No news is…?

I’ve never been able to work out if I’m an optimist or a pessimist. Is the glass half full, or half empty? I joking reply – ‘more to the point, who’s round is it?’

I joke in response to the question, to avoid the question – as I still can’t answer it… There’s something in there, but I wish there was more, but thankful that it’s not empty.

I must to some degree be an optimist, as I wouldn’t write if I weren’t. Why waste my time if I thought that no one would produce my work? But I must be a pessimist, as if I see an opportunity, I more often than not say that it is too good to be true.

Why raise this today? It’s that dreaded day – the shortlist for Channel 4’s, The Play’s the Thing.

No mail, no phone calls, no emails. It wasn’t me then.

Did I think that I had a chance? We’re back to the half full or half empty thing again. Yeah, I thought I had a chance – I believe in my work, I believe in my passion, I believe that I could have made a forceful competitor. But then… No, they wanted someone new, someone to develop, someone without bad habits to correct…

Am I disappointed? Sure – but not really. I really wanted the break it could have given me. But would I have enjoyed the pressureof Reality TV? Don’t get me wrong, I would have done it – such is the belief I have in what I do… But would I have enjoyed it…?

At least now I have a new play to pitch. An artist director to contact without jeopardise my entry. A writing partner. New friends. New ideas. New inspiration.

I think that this weekend will be spent looking down avenues… It’s time to get out there again, write for my audience and pitch them anew.

The first cut is the hardest

I’ve always found the editing process somewhat painful. But it is a necessary evil.

Indeed, some parts are almost fun – or should I say, they make you happier with the play: Removing typographical errors, dealing with continuity errors…

But as yet, I have never written play that is the right length when I’ve finished. Every one has been a little too long. In the case of Denim, it was about 10 pages over…

You have to go over the entire script and see what you should and what you could lose to bring the play back to the right length.

The easiest way for me to reduce the length is to revisit the stage directions in the play. I know that I put too much detail into them. But it focuses my mind during the writing process of what I want to achieve in that scene.

In the first edit, these are things that can be removed quite easily. Each and every stage direction has to be questioned for validity. You have to ask yourself, ‘do I really need to tell the actor that?’, ‘am I doing the director’s job?’. If the answer is ‘yes’, the direction has to be cut.

Thankfully, I’ve got out of the habit of including wrylies, so I don’t have to cut them.

But this play is by far the most painful to edit. First, it’s far too long (By about 25 + pages!). Second, I am finding it difficult to summon the courage to make cuts…

Why? Remember that this play is a collaboration. I’m quite happy to hack and slash my scenes, but when I come to look over my co-writers work, I feel myself holding the mouse back and fearing the delete key.

This collaboration has been on of the most exciting writing projects I have undertaken. And although this may sound juvenile, I don’t want to upset him by cutting lines that they love… I know how hard it is for me to cut my own dialogue – but I know the reason for cutting it… And time doesn’t allow me the luxury of explaining every single cut I make.

So, I’ve made my first pass over the script and have passed it back. So far his reaction to what I have done has been fine… I hope that he’s as brutal with my scenes as I have been with his – else I’m going to feel like a mercenary git!

But I know why this script is too long! This is the first play that I have written without some form of Scenario. This play is free-formed – and it has produced a product that will keep the audience engaged for the duration. But the result is that we have taken the plot where we wanted at that time, but paid no heed to the length.

We’ll get it there though. It’s not going to be easy and emotions are bound to rise at some point… But the exciting thing is that we’re already talking about writing another play. This time, I think we’ll put in place a few ground rules to make our lives a little easier at the edit stage.

Curtain!

I’ve done it! I post this within 5 minutes finishing writing the last scene of my ‘work-in-progress’!

Stuff it! It’s not a work in progress any more! It’s a play! It’s a manuscript!

Time to celebrate!

No words to put here now… I’ll ramble again another time. But to all playwrights out there… There is no joy like the joy of typing the letters:

C-U-R-T-A-I-N

It’ll all come together in the edit…

I’ve nearly finished my current work-in-progress! As with any project, it only takes 10% of the time to do 90% of the work. But my co-writer noted that there may be a problem with length.

With the final two scenes to go, the manuscript stands at 130 pages! So it’s official, it’s not that there may be a problem with length, there is a problem.

If you’re using the right formatting in creating your manuscript, each page roughly translates to 60 secs – so this one is already running at 2 hours 10 minutes without the final two scenes! For a play to be commercially viable, it’s recommended that the first act runs in 55 mins and the second in 50. Indeed, that was our goal. But this play has run away with us; the themes it has thrown up are greater than either of us imagined.

Now if I was sensible, I would finish of the writing process and worry about the length later. But who ever suggested that I am sensible? I have spent a couple of nights reviewing the manuscript to see where cuts can be made.

It’s a painful process. First it highlights the typos and continuity errors you have overlooked in the writing process – then you become passionate about the dialogue you have written: You have inserted those lines for a reason – to remove them is like dismissing your own children.

But it has to be done. You have to develop a thick skin and question every word, every line and every direction.

But it was the last of these that made me realise, this is the time to be sensible for once in my life. I have Rambled before about stage directions in a manuscript – and I realised that I was not following my own advice. There were more than a few tautological directions in there, plus others that should be left to a director to determine for themselves. Plus, when I was reading them, I started to question the cast size.

For once I realised that if I started making edits now, there was a definite chance that I could remove the passion from the play – along with removing characters that could well develop in the last two scenes to enable the play to consolidate.

So the play has been saved as a separate file. I’ve locked it. It’s now time to get the thing finished. It’s time to let the story takes its path and finish where it needs to.

The edits can come later – they have to be driven by the conclusion, not by my interpretations of its commercial viability.

The only trouble is, I now have to follow my own advice. So if anyone knows of any online courses about self-discipline…

Stop the real world... I want to get on!

Since I started writing plays, I’ve come up with so many ideas on how I can gain that elusive professional performance. A lot of them were extremely naive. After all, when the adjudicator that saw my first play told me I should send it off to agents, I actually thought that the first guy I sent it to would accept it on his books without question!

Once I alleviated myself of that illusion, I started planning new ways for agents and theatres to take me seriously. First, was getting any form of production. My first play was produced and well received, so why wouldn’t the next play. But this time, I would invite agents to come along and see it.

Dumb! The second production was performed in deepest darkest Oxfordshire. What were the chances of getting a London based agent to travel out to see my play that was being performed by an amateur company? Zero! But I couldn’t see that then. I even felt cheated when it won best overall performance.

Even more so when Denim won production of the year in a regional newspaper (i.e. not local) against 80 other productions. But after that award, I wrote to agents telling them about the win, judged as it was by professional drama critics. My thoughts were that this would make them me seriously. Did they hell. In fact, without exception, not a single agent bothered to reply.

Now, I have to realise that they aren’t interested. And it’s not because my plays are no good, it’s just the fact that they were amateur performances. Amateur to a professional means “no good”, “poor”, “without merit”. Having attended more than my fair share of amateur productions, I know that there are some shockingly bad productions out there. But equally, there are some stunning productions that in some cases exceed their professional counterparts. But I have to accept that the industry does not care about amateur productions – and place no weight behind them.

Does that mean that I will not offer my plays to amateur groups? Not a chance! The amount I have learnt from seeing my words acted before me is immense. And the feedback I have gained from casts, directors and producers… Its better than anything I have ever received from an agent.

I even thought about raising the capital to fund a professional production myself… But then when I saw how much that would cost… I do have a family after all…

Why do I mention this today? Because I entered a debate about this very subject today. I pointed out the realities of amateur performances, raising money, pitching agents… And I felt as though I was being negative. Indeed, I felt that people thought that I was discouraging them from taking their work forward – which of course is the last thing I want to do.

But I am serious about getting that production. And to be serious, I have to accept what is real. Once I’ve done this, I have to get out there and represent my plays in a business-like manner.

Does this take the fun out of the process? Maybe. But I started writing for fun. Now I write to get performed. But one thing hasn’t changed – I still dream.

I have the courage to dream, but I also have the courage to make that dream a reality. And in that reality, you have to realise what allegedly prejudices agents/theatres/production companies against producing your work. Every day I learn something about the theatre business – and more often than now, another barrier is placed in my path…

But am I going to give up? I still have the dream. I now have determined courage to make that dream a reality. So, I find out about new barriers – I just have to find new ways to bridge them.

No one said it was going to be easy.

Could you give me directions to…?

There is a lot of debate about the inclusion of stage directions in a manuscript. And I’m the first to admit that I have had a fair amount of criticism about them in my manuscripts – but I hasten to point out that I’ve had comments about inserting too many and comments about not inserting enough!

So what’s the problem?

A hard lesson to learn once you’ve started on the playwrights path, is that you are only the playwright. Now that might sound obvious, but it has significant impact on your work.

You are not the actor. As such, you may well have envisaged how a line should be delivered – but it doesn’t mean that an actor is going to interpret it that way. Indeed, a lot of the time, that’s a good thing! Their interpretation could well be an improvement on yours… But that will flash a lot of playwrights up!

So many playwrights will endeavour to ensure that the line is delivered in the manner they envisaged. All too often you will find lines by new playwrights like:

JAMES: (Angrily) I told you to leave.

HELEN: (Wryly) Why didn’t you tell me earlier?

JEMMA: (Sarcastically) Oh, I really like that.

The second example is why in the world of screenplays they are referred to as ‘wrylies’. And in essence, there is no excuse for any of these examples.

If you want an actor to deliver an angry line… Write – An – Angry – Line! “I told you to leave.” Can be read so many different ways! But what about:

JAMES: I’ve warned you! Now get out of here before I do something you’ll regret!

Agreed, there’s more than one way to deliver this line – but each of them ‘should’ carry an angry tone.

Now, many playwrights will hate that (the fact that the actor can interpret a line). But the job of a playwright is to tell a story. You’ve got to let the actor do the acting.

The same is generally true for Directors. You got to let them do the directing… So you have to be carefull about what stage directions to include.

When I started out, I did have passages that read like:

JAMES: Hang on. I need to make a note of that.

JAMES PRODUCES A NOTEPAD AND PEN
AND WRITES DOWN THE DETAILS.

In reflection, that is verging on the tautological. If a character says that they are going to do something, isn’t it fairly obvious what action they are going to carry out on the stage.

But I have gained criticism for the number of blocking (where the actors move) directions I have inserted in some of my manuscripts. And I know that a lot of directors don’t like them. But, when I reviewed my scripts, I could see that I had put them there for a reason. And that reason, I described in my previous Ramble… Focus.

In one play, I had the cast and director come up to me and tell me that they didn’t have anywhere near as many stage directions in the script as they wanted! So you can’t win…

But I guess I ramble about it today, so that when you write your next scene, you end up asking yourself “Do I really need to tell the actor/director to do that?”.

Me? Well, it’s very rarely that I need directions to my front door – but that all depends on where I start off from and what state I’m in… I guess you have to work out the same for your plays…

(I’ve decided to put a brief note about this in my Author’s Note that precede each manuscript!)

Blurred vision

At last, I’ve managed to get back into my writing! Spurred on by the result in the cricket, I jumped behind the PC and started work on finishing my current work in progress.

This did cause a slight problem though – I had to get myself back up to speed with what was happening in the play. So I read the preceding scene… Damn it! Problem…

There are a few fundamental differences between writing a novel and writing for the stage… the first is fairly obvious: in a stage play there is a lot more dialogue. But the second can get away from a playwright from time to time: Focus.

When writing a novel, it can be ‘easier’ to accomplish, as the reader tends to follow the book through a single set of eyes dictated by the author. But in a stage play, you have to ensure that the audience are looking at the part of the stage you desire. When there are actors on the stage that don’t have a line for a while, you have to determine if you really need them there? If you do, you have to engineer a way to ensure that the audience are focusing on the action on the stage, rather than looking at the mute actor trying to figure out what they are going to do next.

Re-visiting the preceding scene, I realised that I had been swept away in the process of writing the dialogue and had forgotten this matter of focus. For the next two hours I reworked tiny sections of the dialogue and added a couple of stage directions (contentious, but that’s a subject for another ramble!). In all, I think I made 9 changes in total, but it took me all that time to accomplish them.

It makes you realise that you have to think in 5 dimensions when writing for the stage: The first three are easy enough; up, down, in, out, left, right (do the hokey-cokey and we turn around…). The forth comes with practice: Time – ensuring you know how to set the pace and give realistic timescales for action to take place. And the fifth – you have to be able to see the stage from the viewpoint of different members of the audience.

And when I say different members, I’m not talking about different seats – I mean different mind sets. You have the nit-picker, looking for errors; the traditionalist, who doesn’t like silent actors on the stage; the new-comer, that doesn’t know what the ‘rules’ are, the young, the old… With each line of dialogue, with every exchange, you have to think of them and calculate how you are going to get them to focus on the element you need them to take on board to ensure that the plot develops…

It’s no wonder that I feel like I need to visit the optician every now and again.

Fake nails

This is just getting silly now! My rational brain has told me that the competition for The Play’s The Thing is well and truly over. When you are running a competition this big and its going to cost so much money – surely you would vet the competitors to de-risk the project. So… it’s just time to get on with life.

But the Production Team did say that there was still a month left to go…

I should be writing! I feel sick to the stomach that I haven’t written anywhere near as much as would like to! Domestic life it getting in the way – plus this nagging feeling that there is still a chance in the competition…

It’s so hard to give up on this thing… I know how hard it is to pitch to agents, how hard it is to even get a theatre to accept a manuscript… Then comes the months of waiting for a reply… if you get one! (And that’s a big fat no from the playwright and director I pitched last time!)

The thought of going back to that is somewhat unpleasant… But it won’t stop me. I’ve never been one to wish time away, but if only today was 29 September 05… That way, I could wake up tomorrow and get on with things…

As it is, I’ll somehow force myself behind the PC and stop biting my nails. The joy is, when I do get there, I’ll be able to escape into my own imagination. The competition doesn’t exist in there.

It’s most definitely time to start dreaming new dreams and stop gnawing on my knuckles.

What’s the point…?

I’ve been running my site for a few years now. I’ll admit that I was somewhat naïve as to what it would accomplish for me. I at first thought that it would enable me to secure a professional production – but let’s be honest, how many agents and production companies do you thing go surfing the net looking for their next play?

So why do I still do it? A couple of years ago I was very nearly entrapped by a publishing scammer. It was thanks to the people I know from the internet that I managed to see through their cover and managed to get myself out of any danger. As such, I have continued to share my experiences here in the hope that someone will read them and avoid getting into a similar situation.

My father once told me it was the difference between experience and wisdom: Experience is when you trip over a paving stone, break your leg and resolve not to trip over it again; Wisdom is when you watch someone trip on the paving stone, break their leg and resolve not to trip over it in the first place.

I’ve also got examples of my work on the site. These are there for two reasons: When I approach an agent or a production company, I make sure that I include the site’s URL. This isn’t going to make them want my work, but I hope that it demonstrates how serious I am about my writing. The other reason is that it is useful for Amateur Companies… It gives them the opportunity to read my work and shows what awards they have gained.

So, what makes me make this Ramble today? For some reason, there are writers out there that are not supportive. Indeed they can sometimes be argumentative and disruptive.

Why they do this, I don’t know – maybe they feel that it makes their work look better. Maybe they think they have more of a right to call themselves writers than others…

I’ve locked horns with one such writer. I’ve done my best not to be rude, to debate points and correct misinformation. But that has not resolved the matter. They took it upon themselves to libel me and attempt to disrupt my site and it’s asset – all of this as they are happy to remain anonymous in the darkness of the internet.

This has made me more determined than ever to share my experiences in the hope that someone will pick up a nugget of ‘wisdom’ – and made me even more determined to get that professional production.

There are some great people out there desperately trying to gain recognition for their writing and are willing to be supportive to other writers…

That’s why I bother.

Guilt without pain

You may have noticed that there were a couple of comments against my previous blog, but I have since deleted them.

Unfortunately, the first of these comments was just too inappropriate for me to have on this blog. I know that comments will attract some adverts – and I guess that I don’t mind that too much… But making comments about fostering children and advertising on the back of it – I find that sickening! Why? Read Denim on my site and you’ll understand. Denim is my story. Fostering and adopting are precious gifts to children – advertising on the back of that…

I can’t bring myself to use the language I want to – but I think you get my meaning!

Skill sets

I’ve come to realise that a writer needs more than the ability to write. Or should that be, to become a successful writer you need more than the ability to write?
You’ve spent hours behind the PC, crafting your dialogue. You’ve double, triple and quadruple checked that the staging is feasible. The manuscript is finished!

But, that’s all it is. A manuscript. A computer file or maybe a nicely bound collection of pages. What good is that to anyone?

Painful as it is to acknowledge, the writing is the easy part. Getting a production – there’s the real work.

I admit, I’ve got lucky. All three of my full-length plays have been produced – albeit by AmDram companies – but the lessons I have learnt from them! But I know a lot of people that haven’t even had that.

I was asked to write Prime Directive, so that was virtually assured a production. It’s second performance was caused by joining a new theatre club for their pantomime – I was asked by the producer if she could read it, once she discovered I wrote. Denim was produced my one of my readers – you incidentally starred in the production of the first play. And Mark of a Gentleman was directed by the one of the company of Prime Directive’s second production…

Confused? I’m not surprised! But the real luck came from the fact that my first play was produced for a competition. It was the adjudicator that told me I had something there. Indeed, each play I have had produced was entered into a competition – and without exception, each has won a prize. This has made getting further productions easier – but they are AmDram performances.

There’s nothing wrong with that – and the AmDram market is the largest theatre market out there.

But I aspire to having a professional production, so that even more people can see what I have done and tell them my stories.

I did my research and started contacting agents. Then I discovered that I needed to develop new skills:

Marketing/Advertising – You can’t just send someone a play and hope that they will love it as much as you and produce it. You have to sell it to them. You have to convince them that there is an audience out there that would want to see this play. You have to find that play’s USP (Unique Selling Point – sickening jargon I know, but if you want to flog it, you have to understand it!).

Presentation Skills – Once you’ve decided that you want your play to be professional produced, you no longer go to the theatre… You go looking for contacts. You have to be able to talk confidently about your works and attempt to get them as enthused as you – just so that they will be willing to read your manuscript.

Sheer Bloody Nerve – Before talking to someone, you need to have developed the neck to talk to them in the first place! (I went to the theatre with my wife and she spotted an old family friend – who turned out to be the Theatre Manager. We were on a social evening, but I had to force myself to walk over to him and ask if they were taking submissions – while he was trying to get the audience back to their seats! It worked though – I managed to get the opportunity to send the Artistic Director one of my plays.)

I’m sure that there are other skills I need and I’m not aware of. I must be, after all I haven’t secured that professional production yet.

But it is an uncomfortable process. By nature, writers aren’t people that shout about how wonderful they are – they prefer the safety of the solitude of their writing environment. No wonder professional writers employ agents.

But as uncomfortable it is, it has to be done. Else that manuscript is going to gather dust like countless other thousands belonging to writers unwilling or afraid to get out there and sell themselves.

So I will continue to sell myself – Would I buy stock in myself? Yes – I know that it will happen for me. Will others? I guess I’ll have to learn how to be a better salesman and find out.

When reality intrudes

Ask a smoker what the worst situation they can be placed in and the response might surprise you. It won’t be the long journey in a 'no smoking' vehicle. It won’t be visiting someone that lives in a non-smoking house. It won’t even be the argument with a impassioned anti-smoker. It will be having a packet of cigarettes and no light. That’s worse than having no cigarettes at all.

It’s the same for a writer. Okay, as far as I know you don’t get cancer from writing and your clothes don’t stink (provided you can drag yourself away from the PC for long enough to have a shower) but there is a similarity –smokers and writers are both addicts.

Having no cigarettes is the equivalent of writer’s block – something that the non-writer knows about and thinks is the worst thing that can happen to them. I’ve rambled before about my Freewheeling Brian, a condition I feel more terrifying than writer’s block – but there is something worse! It’s having the packet of cigarettes and no light! You want to write, the story is there… But the time isn’t! Real life insists that you have to do something else rather than selfishly sit behind the PC and brain dump your dialogue…

My muse would appear to have take residence again. I am so close to completing my current work in progress, that I am desperate to get it over with – as I now know how I want to take the next play forward (I always try to work one play ahead of myself). But family life won’t permit me the time.

My youngest child has well and truly reached the age where they need to be in their own room, rather than spending the night with the wife and I. And in truth, the only reason that our youngest is still spending the night with us is because it makes us happy.

But the room is far from ready to accept a child. It needs decorating, carpeting, curtains fitted – not to mention actually having a door hung rather than the open frame it currently has.

So, my evenings are taken up with dubious quantities of DIY and my bad language. Yet all the time I am doing this, I feel guilty that I would rather be at the word processor finishing the play. I know that my family should come first – and I am putting them first… But I am slipping into schizophrenia. The characters are taking over my waking thoughts. I have to get them on paper to be free of them.

Then I look at the room – and my child’s face… I know what has to be done. Where did I put those new paint brushes?

Yeah… Smokers and writers – there are too many similarities…

Has anyone got a light?

Afraid of the dark

I feel like my writing life is on hold. The dreaded ‘shortlist day’ for The Play’s The Thing is looming and I’ve found myself positively not promoting my work.

I have the opportunity to forward my manuscripts to a theatre that promotes new writing – but I have told myself that I won’t send them anything until ‘shortlist day’ passes. Why? Because I don’t want to jeopardise my entry to the competition.

Okay, so this theatre wouldn’t use any of my manuscripts, as if they were interested in my writing, they would commission me to write a play (it’s cheaper to do that!), but it’s the doubt of what the competition runners would make of me saying “By the way XXXX is reading that play at them moment”.

Paranoia is rife! The Production Team tells us not to rule ourselves out, but my gut tells me they’ve already made their minds up – and I’m just sat here wasting precious time!

I told you that writers were a pessimistic breed!

But all this waiting is diluting time. It’s a matter of days until the dreaded day – but each day passes slower.

I feel like I have been placed in a pitch black room and told to wait for someone to open the door. If no one has collected me in an hour, I’m to leave of my own accord. But if I leave before the hour has elapsed, the consequences will be severe. But sat there in the dark, I can’t see my watch – so, just how much time has elapsed? Will I be sat there for 6 hours, desperate for someone to open the door?

It’s at times like these I wish I had brought my torch.

Sight Setting

Why it is that the British are obsessed with losing? Why is it that we assume that we are going to clutch defeat from the jaws of victory?

I remember hearing as a child that you should never set your aims to high to avoid disappointment. I also remember the disappointment that instilled in me.

I’ve mentioned before that writers are a pessimistic breed, but there is one thing that they are positive about – the fact that they are going to lose!

They are even proactive in telling each other that they are all wasting their time, as no one will ever produce their plays or publish their book. So why bother?

I know why I do… I am determined that I will one day gain that elusive professional production and make that enormous leap to earning my income from my writing, rather than pulling a salary from someone else.

Am I setting my goals too high? Maybe… But I don’t care.

I’d sooner be chasing the dream of getting a professional production for the rest of my life, than asking myself “What if?”. At least I would be doing something, at least I would be trying to entertain people; rather than sitting back and expecting others to entertain me.

So tell me, what is wrong with setting your sights high? If people didn’t, where would we be? Anybody fancy aiming for the stars with me?

Change of Mood

Writers are a temperamental breed. Give then an opportunity to feel sour, or feel hard done by; and they’ll take it.

The business of The Play’s The Thing shortlist gave all the entrants that are still using the forum the opportunity to be negative (including myself). Theories of how those on the shortlist would have been informed by now were rife – and there is still a month left. There were even rumours floating that one of the posters had been shortlisted and casual requests of him to confirm it – knowing that this would have breached any confidentiality agreement and thrown him out of the competition. There were even playful comments of pyrotechnic fun if he did turn out to be on the list.

In general the mood was somewhat negative and the forum was very much running out of steam.

I say ‘was’, as the Production Team had obviously been reading the comments. They made the point of posting a message, informing everyone where they were with the competition – and explained that they were still assessing who could end up on the shortlist, and that as there was a month to go, not to rule yourself out just yet.

The mood on the forum and in the chatrooms exploded. People started posting again, they started playing – they even started talking about writing!

Okay, the Production Team could have been lying… but having seen the improved temperament of the competitors (including myself)… who cares?

Now, if only I could find my Muse, I’d be flying!