Are we losing the ‘community’ in our community theatres?



I can still remember the opening night of my very first show. As a 15 year old, you are a messy mix of wanting to be noticed and being horrified when you are. Oh, the ‘actoring’.

The joy was that I was surrounded by experience; people who helped me learn to perform and become brave enough to grow. The community in ‘community theatre’ was strong and, while I learned that there are good and not quite as good ways to approach a piece of theatre in the amateur world, I became aware that it was what participation in community theatre did for individuals that made it most appealing to me.

I love the ones who struggle with nerves, but do it anyway; who are brave; who step out of their comfort zones and into the cushioned and understanding arms of fellow performers in their local community theatre company.

Since I began the Idiot project, I’ve studied the challenges of many companies and developed ways to make things better for them. This has exposed me to many wonderful theatre communities who love what they do and support and respect the people who do it with them.

But there’s a disturbance in the force that is really starting to tick me off.

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you’ll know that I am passionate about encouraging and equipping community theatre to expect more and to be extraordinary. I see this approach in so many productions, performers, producers and companies and it thrills me to pieces.

But this drive to improve should never be at the expense of people. We should always respect the time and talents offered to our companies. We should never treat our volunteers like staff, we should keep our heads out of our asses and seek to include the diverse range of people who seek to participate in the arts.

It saddens me to see some community theatre companies be overcome by what can simply be described as a sense of embarrassment about who and what they are. They’ve leapt over the line of ‘community theatre doing the very best they are capable of’ and landed right smack in the middle of ‘we’re going to be better than anyone else’ – a very, VERY different attitude.

Working to create a piece of theatre that is the very best that your team is capable of, carries a beauty and value, not measurable at any box office. This attitude empowers individuals to reach further, respect everyone’s efforts, and encourage each other to create something far bigger than themselves.

Once you enter the realm of wanting to be better than everyone else, you do so by stepping over people to get there. Theatre companies make decisions that jeopardise their future. They insist on hiring theatres that are too big and expensive for their budget, everything becomes about ticket sales, and volunteers burnout at an alarming rate.

“But we have to sell tickets,” you cry!

Then let’s step sideways for just a moment.

I have recently come across companies making major decisions for their future based on false information. They have struggled to sell tickets and interpret this as a need to go bigger, change their culture, drastically alter their show choices in a way that does not reflect what their audience wants and build shows that force them to price themselves out of the community theatre market. These changes in and of themselves are not bad. It’s the reasons these decisions are being made that is challenging.

The statement, ‘we can’t sell tickets’ is false. It can be complex, but when it comes to community theatres run by volunteers without marketing skills, it’s false, and here’s why.

You are not marketing your shows! You think you are because you post a few things on social media, maybe spend money on print ads in your local newspaper and badger the cast to sell more tickets but, from experience, I can almost guarantee that YOU ARE NOT MARKETING AND THAT FEW PEOPLE KNOW THAT YOUR SHOW/COMPANY EXISTS.

The mistake people make is thinking that the world is no bigger than their own – “I think this way therefore everyone else does. I know the show is on, I’ve posted on facebook so everyone else knows what I know.”


Marketing 101 – Do not market to yourself! And, I’m sorry, but that is exactly what you are doing. Please, please, for the love of all the gaff tape you have used in your career, stop making decisions based on these assumptions.

Improve your marketing first. You haven’t even scratched the surface of ticket sales yet, I guarantee it. It doesn’t matter what the show is. I’ve sold thousands of seats to Gilbert and Sullivan, Rogers and Hammerstein through to contemporary theatre simply with good, basic and inexpensive marketing techniques. Learn the basics, do the basics consistently. Everything else is a bonus but not necessarily sustainable.

DISCLAIMER: I still can’t sell crap! End of conversation.

Stepping back to what’s really important!

Our theatre communities are all different and extremely valuable, making up a smorgasbord of creativity that provides training and companionship, a place for our creativity to thrive and even explore the potential of making it a profession. Size does NOT matter. Bigger is not better. It’s simply different. Whether your season is a series of plays, musicals or cabaret, or whether you perform in a 90 seat hall or a 500 seat theatre, know that you are family to thousands of creatives who need to feel accepted, challenged and seen.

I do not want to be part of a local theatre community that is embarrassed about their amateur status, who feel the need to be better than everyone else or want to be considered ‘professional’, and fail to cultivate a culture of belonging, joy and humility.

I want to be part of something great, but that greatness comes from all of us working together to do our best, not from a company driving their cast and volunteers to be a product, simply for the purpose of selling tickets and satisfying individual egos.

Actors and creatives who have worked with me could tell you that I love the people I work with, I will challenge them and expect them to challenge themselves, I will protect them and I will fight for their joy in what they are doing, but I will never waste their time telling them what they want to hear, only what I believe will make them better – for their sakes.

I love you, community theatre. You are joy, family and passion.

Don’t forget who you are and what you are worth.

It’s everything.



How your integrity influences your theatre life.

Integrity and An Idiot On Stage

What does integrity look like to you? Is it even a thing anymore, and how does it play out in our world of community theatre?

On the surface, integrity can mean simply being a person of your word but, move deeper and it can influence how you treat people and allow others to be treated.

Let’s take a quick survey, and be brutally honest with yourself. No one is watching, so tell me which one of these statements applies to your current way of thinking –

  1. Integrity is like breathing to me. It says who I am and what I believe in.
  2. Integrity is something I put on when I need it. I wear it like the jumper Grandma gave me for Christmas last year – it’s itchy and uncomfortable but I have to put it on when she’s watching.
  3. Integrity – “Can you put it in a sentence?”

Here’s what I think. Integrity is that part of you that says –

  • Even though I’m tired, I will turn up to rehearsal, because my absence inconveniences those working on the stage with me.
  • I would love to accept that role but I have already committed to another show, and to pull out now would make things very difficult for that production.
  • I will learn my stuff and turn up to rehearsal prepared because that shows my respect for the team and our show.
  • I have to accept a work roster so I will let the stage manager/director know immediately so that they have the opportunity to reorganise the rehearsal.

Do you see the common theme of all these? They’re about other people and our respect for them. Our attitude/actions say, ‘I respect you and I am self aware enough to know how my actions may affect you.’

In a world that tells us that we must look out for ourselves, we often interpret this as at the expense of other people. In life and definitely in the theatre, this attitude will always come back to bite you on the behind.

Whether you’re aware of it or not, you are developing a reputation, in real life and online. What do you want that reputation to say about you?

SIDE NOTE: For those of you wanting to build a career in the arts, don’t make the mistake of thinking that your online life won’t come into play. It’s your voice to the world. What is that voice saying about your integrity?

So, how does integrity play out in casting?

Let’s say I’m choosing between two equally talented performers. Both of them have a reputation that precedes them.

#One is very professional in her approach. Always turns up to rehearsals prepared, is a great team player and is fully committed to the show.

#Two has an ego the size of the state of Queensland, half arses rehearsals because she “needs an audience to really bring it”, and is a complete pain to work with.

Who do you think I’m going to cast? For me personally, I would go so far as to say that I would rather take a performer who will require a little more work on my part, than try and incorporate a diva into my team.

Integrity doesn’t mean you’re perfect. It says you are working to be better and that you take responsibility when you stuff up. And in life, we all stuff up.

Integrity is something you will take a lifetime to develop. It requires us to be life long learners and seekers of the truth about ourselves.

Seek out integrity, feed it, enjoy it. The world needs more of it.

Cheers, Sher.

sher-profile-image-2016The Idiot’s purpose is to encourage and equip community theatre to expect more and be extraodinary.

Learn more at Follow the Idiot on facebook @anidiotonstage and instagram @anidiotonstage.

Does this teapot make me look fat?

An Idiot On Stage

I wonder if Mrs Potts (Beauty and the Beast) has body issues? Does she stand in front of a mirror considering her backside or get frustrated trying to fit herself, from handle to spout, into a backstage selfie. It’s ridiculous to consider. She’s a character in a costume. No one expects Mrs Potts to be a size 10. But body image is something that many of us bring with us into the theatre. This is an emotional subject and before we go any further, I want to tell you that I get it.

I get the panic attacks, the fear, all of it! I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t give you the ‘five easy steps to developing a better body image’. I don’t know what they are. For me, developing a healthier body image has meant stumbling through experiences I would rather have avoided and, as I chose to be in the theatre, that meant I would have to work out my body image issues in front of an audience both on and off the stage.

If you have a body, you have an image of it. You’ve stood in front of a mirror and listed all the things that you don’t like about what you see. But if I asked you to show me the list of things you do like, you’d scrabble around in your pockets before admitting you forgot to write one.

We all have a list. I have one. But I didn’t realise how it impacted my life until a few years ago. I’d reached an age where I cared less what others thought (emphasis on less). I still cared just not as much as I did when I was in my 20s. But life changed when I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Treatment included losing a breast and eventually spending a long time without hair. Suddenly I realized how much of what I knew of myself was wrapped up in having hair to flick, how without eyebrows and lashes I looked like a bald eagle, and how my spectacular dance style (insert snigger here) was now limited to moves that did not require me to bend over for fear my prosthetic (from now on known as ‘le fillet’) would fall onto the floor. It’s a bit of a scene stealer.

I now had to deal with small children staring and pointing at me at the supermarket, asking their mother why I had left my hair at home or only shopping from the middle shelves of the produce aisles for fear of losing my false boob into the bananas. I laugh long and heartily about it now and, yes, you can all laugh, including the men who are squirming in their manly brogues.

This experience forced me to realise that the valuable part of me was not what I looked like. Of course, if you work in the theatre, you can be forgiven for thinking it’s everything about you. You’re judged on how you look from auditions to performance and, as a professional performer it’s a reality but I believe community theatre has to be different.

Community theatre exists to give people the opportunity to participate. We must try to be inclusive and embrace diversity. Yay, Hamilton! But we’re all still working through this concept and in the meantime, we have to deal with the issue of body image.

There are two sides of this subject – the actor and the costumer, but before we get serious, let me tell you the story of “Sherryl-Lee’s Big Realisation”.

It was a few years after my cancer and I decided to audition for a major concert performance. My vocal audition went well. I congratulated myself on having it all together, smiling wisely at the self-deprecating comments of the other auditionees. Self-righteous git! I was cast as a featured singer and, as rehearsals began, I felt comfortable and confident with myself. Because I wasn’t dancing, I could wear costumes that covered my floppy triceps and no one would ask to see my legs. Life was good. I graciously accepted when asked to provide vocal support to the dancers of a major dance number, after all, I was a mature, experienced performer. *cough*”idiot!”

Is it only me or has anyone else noticed that, the minute you start to think too highly of yourself, your face ends up squarely on the floor of the stage – DOWN STAGE CENTRE! Somehow, I ended up IN the dance. In spite of my vigorous protests, I found myself, a 45 year old woman with floppy triceps, dancing amongst a group of 20 somethings that, no matter how much they jumped around, nothing moved. You can imagine my first reaction – oh, crap. My second reaction – OH, CRAP – came when I got my costume. Remember – ‘le fillet’! I was expecting to hide it nicely in a demure dress AS A SINGER. Instead, they hand me a singlet top. A BLOODY SINGLET TOP! What do you expect me to do with my prosthetic? Glue it to my chest?

Editor’s note: There will be some who will now post about the wonders of the ‘mastectomy bra’. This wonderful invention has a pocket for you to insert your prosthetic into to stop it falling out when you bend over and when they develop one that doesn’t look like my grandmother’s underwear, I will wear it. I do not feel ‘beautiful’ in a bra that covers me from chin to upper thigh! Shall we continue.

I had visions of ‘le fillet’ flying out of my costume and into the orchestra pit. I voiced my concerns to the team. No one heard me. I didn’t want to be ‘that’ person but I was freaking out. It was at this point that I learned another lesson as a director:

I would always listen to my actors. I would hear them, challenging them if they were being precious and then solve the problem. But I would always hear them.

Concert night arrived and I put my 45 year old floppy body on stage with the defiance of a roaring lioness. I had tightened my bra straps so much that I could barely breath but I didn’t care. I only had to last for 3 and half minutes. I could breath when I came off stage but I wasn’t giving that prosthetic any opportunity to take out the dancer to my right during the third turn in the routine.

I danced through sheer terror that night. As I exited the stage after the routine, I realized that I had to make some changes. I wanted to continue working in the theatre but I couldn’t freak out every time I went to a costume call. This was not going to be the filter through which I made decisions, limiting my life and experiences. Cue inspirational music.

I’d like to tell you how I made these changes. If I could list the 5 Steps here I would but to be honest, I don’t remember it happening. All I know is that I made the determination to figure out where my sense of self-worth came from. Once I did that, I realized I didn’t have to try so hard. There wasn’t another human being that could tell me what I was worth. I could laugh at myself and be happy. I don’t always get it right and when I listen too much to the world around me, I notice the old fears trying to creep back in.

So where does the ‘le fillet’ incident impact my theatre life? It leads to some very important lessons.

Lesson One – It’s not all about you.

Actors – stop expecting costuming to deal with your body image issues. It’s not their job. It’s yours! You’ve chosen to be an actor and if you are more concerned with how a costume makes you personally feel or look than whether it projects your character within the show, then you have some basic stagecraft lessons to learn. You are playing a character, not yourself. Costuming has no interest in making you look ‘bad’. Their only interest is supporting the artistic vision of the whole show.

Lesson Two – ‘Shut up and wear the bloody costume’ is not your best approach.

Costumers – In community theatre, you do not usually have the luxury to cast to size. Costume teams should be following an overall artistic vision but you must never be contemptuous of people who have body issues. There is always more than one way to do things. It’s community theatre and the actors are not being paid to ‘shut up and wear the bloody costume’. You’re a creative – problem solve and respect. 

I said in the beginning that I didn’t know how to fix this for you but here’s what I know for myself –

  • It’s a costume for a character, not a personal reflection of me.
  • Everyone deserves respect. Community theatre creatives are volunteers, doing something they love. They don’t work for you.
  • That voice in your head that is telling you that you aren’t good enough is a big stinking liar.
  • As long as you make the choice to listen to that voice, and you’re making a choice, you will not look for avenues of change or growth.
  • Life is short. Please don’t waste time listening to the freaking lies in your head. Your life will remain small and you’ll miss out on all the wonderful, scary, exciting, exhilarating, passionate, terrifying, courageous experiences that are waiting for you.
  • Grow, let go of the familiar, and listen to those around you that tell you that you are enough.
  • You were never meant to be a version of someone else. You were meant to be the one single version of you. When you finally figure out that you suck at being someone else, you will begin to be a spectacular you.

Now that’s better than a ‘fillet’ in the eye.



Sherryl-Lee Secomb is the creator of An Idiot On Stage.

The Idiot exists to encourage and equip community theatre to expect more and be extraordinary. Learn more about the Idiot at, follow the Idiot on Facebook, Instagram and enjoy hundreds of theatre resources on the Idiot’s Pinterest boards.