An Open Letter to Tech Week
There is a point during tech week when everyone involved in the production looks terrible.
The actors are running on vending-machine dinners. The costume team is still making alterations to clothing people are currently wearing. Someone from props disappeared hours ago and will eventually return carrying exactly one object that apparently required a trip across the state.
Meanwhile, the director has just had an idea.
Tech week has earned its reputation for a reason. It is the moment when every department finally comes together and discovers that nothing works quite the way everyone expected it to.
Scene changes take too long. Microphones cut out. Costumes rip. Actors forget lines they have known for weeks. A lighting cue that looked beautiful during programming suddenly makes half the cast disappear.
Everyone is tired, and tired theatre people are not always pleasant theatre people.
Still, I have always loved tech week.
There is something exciting about watching a production take shape in real time. On Monday, the show can look like it has absolutely no business opening. By Thursday, the pieces begin to connect. A transition that stopped rehearsal six times suddenly works. The set finally looks finished. The cast discovers what a scene feels like with the lights, costumes, sound, and audience energy it was always meant to have.
That transformation is why so many of us have tech-week stories.
But I also think theatre people can be a little too proud of how miserable we make ourselves during the process. We brag about sleeping four hours, skipping meals, and wearing the same clothes for several days as though exhaustion proves how committed we are.
It does not.
Nobody should have to work for 27 hours straight to demonstrate that they love theatre. A production should not require people to become physically ill before opening night. Sometimes the chaos is unavoidable. Other times, it is the result of poor planning, unrealistic expectations, or a culture that assumes everyone will sacrifice whatever is necessary to get the show open.
I can love the intensity of tech week without believing that burnout should be part of it.
What I love is the teamwork. I love watching people solve problems. I love the moment when a cast and crew who have been struggling all week finally realize they have a show.
By opening night, everyone is exhausted, relieved, and probably still covered in paint or sawdust.
But when the lights go down and the first cue works, there is no better feeling.
I just think we should be able to reach that moment without destroying ourselves along the way.