Writing recently for Lit Hub’s Craft of Writing newsletter, Fusselman shared her personal artistic philosophy, outlining how regular attendance at theatrical performances has transformed her writing practice and directly influenced her latest novel, Cloud Six, published by Catapult. Rather than relying on standard writing prompts or isolated reflection, Fusselman looks to the performing arts to jolt her imagination, confront her assumptions, and help her uncover what she describes as the "dead zones" in her writing process where unexamined ideas quietly linger.
The Challenge of Creating the New
To understand Fusselman’s unique approach to overcoming creative barriers, one must first look at the inherent limitations faced by any human creator. As a writer striving to produce original work, Fusselman often finds herself grappling with a profound artistic dilemma: how to create something genuinely novel when human imagination is inherently shaped by past exposure.
To illustrate this creative confinement, Fusselman invokes the theories of the French otolaryngologist Dr. Alfred Tomatis. Dr. Tomatis posited a foundational concept regarding human sensory perception and expression, suggesting famously that the voice cannot produce what the ear cannot hear. For Fusselman, this scientific observation serves as a powerful metaphor for the difficulties writers encounter when trying to innovate. Human makers, she suggests, are frequently locked inside a closed system, inherently restricted to producing work that falls within the established range of their prior experiences and cultural consumption.
Breaking out of this insular loop requires an intentional disruption of one’s usual habits. While searching for unexamined biases and blind spots in her own work, Fusselman discovered that the most effective remedy was not reading more literature—which often triggers impatience or critical weariness—but rather studying an entirely different artistic medium. For her, that medium is theater.
Why Theater Serves the Writing Process
What began as a simple pastime for an enthusiastic fan has gradually evolved into an essential, structured component of Fusselman’s creative workflow. She points to several practical and psychological reasons why theater offers a superior environment for artistic rejuvenation compared to traditional reading.
First and foremost is efficiency and scope. While reading a novel from cover to cover can demand days or even weeks of sustained concentration, a theatrical production offers a compressed, highly concentrated masterclass in storytelling. Within the span of a single evening—typically under three hours—an audience member can witness a completely realized artistic vision unfold. Drama forces creators to grapple with foundational narrative elements in real time, showcasing fully articulated approaches to plot, character development, dialogue, and setting.
Furthermore, Fusselman deeply appreciates the communal architecture of the theater experience. Sitting in the dark, surrounded by a roomful of fellow human beings watching performers on a stage, provides immediate feedback that solitary reading cannot match. As a well-worn adage in the arts suggests, an audience never lies. For a writer of narrative fiction, observing the visceral, real-time reactions of a crowd as a story develops offers invaluable lessons in pacing, tension, and emotional resonance.
Maintaining an attitude of open curiosity is paramount to this process. Fusselman emphasizes that she does not attend plays with the intention of becoming a theater critic or an academic expert; instead, she deliberately approaches the experience as a humble student. Cultivating this beginner’s mindset in the theater helps her reset her perspective, allowing her to return to her desk—and even to her reading list—with renewed patience, wonder, and flexibility.
Translating Performance into Prose
The benefits of this theatrical immersion extend far beyond mere relaxation or generalized inspiration; they actively reshape how Fusselman constructs her narratives. Regular exposure to live performance encourages lateral thinking, challenging her to look at theatrical devices and translate them into the medium of language.
When a particular stage production deeply moves or surprises her, it expands her internal boundaries regarding what her own prose is capable of achieving. In those rare, electric moments of artistic revelation, she feels a profound sense of reward—akin to the sensation of finally detecting a sound lingering just outside one’s normal hearing range.
This cross-pollination of artistic forms played a direct role in the creation of Fusselman’s novel, Cloud Six. By frequently attending performances, she found herself pondering fundamental structural questions about the nature of narrative art. Is a novel essentially a performance? And if so, what specific kind of performance is it? While Fusselman admits she has not fully answered these complex questions, simply contemplating them instilled a sense of creative fearlessness. This boldness proved crucial when she was tackling the intricate world-building required for Cloud Six.
Embracing All Forms of Live Performance
Unlike her reading habits, which tend to be selective and governed by strong personal preferences, Fusselman adopts an egalitarian approach when it comes to the stage. She is willing to buy a ticket for virtually any type of live production, leading to a remarkably diverse theatrical diet.
Over the course of the year, her viewing experiences have spanned a wide spectrum of the performing arts. From avant-garde, boundary-pushing productions that left her utterly astounded—such as Victory Over the Sun by the Nature Theater of Oklahoma and Tanz by Florentina Holzinger—to sharply observed comedies about race like Race: The Movie: The Play by Bret Raybould and Cristian Duran, Fusselman embraces the full breadth of the medium. She has equally found charm and inspiration in intimate formats, such as the one-person clown show The Passion of Mr. Cardboard by Miles Calderon.
Of course, maintaining such a rigorous and varied theatergoing habit is aided significantly by geography. Fusselman lives in New York City on a vibrant block that conveniently houses three distinct off-off-Broadway theaters, alongside neighborhood staples like a Parisian tea room and a repurposed parking lot that doubles as a mosque.
Yet, the author is quick to point out that physical proximity to a major cultural hub like Broadway or off-Broadway is not a prerequisite for this creative practice. For writers residing in areas without a robust local theater scene, the underlying principle remains universal: the key is to actively study and immerse oneself in any beloved art form that is entirely separate from writing.
Ultimately, Fusselman suggests that human expression is deeply interconnected, observing that on some fundamental level, nearly everything in life shares the qualities of theater—with the sole exception of the solitary act of writing itself. Her latest novel, Cloud Six, is available now through publisher Catapult.
