Jonathan Norton was the Dallas Theater Center’s resident playwright for six years, until April, when he stepped into the role of interim artistic director. With the company opening its season this month, we asked him how he approaches programming and what to expect from Dracula: A Comedy of Terrors.
There is a pub a block away from the Wyly Theatre called The Playwright. Can you confirm my suspicion that no actual playwright would hang out there? Are you kidding? I love The Playwright Irish Pub! I feel so at home there. The fish and chips are my go-to. I actually take meetings there.
If you had to write an entire play while hanging out in a Dallas bar, which one would you pick? This is a hard one. Because I really don’t go out to bars. I’ve been to Lakewood Landing a few times because Kitchen Dog Theater used to hold the One-Minute Play Festival after-parties there. But if I were to write a play about a bar, I’d want to write about a place that no longer exists called The Green Parrot. It was a very popular nightspot in South Dallas, next to the Forest Theater, back in the ’50s and ’60s. And my mama said she used to go there before she found the Lord.
What’s your writing process look like? I wake up super early and write. I have a ton of energy and clarity at that time. I’m not much good after 2 p.m. Also, I view my characters as real people in the sense that I don’t know much about them when I first start a project. I try to know as little as possible. I like to learn and discover along the way. This is also how I build trust with my characters. The longer I stay engaged, the more they are willing to tell me. Think about it. If you meet someone for the first time and they tell you their whole life story—nothing good will come of this—run as fast as you can in the opposite direction.
One of your most awarded plays is titled Mississippi Goddamn. Are you at all worried about burning in hell for that title? No. Nina Simone wrote it first, and she wrote it with good intentions, responding to the injustices of the time. And those injustices merited that language. Plus, as many times as I’ve sung along to her song—what’s the difference? This is not to say that I have any desire to burn in hell. I don’t.
How have DTC audiences changed since COVID, and what are you guys doing to attract them? In terms of programming, I recall a conversation with a colleague out in the regions. At his theater, they are thinking a lot about getting excited about what excites their audiences. And I think that offers a lot of opportunities to bring more folks into the fold, earn their trust and commitment, and then spark in them an organic curiosity and hunger for more challenging and provocative work. I dream of getting audiences to a place of saying, “This is so much fun! Now can you wreck my soul and make me question my purpose on earth?” And then we can say, “Yes! Yes! We can absolutely do that, and we’ve been waiting for you to ask!”
You get to program the 2025–2026 season. Given that you’re interim artistic director, any thought to picking the most avant-garde stuff out there, blowing back some gray hairs? I’m not really an avant-garde type person. I view my responsibility as interim as building a solid foundation for whoever comes after me. In terms of my season-planning interests, I want to expand on DTC’s strengths and identify more ways to strengthen our ties to the community. Also as interim, it’s more about planting seeds. You’re trying to think about the long game in a short-term role. When I think that way, it helps me to focus and de-stress.
Are you thinking about what the national mood might be like next year as you consider programming? I can’t stop thinking about what the national mood might be. I see our work as a public good and a community asset. So I keep thinking about how DTC can be of service through our programming. And after the election, what will folks need from us? A place to feel joy? To heal? Just to understand each other and our differences? How can DTC provide that?
This season starts with Dracula: A Comedy of Terrors. Will the blood splatter high enough to reach the balcony seats? I’m not telling. Come to the show and find out!
This story originally appeared in the October issue of D Magazine with the headline “His World’s a Stage.” Write to timr@dmagazine.com.
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