Yu-Chia Wei is a Taiwanese playwright whose work has earned numerous accolades. Her two plays, A Fable for Now and Mama/Popstar, won the Taiwan Literature Award and Taipei Literature Awards, respectively. The former even received an English staged reading at PEN World Voices: International Play Festival 2018. This month, she is featured in the Playwright in Focus Festival, a staged reading event dedicated to showcasing the work of a mid-career Taiwanese playwright, organized by the Prologue Center for New Plays. Ahead of the festival, Prologue sat down with this talented writer to discuss her creative approach and life as a professional playwright in Taiwan.
Prologue: Where do you typically draw inspiration for your plays? And how do you know when you’re ready to start writing a new one?
Wei: I mainly draw inspiration from two sources: nonfiction books and social media. I’ve always been a heavy reader, and reading social science helps me explore and better understand the world. I’m also a devoted internet user—just as much a lurker as I am a reader. I follow online news and trends not for entertainment, but to observe society. As a playwright, I think it’s crucial to understand how society works. Without that grounding, my plays would be driven only by emotion and lack substance. So, even in my daily life, I’m constantly on the lookout for stimulation. When I find myself reading deeply into a single topic, or even feel the itch to write, that’s usually my cue to move from researching to actually writing.
Prologue: Your plays often feature socially disadvantaged characters, yet you approach them with humor rather than pity. This character development is part of what makes your work more than just social commentary. How do you bring your characters to life?
Wei: I think that has a lot to do with my background and outlook on life. Technically speaking, I come from a blue-collar, single-parent, rural family. My mom was so busy that she sometimes seemed like a sloppy mother, but my siblings and I always found ways to entertain ourselves. That ability to self-amuse is a real asset when writing plays. Since my work often touches on social issues, there’s a risk it could get too heavy. Humorous or self-mocking characters help create balance. While I believe certain issues deserve more public awareness, that doesn’t mean I want to write didactic plays in a condescending tone. I want my audience to think, but I also want to entertain them.
Prologue: Many of your plays feature a final scene or epilogue that introduces a new world. How do you typically structure your plays?
Wei: I always need to have a rough idea of the whole play before I begin writing, so I usually start with an outline. That gives me a more objective sense of how the audience will experience the play—when characters should take center stage, and when the ideas should. I’m not exactly a Shakespeare fan, but I have to admit, he was a master at structuring drama and creating rhythm by alternating between fast- and slow-paced scenes. I’ve learned a lot of techniques from him, and maybe that’s also why there’s often a comedic undertone in my work. In my plays, tears and laughter are always racing each other. After the premiere of A Fable for Now, an audience member told me they didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. That might be the highest compliment the play could receive.
Prologue: You’ve created successful works both as personal projects and through commissions. How do you strike a balance between the two?
Wei: I have some playwright friends around my age, and we’ve all come to recognize a somewhat unhealthy, but very practical, mindset that has developed in our mid-careers: we lose motivation to write when it doesn’t pay. But the truth is, professional playwrights write to make a living. Someone needs to pay for our labor. With personal projects, there’s always uncertainty about whether the effort will be rewarded. With commissions, there’s at least financial compensation. At this point in my career, I’m definitely less inclined to initiate personal projects than I used to be.
Yu-Chia Wei’s A Fable for Now. English staged reading at PEN World Voices: International Play Festival 2018. Photo by Lipmann Wong.
Prologue: What are the biggest challenges of working as a playwright in Taiwan? How do you collaborate with directors and actors?
Wei: Theatre is deeply collaborative, and I’m not the most diplomatic person, so managing relationships has always been tricky for me. The upside of working with artists is that they’re generous with ideas, but the downside is that sometimes they can be quite attached to their own. That can lead to bias or ego clashes. As the playwright, I’m often on the front line of a production, which means I can find myself challenged or even drawn into arguments when I propose new ideas that differ from those of the director or actors, especially in commissioned works. When a team reaches out to me for a revival, however, I’m much more relaxed. I’m happy to let the director stage their interpretation, and I don’t attend rehearsals unless there’s a run-through or dress rehearsal. I think rehearsal rooms should be creative spaces for the director and actors.
Prologue: Thank you for sharing your practical experience as a playwright.
Wei: I can give you another brutally honest example. A few years ago, I was looking to rent a place in Tamsui (a district in New Taipei City), but things weren’t going well. After a few viewings, the agent finally leveled with me: some landlords are hesitant to rent to someone like me—a freelancer in her forties without a “proper” job. She meant no harm, and I understood her point. Theatre is a field that remains unfamiliar to most people in Taiwan. No matter how meaningful I believe playwriting to be, it’s still a profession that demands a lot and pays very little. Emerging writers might manage to survive on a small income, but it becomes harder as they grow older and more experienced while still earning the same limited amount. So yes—financial pressure is a major issue for playwrights like me.
Prologue: Was that part of the reason you moved back home? How have your life and writing changed since relocating from Taipei to Taichung?
Wei: The biggest change is that I now live with my family. I’m not particularly close with them, but having them around helps me clear my mind. I’m an introvert, isolated and unsociable, so when I lived alone in Taipei, I could go an entire week without talking to anyone. That wasn’t something to be proud of. I found that having no social interaction actually dulled my thinking and reasoning. Since moving back to Taichung, I have small social exchanges every day, and that’s helped me avoid the occasional brain fog. Other than that, not much has changed. My life as a writer mostly revolves around reading and surfing the internet—two things I can do anywhere.
Prologue: Finally, for those who dream of becoming playwrights—despite the low income and many challenges—what advice would you offer?
Wei: I’d suggest developing an interest that has nothing to do with your professional life. Something like hiking or cooking. Cooking’s even better because it produces tangible results, which can be very rewarding. That said, I haven’t managed to cultivate a hobby myself, and one consequence is that I often struggle with anxiety. Even now, after winning awards and having my work produced, I still feel anxious when I write. I really think having a hobby would have helped with that.
(Kuan-Ting Lin is a Taiwan-based translator, dramaturg, and playwright. Currently, he serves as the literary manager at the Prologue Center for New Plays.)
Yu-Chia Wei’s Big Zoo at Tisch Drama Stage. Photo by Justin Chauncey.
This post was written by the author in their personal capacity.The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of The Theatre Times, their staff or collaborators.
This post was written by Kuan-Ting Lin.
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