Budget Basics

Recently I’ve been writing a budget for a new show I want to produce. Perhaps fabricating would be a better word when it comes to budgeting. Since a budget is basically a guess. At least in the beginning. Both when beginning the budget itself and when starting out as a producer. The former because you haven’t really got to grips with the project yet, the latter because you wouldn’t know what it would cost even if you had. I don’t find it easy, but then again nor do all professionals.

So experience isn’t everything. And it certainly doesn’t guarantee success. Even the most experienced producers can’t predict everything, especially the likelihood of an audience actually turning up. The early closure of Spring Awakening this summer after only ten weeks in the West End is just one example of many. And that happened despite solid reviews. They just didn’t sell enough tickets. And that’s something no one can predict, no matter how much experience they have.

All of which is rather heartening for a young producer who doesn’t have that experience. And looking over my completed budget, it feels justified. This might be the show. And knowing that you’ve got something good lined up is exactly what producers need to sleep well.

But then again, surely it can’t be that easy. Even young producers don’t need much experience to tell them that. On a second glance, there were a few small problems with the show I’d budgeted. Like the fact that I’d added expenditure to income rather than subtracting them. Definitely too early to celebrate. But perhaps that’s the most important lesson to learn early on: don’t count theatrical chickens, even if it does help you sleep.

Beginnings

This blog has a very simple purpose: to track the successes and, inevitably, failures on my way to becoming a theatre producer.

I imagine writing it shouldn’t be too difficult; doing it on the other hand, might be.

These suspicions were confirmed recently while trying to make contact with a small theatre where I thought I might put something on. While casually talking to the manager (it’s of course essential to keep all details confidential) I mentioned that I was interested in producing shows professionally. A concerned look spread across her face. I’m still not sure whether she was concerned for the reputation of her theatre or my sanity. Either way, it wasn’t a good start.

I steered the conversation toward what level of experience she thought was required of potential producers at her venue. I’m not sure what I hoped for, but it was probably along the lines of “Well, almost exactly the level you have. Do you want to come and produce here?” Having had it rather easy at university, with the chance of producing at a major regional theatre and the internationally renowned Rustaveli Theatre (it is renowned, it says so on Wikipedia), I think I assumed that such fringe venues are the way to start out in London.

It quickly became apparent that this is not the case. My question was parried with the predictable response of “experience, and lots of it”. Yet its implication was clear. I would need a lot more experience before I should even think about applying to her theatre.

Point taken. Vaulting ambition dully brought back to earth. I’m going to have to start much smaller and work slowly upwards before getting to that stage. And given the size of that particular stage, I’m currently looking for places smaller than 4m².

So if anyone wants me to produce a play in their kitchen, let me know.