Have you ever felt attacked by someone who was responding to your work? Or felt like they were simply wanting you to “fix” your work by doing it the way that they would do it?
If so, step four is for you.
(If you’ve missed it, make sure you check out steps one, two, and three of the dramaturgy feedback process before you keep reading!)
The idea of a Neutral Question comes from Liz Lerman (who we talked about in step one). Because, yeah. While observations and warm fuzzies can be fairly easy to do, once you ask people to help you start figuring out the things that aren’t yet working, it can get a little dicey. They can get opinionated. You can get defensive. Ultimately, the whole thing can be super unhelpful.
Neutral questions are what can save the day. Because while it’s wonderful to hear about what is working, any good artist knows that there is always something to improve. And one of the best ways to see what needs to be improved is to get feedback from someone else.
Why? Because when we are creating things, it is super easy to have blinders on. It’s also super easy to make connections in your head that simply aren’t there on paper or on the stage. I mean, haven’t we all turned in a paper at some point thinking it was perfect, only to have your teacher point out a glaring typo on the first page? You didn’t see it because your mind fixed it for you.
The same happens when writing or directing a play. You know the whole background for a character and why you made certain decisions about the story. But while it can be perfectly clear to you, it’s not always clear to other people. Which means it’s super helpful for someone to let you know what might be missing, or confusing, or even just a little too much.
So what is a neutral question? A neutral question is an open-ended, non-judgmental question. That means that instead of telling someone they did something wrong, or you didn’t like something, or they were really stupid for making this choice, you’re simply going to ask them questions that help reveal why certain choices were made – and what other choices might be better.
Sound complicated? Liz Lerman has a great comic in her Critical Response book. In it there are two people eating a piece of cake. One of them has a big frown on her face, is brandishing the cake on the end of her fork like a sword, and asks “Why is this cake so dry?!?”
Now, if you know anything about baking, telling someone their cake is dry is not a compliment. In fact, it could be seen as an insult. If you were the baker, how would you feel? The conversation is already starting in a negative, judgmental place. And you’re probably going to feel pretty bad. And defensive. And you won’t want to talk to that person.
The other person, on the other hand, is standing with an empty plate and has the simple question, “What texture were you going for with this cake?”
That is a neutral question.
He’s not judging.
He’s not saying it should have been different.
He is, in fact, allowing the baker the opportunity to say, “I wanted to make the driest cake known to man.”
To which he could respond, “Excellent. Mission accomplished.”
Did he enjoy it? Perhaps not. Is it how he would have done it? Maybe not. BUT THAT DOESN’T MATTER.
Why? Because it’s not his cake.
However, there is also the chance that the baker would have said, “I wanted a really moist cake.”
To which the man could respond, “OK. Well, personally I found it to be on the dry side. Let’s take a look at the recipe. Oh, you used 20 cups of flour. Maybe that contributed to a drier texture?”
And the baker could then decide whether she agreed with him or not.
Because, ultimately, that is what is important. The baker – or, in our case, the writer or the director – is in control. As the dramaturg, you are asking questions to help them understand the consequences of their actions. You may or may not agree with their choices (i.e. the cake may be too dry for your taste), but ultimately, it doesn’t matter. If that is what the writer or director wants, and you can agree that they are achieving that goal, then that’s all there is to it.
Neutral questions keep the power of the story in the hands of the writer or the director. Which is exactly where it’s supposed to be. However, as the dramaturg, neutral questions allow you to open up amazing conversations about what is happening in the story or with different characters and, hopefully through those conversations, help the writer or director make their work even better.
Neutral question tips: When you’re starting out, it’s usually wise to stay away from “why” questions. Why did you do this or why did you do that? They can come off judgemental and non-neutral. But the other “journalist” questions – how, what, where, who – can be great starting points. “Who do you see as the protagonist of the story?” “How do you want the audience to feel at the end of the play?” “What is your intent with adding that twist in scene 5?” And so on…
Want to try it out? Try reading a play or watching a movie and writing down all the questions you have. These could be things you didn’t understand or simply what you would like to learn more about. Don’t forget to mark page numbers or time stamps. Then, take a look and see if you could turn two or three of them into a neutral question. If you had a chance to meet that playwright or screenwriter or director, what would be the questions you would ask?
Want to share what you find? We’d love to hear it! Submit your thoughts here (make sure you include the title). Who knows, we just might include it in an upcoming article or video.