrass: Yeah, the word “hero” is suspect, isn’t it? When I think of a hero, I think of someone being afraid for her own life but trying to save others anyway. That’s not me. I wasn’t afraid (except when I thought no one would show up at the theatre). I did a job because I had/have a passion for new works for the stage. I still want all of us dramatists to have equal opportunities, for all of us to be able to see our work on stage with wonderful actors/directors/designers and in front of an audience. It’s a goal designed for Sisyphus, and the one thing I can say for myself is that I haven’t given up. Yet.

I have taught playwriting for many years, but again, the heroism of that is suspect, too. Can any writing be taught? I don’t know, but I believe playwriting can be “learned” with experience and dedication. It’s the students themselves who make their decisions on whether or not to walk through the door that’s just been opened, so if they get better, it’s on them. I wish I could take the blame for all the good plays my students wrote, but … then I would have to take responsibility for all the bad ones. Nope, “hero” doesn’t fit here either. If anything, I’m a worker: Sisyphus again.

DH: Do you think opportunities for theatre production have increased or decreased in the Boston area, since you first cut your teeth in the biz?

KS: Yes, I think opportunities for new work have increased in Boston over the last 30 years. I came to writing for the theatre later than most (in my 40s). I was an actor first, and back then (1970s-80s) new plays were everywhere. It was thrilling – Shepard, Pinter, Shange, Fornes, Shaffer. But when I first moved to Boston in 1987, new plays were not so prevalent. Elliott Norton had retired, and NY shows were no longer coming to Boston to “try-out.” Plays were being written, but they weren’t getting produced.

This is why Bill Lattanzi (a wonderful playwright and friend) and I talked the local theatre companies into staging the Boston Theater Marathon (back in 1999). We hoped that it would encourage the producers to consider commissioning lesser-known playwrights. I’d like to think that the BTM has helped. And thanks to the unflagging resolve of workshops like Playwrights’ Platform and the like, Boston writers are still at it. The Huntington and ART are producing new works while the smaller fringe companies – thank goodness! – are relying on new work (Moonbox, Company One, Fresh Ink, Teatro Chelsea, Sleeping Weazel, to name only a few).

Now if we can just talk some of the mid-sized companies (SpeakEasy or The Lyric Stage, for example) into taking a chance! I know that they are trying to stay afloat financially during this difficult time after the Pandemic, so I give them a nominal pass for now, but…still. New work is the beating heart of the theatre, and the excitement of it sells tickets. Surprise!

DH: Can you tell us about the germ of the idea for the 10-minute play marathon you developed?

KS: Bill and I wanted to connect living playwrights with living companies, period. We thought, if an artistic director actually KNEW a playwright and had success (even with a 10-minute play) with that writer, they would be encouraged to produce a longer work. Production is where playwrights learn their craft. And it is not a solitary journey; it’s filled with other artists learning their crafts, too. Designers, directors, actors, and writers need to be produced in front of an audience! Bottom line. Readings can only go so far until you hit a wall of confusion. Plus, when we approached the producers at a StageSource (the long-time organization of New England producers and theatre artists) meeting, to their credit all of them said “Sure!” I suspect they thought it would not go on for long, but here we are in the 26th year of the BTM and counting. Considering that it’s a charity event (no one gets paid), and no one theatre benefits from the proceeds, the community itself benefits and so does the audience.

DH: There is art and craft in writing a play. How does a playwright bring out the art in his or her work? Does good craft bring good art?

KS: Wow. What a question! I’ll try, but … Yes, there is an art and craft to writing a play. The craft, I suspect, is gleaned by the playwright over time and experience in how an audience perceives the story itself and the way that particular story is told. These are two different things, and they are symbiotic. The three-dimensional space of the theatre is different than, for example, the way we perceive a film or a novel. This is why production is so vitally important to a playwright. What will the audience feel when they’re sitting across from me? How far can I go, and when?

As for bringing out the “art”? Personally, I don’t think about this when I begin to write; I write because I have a singular point of view or because I want to discover how I truly feel about a certain subject (or person or thing or … you name it). “Art” is for the audience to decide. But craft is different. Craft CAN be learned and must be exercised, so we must keep writing to learn the best way to convey our messages. All this has to do with our choices of characterization, of plotting, of theme, etc. Learning how to tell a story using your own “voice” seems daunting, but it’s not difficult. If we stay true to the truth of our vision, “voice” comes naturally.

Finally, good craft doesn’t necessarily bring good art in my opinion. Just look at your television. There are plenty of well-crafted stories out there. But are they art? Does that make them as complex and deeply moving (see tragedy/comedy) as, say, the statue of David? As the Mona Lisa? As Hamlet? As … Woyzeck? Only time will tell us about “art.” My money is on “craft.”

DH: One of your well-known plays, Haiku, deals with a young autistic woman, who in moments of lucidity is able to recite beautiful haikus that she wrote. I think in some ways that happens with all writing and art. I know when I write a poem there is a kind of haze and confusion at first, and then a burst of clear, creativity comes through – this goes back and forth in the process.

KS: Yes, the writing experience is just that! Confusion, questioning, and then if we’re lucky, if we keep at it…we lose ourselves for moments at a time when everything is effortless and “right.” We find the truth as only we know it.

DH: What do you think you accomplished as the artistic director of the Boston Playwrights’ Theatre?

KS: This is a difficult question to answer. I suppose my accomplishments will show themselves over time. I’m proud of the work I did, of the students that I helped (or hindered), of the community connections that we made, of the nationally-recognized playwriting program which I oversaw. You can view our students’ works all over the country – in theatres and on the screens – and I’m proud to have been associated with the difference those writers are making. I hope that the work at BPT will continue in my stead over time and that BPT will be able to help even more writers find their place in the world.

DH: Now that you are in retirement, what does the future hold?

KS: Another difficult question! I’m always asking myself “How can I help?” whether it’s about the theatre or the environment or some lost cause (democracy, I fear). Right now, I’m still in the shallows but not yet swimming. For the theatre, I might write another play; time will tell. For myself, I’m taking a French class and just finished my second semester in French (whew!). I hope to travel. I hope to read. I hope to play the piano. I hope to paint. Now that I don’t have to sign any academic applications, I’m free! It’s somewhat daunting, but also, you know … exciting. I’m taking suggestions.