What Playwrights Can Learn from Strategic Planning

Last month I spent a day helping REALTORS® think about the future of their profession. The next week I was teaching playwrights how to build stronger stories. Somewhere between those two experiences, I realized they were asking many of the same questions.  

Sometimes, people are surprised to learn that I divide my professional life between two seemingly different worlds. One day, I might be facilitating a strategic planning retreat for a nonprofit or professional association. The next, I might be teaching playwriting, working on a script, or discussing dramatic structure with a group of writers.

At first glance, these pursuits seem unrelated.

One involves missions, goals, and organizational priorities. The other involves characters, dialogue, and stories.

Yet the more strategic planning I do, the more I find myself bringing lessons from these strategic plans back into my writing classrooms.

One of the first questions in any strategic planning process is deceptively simple: What are we trying to accomplish?

Organizations can spend hours discussing programs, budgets, staffing, and operations, but eventually they must answer that fundamental question. Without a clear sense of purpose, every decision becomes more difficult.

Writers face a similar challenge.

When I hear an idea for a script, one of the first things I look for is purpose. What is this play trying to do? Why does it need to exist? What question is it exploring? Just as organizations can lose themselves in activities that no longer support their mission, writers can lose themselves in scenes, characters, and dialogue that don’t serve the story they are trying to tell.

Strategic planning reminds me that clarity of purpose is not a luxury. It is a necessity.

Another lesson involves conflict.

In strategic planning sessions, people often arrive with competing priorities and perspectives. A board member may see the future differently than a staff member. Longtime members may have different concerns than newcomers.

Those differences can create tension.  But tension is not necessarily a problem. In fact, it is often where the most important conversations occur.

The same principle applies to dramatic writing.

Many beginning playwrights view conflict as something that happens between people. Experienced writers understand that conflict emerges when competing values, needs, and visions collide. The richer the conflict, the richer the story.

A third lesson involves listening.

The strongest strategic plans rarely emerge from a single brilliant leader. They emerge from conversations. They take shape as diverse voices contribute their perspectives, experiences, and hopes for the future.

Playwriting works much the same way.

Although writing can feel solitary, stories grow stronger when playwrights listen—to actors, directors, audience members, fellow writers, and the communities they hope to represent.

Good strategic planners listen before they decide. Good playwrights do too.

A recent example comes from my work with the Southern Indiana Association of REALTORS®. Led by CEO Kim Seibert and Board Chair Ryan Craig, the organization recently completed a draft strategic plan and is gathering stakeholder feedback before integrating those perspectives into the final document. Watching that process unfold has reminded me how powerful it can be when people are invited to help shape a shared vision.

Writers can benefit from the same mindset.  We often imagine ourselves as solitary creators, but the strongest plays emerge through collaboration, revision, and conversation.

Finally, strategic planning has deepened my appreciation for the importance of action.  An organization can spend months developing a brilliant plan. Yet if nobody changes their behavior, the plan remains little more than words on paper.

Playwrights face a similar reality.

A great idea is not a play. An outline is not a play. Even a completed script is not fully a play.

A play comes alive when actors embody it, directors interpret it, designers imagine it, and audiences experience it.

In both strategic planning and dramatic writing, the goal is not simply to create a document.

The goal is to create a future that did not exist before.

And that may be the most important lesson strategic planning has taught me about storytelling.