Now hear this: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Every time we put out a call for submissions we learn a little more about how to go about the process.

For instance, I quickly learned to specify ‘3 submissions max’ after someone sent me a dozen of their plays in one email!

I also now mention at least twice that it is for audio drama after someone sent me a 10-page script which at about the halfway mark began to centre around a pair of red shoes that nobody spoke about. Not a good fit for audio-only theatre.

And we always specify a maximum amount of pages after someone sent their full-length 100-page play and I took one look and emailed them back saying ‘we have a page limit, sorry, my bad’.

I also always make sure to be clear that this is a not-for-profit deal. We don’t earn any money out of this and we can’t pay voice actors or writers. They get a link to share and listen and brag their hearts out over but no cash changes hands…sorry!

But there is always something that comes up that you can’t prepare for and as with any interaction with other human beings, it is fraught with danger, offense, hilarity, and kindness.

Some of the plays we get sent are not within the guidelines we set and that’s frustrating. It makes me grumpy before I even read the play and that’s not a good way to start a submission of anything to anyone.

Some of the plays are an immediate ‘yes’ and I email the writer and we sort out anything that might need tweaking or changing and it’s all good to go.

Some plays are full of spelling and grammar mistakes. There will be a Sudden Use of capitals or the spacing becomes weird…

These things are easy to fix and check and also annoy the living daylights out of me!

Some plays are just a ‘no’. It might not be because I don’t like them but more because of what their subject matter is. We try to not be all happy clappy ain’t-life-grand all the time but also we don’t want to record anything too triggering or downright sad.

And a no is a no. I always go out of my way to write the nicest, kindest rejection I can because I have been on the receiving end of more than my fair share and I know how even the nice ones sting. I avoid giving too many notes, even if asked, unless it’s about things like spelling or punctuation. My idea of a ‘no’ might be someone else’s idea of a ‘yes please’ so don’t go changing just to try and please me…as the song goes.

One writer who I said ‘no’ to replied with something along the lines of ‘I reject your rejection and am giving you another chance to say yes because I think you’re wrong’

Oh boy did that get my back up! It felt rude and disrespectful in the extreme. I replied that unfortunately, I wasn’t going to change my mind, and unless the writer knew the person very well IRL they maybe shouldn’t reply like that as it came across as arrogant and rude. Never heard back from them – no loss as far as I was concerned. After messaging other writer pals I found out this is a new way that some writers have decided to deal with rejection. I think it sucks, but maybe that’s just me. I think a simple reply of ‘thanks for your time, hope to work with you in the future’ would go down a lot better.

And some plays suck. They just do. No judgment here – just saying.

I’ve written my share of stinkers and everyone likes different things.

It’s an emotional rollercoaster to wade through play after play and be impressed one moment and regret your life choices the next.

And out of 3 submissions sometimes writers send 2 stinkers and a yes, or it’s 2 yes and 1 stinker…you just never know.

It has given me an insight into the whole submission process and a greater sympathy for those who are on the receiving end of anything I submit.

It has also opened up new avenues of plays and playwrights and made me some lovely friends and colleagues who I always look forward to working with. And once in a while I get a writer who tells me this will be the first time a play of theirs is performed and they can’t wait…that makes it all worth it.

Like I said, it’s a rollercoaster and one I’m glad I don’t have to ride too often.

Published by Ali Gallo

I am a writer of short books and plays - originally from Scotland, I now live in Seoul, South Korea, and am easily distracted by shiny objects and the promise of chocolate.

Leave a comment

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started