Here’s something you don’t hear from most writers: I absolutely hated writing as a kid. It always felt like a punishment. And when you grew up starving for attention and getting into all the trouble possible to try and get it as I did, writing usually was a punishment.
Most school days involved me writing out sentences 50-100 times (a la Bart Simpson and the chalkboard), like “I will not throw and stick multiple pencils into the ceiling during Geometry class.” If not sentences, then I was forced to write a full-page essay on why I was sorry. The list is endless. So, anytime my basic run-of-the-mill writing assignment or paper was due for class, my forehead promptly fell to the desk. Hard.
Needless to say, I was a bit of a rambunctious kid and teenager. I was constantly looking for approval, ways to entertain, and anything I could do to make people laugh. The only things that seemed to keep me out of trouble (and sitting still) were movies and TV. Once home from school, Steven Spielberg became my babysitter, Robert Zemeckis made sure I stayed out of trouble, and an endless number of stand-up comedians and sketch comedy groups were my friends. I didn’t need any more than that
I was more than happy to dive into these stories, tales, and bits of humor with full abandon and let my imagination run wild. Little did I realize that the countless hours in front of my television had ingrained various styles of storytelling in me without my even knowing it, leading me to dream up my own stories and characters. Lord knows I didn’t write any of them down. Not yet, anyway.
A pivotal point in my life was when I did as most younger siblings do, and I copied my brother by becoming an actor. I didn’t even know if I’d be any good, but it sounded fun. “You mean I get to be the center of attention and get graded for it?!” And I did. And I liked it. So much, in fact, I decided to take acting seriously. Very seriously. Move-to-New York-to-go-to-one-of-the-top-acting-conservatories-in-the-country-and-pay-out-of-my-own-pocket-while-working-dead-end-jobs kind of seriously
That acting program made me pull myself apart and put myself back together again, and holy shit did it kick my ass. And yet, for some odd reason at the very end of those two whirlwind years when I was at my most exhausted and praying for it to be over, I saw a posting on the school’s website: a playwriting class for actors. I don’t know what it was, but something told me my creative journey was just beginning. Cue the montage.
Random fact about me: If there’s something I don’t want to do (like most of the day jobs I’ve ever had), then something built into who I am doesn’t allow me to give more than 75%.
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It wasn’t until I discovered my love for writing that I felt myself give 100% for the very first time. Even with acting, I now see that I wanted to love it, but I don’t know if I ever really did. But with writing, I immediately knew it was what I needed to do. I can say with 100% certainty that if I was stranded on a deserted island with no hope of rescue, I would still write every single day. I might be scribbles on coconut leaves, but I’d still do it.
When I first started writing, it came easily. From the years of watching movies and TV combined with the tools I learned as an actor to create characters and stories, it just poured out of me. And everyone who read those first few primitive pieces seemed to really enjoy them. But the craziest part was that I was having fun. And I felt a catharsis writing into characters and plays what I was feeling or going through, and it felt good to put that out in the world. Poetic and cheesy, sure, but it’s true.
Eventually, after my shift to full-time playwright, I fell into a stereotypical writing trap: I wrote what I thought would entertain people. I wrote a two-character play that was really “fun” and “funny,” but there wasn’t any reason why I was writing it. It was a crazy scenario with a bunch of jokes and… well, that was about it. Nothing from my heart and nothing at stake. I had a sleek-looking car with no real engine, yet I was determined to push it to 100 mph.
The truth is that I was scared. Scared to be judged, to say too much, to let that boy who wanted attention drop the act and give over to his emotions and be vulnerable. Over time (and with lots of therapy), I realized that the two characters in my play were more than just mouthpieces for silly jokes and quips. They were metaphors. One represented my artistic and creative side, and the other was my hurt and need for love.
Once I realized that, the ending that ever alluded to me was found with both characters coming together because that’s exactly what I, as the writer, needed. To bring those two sides of myself together, no matter how crazy it may have seemed for me or the characters. And that decision somehow permitted me to write what I needed to from then on.
Years later, I had built a solid body of work and began submitting my plays anywhere I could. I found ScreenCraft’s Stage Play Competition and promptly dug up the coolest, darkest, and wildest play that I thought was perfect for it. They were gonna love it. And they did. It was a finalist!
I was so excited and quickly utilized all of the bonuses and benefits that being a finalist entailed. Truthfully, I was also kinda bummed. I really thought that play was gonna do it and win the whole damn thing. I mean, that play was exactly what I thought people would want! Sure, it had a deep reason why I wrote it, and it was personal to me, but it was also just super fun! If this didn’t win, then I didn’t think any of my stuff would.
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Two years later, I decided to submit again. But what was I going to submit? I already gave them the best thing I had. I mean, I could submit my family drama that has all my childhood trauma, unresolved issues with my mother, and all the unspoken things I’ve never said to other family members all dumped into one play. But who wants to read that?! Well… they did. It won.
First of all, how on earth did my hyper-specific family drama win over my other cooler play? It didn’t seem logical! Well, that’s because it wasn’t. Turns out, people seemed to feel what I was doing. It wasn’t just the idea or the premise people connected with, but the feeling I was drawing up that people from all walks of life seemed to connect with, no matter how specific the play was to me.
I had also never won anything like this before in my life, so I had no idea what to expect or what this might bring. I’m happy to say that a few months and a handful of industry meetings later, I met and signed with the agency and management companies I had been scouting for years. WOO! Dance break.
And that brings us to now, a handful of months after my win and getting fully repped. Spoiler alert for anyone who wants reps: it doesn’t change your life. Yeah, I know, sorry. The fact is, all the work is still and will always be in your hands (and pen).
Don’t get me wrong, my reps have been incredible, and they work incredibly hard for me, but it’s always going to be up to you to create the goods and continue building your career. They’re there to help. They’ve also been very transparent with me: That the industry right now is a complete cluster muck. Still healing from the pandemic, multiple strikes, and now the current and massive shift in audience interests. So where does that leave me? Well, in my NYC apartment that I can barely afford, writing stories that I want and need to tell, and game-planning with my reps on the best steps forward for me, my work, and my career.
I don’t know what the future will bring. Maybe I’ll get staffed on one of my favorite TV shows (The Bear, Severance, Hacks). Maybe one of my six plays will get a production in NY and/or London. Maybe my pilot will get picked up. Or maybe one of my features will get green-lit. Who knows! (Don’t worry, my writing is better than my not-so-subtle resume drop.)
Either way, I’m just going to keep pushing forward and continue writing the stories that I need to write for me. Because the truth is…I just feel lucky to be here. In this big city, surrounded by other artists, living a life where I get to do the thing I love every single day. Because I’ll tell you what, I had no idea what I thought my life would entail, but it sure as shit didn’t involve writing. Helluva plot twist if you ask me. And I couldn’t be happier. Roll credits.
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Matthew McLachlan is a Scottish-American playwright born in Scotland, raised in Florida, and currently survives in New York City. He is a Dramatist Guild Member, Grand Prize Winner of the 2024 ScreenCraft Stage Play Competition, Finalist of the 2022 ScreenCraft Stage Play Competition, and a Samuel French OOB Festival Finalist. His plays have been presented by Abingdon Theatre Company, Labyrinth Theater Company, The Chain Theatre, Nylon Fusion, The NOW Collective, The Farm Theater, The PIT, Thespis Theater Festival, and performed across the country. Other credits include: Nominated for Best Writer of a Web-Series (ADULTish), The Roast of Michael Musto (Head-Writer), & his published collection of works A Collection of One-Acts & Other Things You May or May Not Enjoy and full-length play Orion are available now at The Drama Bookshop and on Amazon.
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