I'm a director. I coach directors applying to BFA and MFA programs.
You're applying to programs that will ask you what you think about theater, then judge you on how clearly you can say it.
Some students come to me knowing exactly what they care about and unable to get it onto the page. We find the language.
Others are sure they don't have a vision yet. Almost always they do. It's sitting in the plays they keep returning to, the images they can't shake, the thing that makes them angry. They just haven't learned to name it. Once you can name it, you can build an entire application around it.
Most college application coaches are acting coaches. That works until a school asks for a portfolio, a statement of artistic vision, and an interview about what you actually believe about theater.
I'm a director. I've taught at Boston University, Brown, and Northwestern, and I've spent my career directing, so I know what these programs are listening for.
These programs want two things at once. They want to know what you see in the world that nobody else does, and what you believe theater should do about it. Then they want evidence you can actually make it happen — that you can draw a performance out of an actor, give a designer something they can build on, and be the collaborator a writer wants back in the room.
I do both halves of that every time I direct. That's what I bring to your portfolio, your statements, and the interview.
Every student arrives at a different point. Some need a full map from June through auditions. Others have most of it handled and want help with the interview, or the monologues, or the essay that isn't landing.
And some are already strong. Those students don't need a map. They want a harder eye on the materials, and an interview rehearsal tougher than the real one.
We start with a conversation about where you are and what the schools on your list actually ask for. Then we build a plan together.
Undergraduate programs often ask you to perform a monologue, especially the ones where directing sits inside a combined acting BFA.
I choose material that lets a director's real strengths show — your instinct for text, your specificity, your point of view — instead of exposing the fact that you don't spend your life onstage.
You don't have to become an actor. You have to be undeniable for two minutes.
Not sure where you are in the process? Book a free 20-minute chat →
Most people call me in October. The ones who call in April have an easier winter. And if you're reading this three weeks out from a deadline, that's workable too. I've done good work in a short window.
Deadlines land in December and January. Start in the spring and you'll have about nine months — enough to build the portfolio and write the statements without rushing either one.
Most people who find this page are parents, so here's what I'd want to know in your position.
This won't feel like the college application process you know. I started doing this precisely because nobody tells you how it works, and I didn't want to keep watching good applicants make avoidable mistakes, or families stress over things that were solvable.
Come on the intro call with your kid and ask me anything. After that I usually work with the student directly and check in with you when it's useful.
The letters on the diploma don't matter. Access does.
Young directors grow by working with good actors and watching great teachers up close. A BFA usually gives you more of both: more production slots, stronger casts, faculty who still work professionally.
But it depends on the student. A BA at the right school with the right people beats a BFA at the wrong one.
So don't compare degrees. Compare rooms. Who would you be working with, and how often would you be in there?
No. Plenty of working directors don't have one.
But directing has a chicken-and-egg problem that acting doesn't. Nobody hires you until you've proved you can do the job, and you can't prove it until somebody hands you a budget, a cast, and a theater.
An MFA breaks that cycle. You come out with strong production photos, experience working with a real budget, and professional collaborative relationships. Those things move the needle when you're trying to book work.
Not on its own. No artistic director hires you because of a degree.
What separates directors is the depth and specificity of their voice, and whether they can make that vision happen inside whatever constraints they're handed — the budget, the space, the schedule, the cast. An MFA buys you two or three years to develop both before your career depends on it.
The other thing you leave with is people. A directing career runs on relationships more than almost any job in this business: the classmates, the faculty who know your work, the designers and actors who would recommend you or say yes when you call.
Short answer: for an MFA, almost never. For a BFA, sometimes.
None of these ask you to perform: Yale, Columbia, Northwestern, UT Austin, UC San Diego, CalArts, Boston University, DePaul. They want a portfolio, written statements, letters and an interview.
But watch the word "audition." At the graduate level it means directing, not acting.
That's the audition.
First thing to know: most of the well-known names don't have one. Yale, Columbia, Carnegie Mellon, Brown, DePaul and UC San Diego teach directing at the graduate level only.
Where undergraduate directing does exist, it splits two ways.
Directing inside a combined acting BFA. You do the same audition the actors do. Central Michigan's BFA in Acting and Directing asks for two contrasting contemporary monologues.
Directing with its own separate application. Usually a portfolio instead. Michigan wants a movement video and a vocalization video. Belmont wants a portfolio.
One that does both: Marymount Manhattan's BA in Directing asks for a two-minute monologue and a prompt book.
Check every school on your list. They really do differ.
If yours wants a monologue, that's the part I coach every day.
Evidence that you've made something. Evidence of how you think.
Programs want different pieces, but the core list is consistent:
Format varies. CalArts wants two video clips of five to seven minutes. Columbia asks for 15 to 20 minutes of video. Boston University wants materials from two productions, up to 18 files.
One instruction worth following: Boston University asks you not to submit full-length videos. Nobody wants to watch your whole show. Cut to the moments that show your hand.
The mistake I see most is treating it as a scrapbook. It isn't a record of everything you've done. It's an argument about how you see.
It's the essay where a program asks you to say what you actually believe about theater, and why you make it.
The names change. Yale calls it a statement of artistic purpose. UT Austin asks for two pages on your philosophy and personal theatre aesthetic. CalArts wants 500 words. DePaul asks for five separate statements, including one defining what you mean by "theatrical."
They're all asking the same thing. Do you have a point of view, and can you get it on the page in a way that makes someone lean forward?
Most applicants write around it. They describe productions they admired, or they list what they hope to learn. The essay that lands says something specific, personal and slightly risky about who you are, and why you're compelled to make theater.
It varies more than people expect. UC San Diego assigns you plays, then spends 45 minutes on one of them. Yale puts you in a room with two actors. DePaul hands you a scene and a cast and watches you work.
But underneath the format, every one of them is asking the same thing: who are you, and can you make me understand it?
In my experience the problem is almost never that someone lacks a point of view. It's that they can't translate it. Getting who you actually are into words a committee understands takes real self-work — distilling yourself into something you can say clearly, and quickly.
That's the work we do before you ever walk in the room.
For a BFA, no.
You need to talk about what directing actually involves and connect it to what you've already done. Organizing people. Making something out of nothing. Holding a room. Knowing how a story should feel. Schools want a person with something to say, not a résumé.
For an MFA, yes. Yale asks for "two years or more of professional directing experience since college graduation," though they note rare exceptions. Most programs want a portfolio of productions you've actually staged.
If you don't have that yet, go direct something and apply next year.
For a BFA, junior year of high school. That gives you a full summer to build the portfolio before senior year swallows everything.
For an MFA, about nine months out. Deadlines cluster in December and January, so that means starting in the spring.
That's the ideal. It isn't the requirement.
No.
Some people do their best work under pressure, and I've had students start very late and get in. What matters isn't how many months you have. It's how focused you are with the ones you've got.
If you're reading this three weeks out from a deadline, call me. We'll triage.
Both work. It comes down to whether you know your artistic questions yet.
An MFA is time to investigate something, and that only pays off if you know what you're investigating. If you finish undergrad already clear about your voice, and you've seen enough of the professional field to know how it actually runs, you're ready now.
If you're still working out what your voice is, or you haven't worked in the field yet, a few years out will serve you. You assist, you watch how professionals work, and the questions arrive on their own.
Some programs assume this. Yale asks for two years or more of professional directing experience since college graduation, with rare exceptions.
The test isn't your age or your résumé. It's whether you know what you'd go there to find out.
Yes, and I do it often.
Plenty of applicants split their list — some schools as a director, some as an actor. Many undergraduate directing programs have an acting component built in, so the two overlap anyway.
This is what I do every day — direct, and coach professional actors. I'm always putting the two together. Most college coaches do one or the other.
Programs change their requirements. Check the school's current page before you rely on any of this.
Twenty minutes, free. Tell me where you are and I'll tell you what I'd do. It isn't a sales call — some of these end with me saying you don't need me yet.