This week, I was at a play reading committee for a community theatre group. We were discussing twelve plays that we had all read over the last few weeks. The group is trying to determine the playbill for an upcoming season.

We come from different walks of life and have different tastes. It wasn’t easy to come to an agreement on what plays we should propose. Some compromises were made. Some egos were bruised.

At one point, one of the members of the group said that they didn’t want to read any more plays by old, white guys.

As an old, white guy who writes plays, I thought: Ouch.

But they’re right. There are too many plays written by old white guys.

We should be putting on more plays by women. And people of colour. And people from all spectrums of human experience, including sexuality and gender.

Does that mean I should stop writing plays? Is there still a place for me as an old, white guy?

Of course there is.

Art isn’t going to appeal to everyone. It’s unlikely that I’ll ever write a play that my friend wants to read. But my friend isn’t the audience who I write for.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

We all want everyone to love our plays. Our art. Our ideas.

But you can’t create something that pleases everyone.

If you try to create with an audience in mind, besides yourself, you should keep it small and specific.

My intended audience is usually Deb, my wife.

When I finish writing a play, she’s the first person who gets to read it. And if she isn’t the target audience, she’s still the first person I send it to.

There are so many stories out there. Some stories need to be told more than others. We need to hear from more people than just old, white guys.

We all have the drive to express ourselves in some way. Playwriting is one of my ways.

I don’t want to take space from voices that need to be heard.

But at the same time, I’m going to keep writing my plays and trying to build my audience. There’s room for everyone at the table.