Is Your Show Produceable? The First Questions Every Theatre Producer Should Ask

So, you’ve decided to make a show. Incredible choice. I’m biased, of course, since making theatre is how I choose to spend a huge chunk of my time.

For the sake of this post, let’s say you either have a script you love, a writer friend already in the mix, or a game plan for devising your show throughout the rehearsal process. And if not, there are plenty of companies you can license your next show from. That’s a solid start! Your script or story is the foundation everything else is built on.

But hang on one sec…

Before you spend a dollar, book a venue, or convince your friends to jump on board, you’ve got to make sure your show idea is actually produceable. In your head, the show is already a Schmony Award Winner, packed with stunning design and incredible performances. Every beat lands perfectly: the jokes pop, the emotions hit, and you get full body chills imagining the audience rising to their feet for a standing ovation. Believe me, I know! I have many ten million dollar productions living rent free in my dome.

Producing means being the translator between the creative dreams and the logistical reality of bringing a show to life. It’s a great start that you cried, laughed, or started fantasy-casting while reading the script, but once you’re serious about taking the next steps, you’ve got to pull that brilliant concept out of your brain and see if it’s got actual legs. Think of it like a stress test: a raw, no-BS dive into the bones of your project.

You don’t need every detail locked down before you do this, and honestly you shouldn’t. Theatre is a team sport, and half the fun is discovering things with your collaborators. What you’re looking for is an honest, gut-level sense of whether this show is worth your time and energy given the logistics it will take to make it real. Since you’re the one driving this thing forward, you need to be sure you can actually commit to championing its existence.

At the very start of any theatre project, ask yourself:

What are you making?

This might sound obvious, but you’d be shocked how many people skip this question entirely, jumping five steps ahead to booking venues, designing posters, or launching a Kickstarter before they can even describe the show. Start simple by defining the format, genre, cast size, and runtime. Write a short summary, name the themes you’re playing with, and think about what kind of audience might actually care.

Ask yourself: What type of experience are you trying to create? Is it comedic or dramatic? Intimate or big? What do you want people to walk away feeling? What parts of your idea feel flexible, and what’s non-negotiable?

If you can’t explain the show simply, you won’t be able to sell it when the time comes… not to collaborators, not to venues, and definitely not to an audience.

Why do you need to make it?

Why now and why you? If you can’t articulate why this story matters to you and why you’re the person to get the job done, you’ll stall the second things get hard. The reason might be deeply personal, or it might be an inside joke, or simply that this is a show you can’t not make. Your mission doesn’t have to be world-changing. But it has to matter to you first… and eventually to the audience you’re hoping to reach.

Think about: What’s at stake for you if you don’t make it? What conversation are you hoping to join or start? What unique lens are you bringing to the work? Why this show, in this moment of your life?

Then define what success means to you in clear terms: your creative goals, your financial goals, and the amount of effort you’re willing to put in. This is the what behind your why, and that clarity becomes your compass when real-world obstacles start rearing their heads.

Who are you making it with?

You can’t do this alone. Well, maybe you can. But it’ll blow! The people you create with are just as important as the work you create. Choose collaborators who give a damn, not only about the show but about how you’re making it. Think about what roles you actually need. On a small production, people can wear more hats. On a larger production, you need more people doing more jobs. Consider what kind of communication and working style will help you stay sane. You want people who share your values, who you trust to be in the room with you, and who help build the kind of process you actually want to be part of.

Notice the green flags and the red ones. A friend who’s hilarious over drinks isn’t necessarily the right director for your new play. Shared history isn’t always a shortcut for clarity. In fact, it usually demands more of it, because you’re crossing the wires of your personal and professional lives at the same time.

And if you don’t have anyone on the team yet, that is totally fine. Naming your gaps is the first step toward filling them.

What’s standing in your way?

Time, money, people. When making independent theatre (or almost anything), you’ll never have enough of all three at once. Be honest about what you do have and what your biggest obstacles might be. Rough out a budget range. Estimate your weekly hours. Take stock of the collaborators you can realistically bring on. Note any “big ticket” needs your show might have: a live band, a huge playing space, some giant puppets, etc.

And look internally too: Are you someone who overcommits? Do you struggle with delegation? Do you actually have the bandwidth to take this on right now? Some obstacles are dealbreakers and some are just things you’ll have to plan around.

A lot of creative people avoid thinking about money, resources, and constraints as if they will somehow make the art less pure, but ignoring your limits will not make them disappear. Time, money, and people are the building blocks that will shape your process whether you acknowledge them or not, so you might as well face them head on. Naming your limits upfront helps you make a smarter, more focused version of your show and helps you avoid being blindsided later.

Now, decide if it’s worth doing.

Look back at your answers. If the story matters, the scope feels doable, and your gut says go, keep going. That’s a strong sign the show is produceable! If not...don’t. It might simply not be the right time for this particular show.

Don’t wait for perfect conditions; they’re not coming. But remember, producing is demanding even when everything is working in your favor. If this idea doesn’t have enough spark to get you off the couch and into action, it might be better to pause and return when you can give it the energy and clarity it deserves.

Producing is not magic. It’s logistics in the service of art. You organize people, time, and money so the story can actually land the way you want it to. Everything you just evaluated, from the story itself to the obstacles in your way, is meant to give you a clearer runway to do exactly that.

You will mess things up and that’s fine. When you’re making theatre, momentum beats perfection every time. And no matter how prepared you feel right now, if you stay honest about your limitations, curious about solving problems in creative ways, and committed to taking the next actionable step, the show will take shape. That’s how every production you love actually got made… one imperfect step at a time.

If you want a deeper dive into all the steps of making a show and the scaffolding to keep your brain on track, this post pulls ideas from the Show DNA and Development phase of the Make the Damn Show Toolkit. This phase includes guided prompts, checklists, and lessons on how to stress test your idea, build a budget, assemble your core team, and start shaping a marketing identity for your show. Want the full four-phase system that takes you from script to stage and beyond? Grab the toolkit and make your damn show.