There is no greater moment of trepidation for a Playwright — or any author, really — when you’re dealing with a Director or an editor who replies — “I’ll know it when I see it” — in response to your asking for clarification on a change they want made.
If you can, run away from that answer and I mean turn around, gather
your things, and run away forever because hearing that sentence is the
death knell for your project: You are dealing with a power
provoker who has no clue what it wants.
The trick these
“Un-Knowers” use to try to get some understanding of what they clearly
do not comprehend is to have you rewrite the scene or section several
different times and many different ways and you present all those
versions to them for the picking: “They’ll Know It When They See It.”
You can see how that deceptive phrase sets up a never-win situation
because you are caught in an endless rewriting loop trying to guess what
they want when they have no idea what they really want.
That
lack of vision is common and that is why I always prefer Playwrights direct their
own plays and authors
publish their own books because command and control of the work is
retained. Any criticism leveled at the completed work is completely
owned by the original author and no excuses have to be made for
following someone else’s “revision” of your original intent — that may
have obliterated all your meaning and values.
When you are
stuck with “I’ll Know It When I See It” you are left to negotiate with
someone who has no clue about structure or character of dramatic
tension. The way these types keep you in line is via the
accusation-stated-as-fact: “Authors never really know what their work
is about.” By making you doubt your talent, they are then able to get
you to make their endless revisions because they “know better than
you.” Don’t fall for that falsity. Remember, you know your work far
better than anyone else and, in the end, you alone will be
held responsible for the final product with your name on the
project.
Don’t be fooled into getting hooked into the “I’ll Know
It…” revision trap. You know what you want. You write and revise as
best you can and then be done with it. Do not allow the endless
revision cycle of searching for meaning by those who obviously do not
understand you or your work.
That is such a terrible thing to hear from someone. It’s like trying to play with a Rubik’s cube in the dark and hoping for the best. Maybe if I change this and this? No? Okay, how about this?
That’s the game — but you usually don’t find out until all the contracts are signed and you’re in the middle of rehearsal or in the center of a re-edit. It’s too late. You’re trapped. There’s no way out. You are forced to please a power that has no clue about the work you want and is only interested in creating the work they demand so they can “leave their mark” on you and your work.
If you stand up for your work and refuse to make changes or if you only make a change or two — you are labeled “difficult” and such in order to shift The Blame of The Goat to you.
So… you’re going to be blamed for any failure anyway — if there’s a success, everyone will claim credit — so you might as well take the hard side and own every decision made and employed.
Only change what you believe in and then do so judiciously because one quick change just to please someone else’s aesthetic can adversely affect months of work on a piece of writing. Haste and deadlines have ruined more in-process projects than any other reason.