Entertaining The Masses

So I have just received the final figures for the Waterside Theatre Company’s production of Denim. It always astounds me how so many people are interested in seeing new writing – and makes me even more frustrated that I can not break into professional productions.

The Waterside Theatre Company’s theatre is not exactly what could be described as being in a built up area. Indeed, if you click here you will see that it’s a former Esso Refinary Social Club. While it’s listed as Southampton, it’s nowhere near as built up.

But that said, over 200 people came and saw Denim. Over 200 people were willing to part with their money and see the play.

Talk to any professional company or theatrical literary agent and they’ll tell you that they won’t deal with an ‘unknown’ playwright as they can’t prove that their work will attract an audience.

At the moment, the professional theatre see me as a unknown playwright.

But, I counter, I can prove I can draw an audience! Ah, they counter, but that’s only AmDram. Yet, say I, the company may well be amateur, but I am a professional – I get paid! No, they reply, it doesn’t count.

But I say it does. And it may fall on deaf ears, but maybe an agent/director/producer out there will stumble on this blog (here’s hoping) and will take the time to hear me out.

For an amateur company to put one of my plays, they have to have one hell of a belief in my work. They have to be 100% that they are going to get an audience.

Why? Because if they don’t they loose the only thing that keeps the company going – cash. If the play doesn’t work, they don’t have enough money to put on their next production. Worse, if their audience don’t like the play, they won’t go to see another one there – and then the club dies.

This is why you find so many clubs opting to put on ‘Allo ‘Allo, Confusions, Bouncers and the likes. They play it safe and put on something that they know they will get an audience for – and hence gain an income.

So take the Waterside example. How much faith did they have in Denim? Isn’t that worth something? And over 200 people in this fairly remote area came and saw a play by an ‘unknown’ playwright.

So tell me… Do I have a track record? Is there something about my work that draws an audience? Is there a reason why professional theatre won’t consider my work?

Answers on a postcard please…

Finished?

Last Wednesday night I managed to finish the last of my ten shorts that make up ‘Error of Comedies: Occupations’. On a roll, I sat down and tried to work out what order they should be presented in.

Then something weird happened. If this were to be presented as a full-length two-act play, there were subtle links between each of the individual plays in each act. It was almost as though I had planned it.

I wish that I was that clever – but it must have been something sub-conscious that led them in that direction.

I posted on my Facebook group that I was looking for new pre-readers (a term that I created to indicate that you don’t need experience as a proof-reader, but basically just tell me if it works and point out any errors you see) printed a copy off for my committee of taste (my wife) and one of my finest proof-reader (my Mother-in-Law – with some degree of fear as she is a scary character and I had named one of the characters after her).

I received the manuscript back from my Mother-in-Law this morning and felt sick when I read her comments.

Not that she slammed any of the contents, but it was the fact that she picked up so many little errors that I should have spotted ages ago in my proofing stage. Stupid stuff like putting ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re’.

I’ve even been contacted by one of the actors from the last production of ‘Denim’ who has quite a lot of experience in proof-reading saying that he was willing to have a stab.

I wanted to have this published before Christmas, but after a couple of comments I realise that I am asking far too much of my pre-readers for that to happen. After all, they are volunteers and they have other things to do.

But it made me wonder when a play is ever finished. When is it ready to push out to the public?

I realise that I am often too close to the script as I have poured so much time into it, that I read what I think is there, not what is really there (otherwise I would never have made the ‘your’ mistake). So how long do I have to plan for a pre-reading stage before saying enough is enough and publish the thing?

I guess I will work that out in time – or I may end up with an agent and they will employ experts to help me through this stage.

Until then, if you are interested in pre-reading my new work, get in contact… And I’ll await the responses from those that have the play at the moment.

Danger Close

It’s an expression that the US military use to describe when friendly troops are very close to an artillery target. But that’s how I feel about my current play.

I am now roughly 10 pages from completing it. So in 10 pages time, I can print it out and send it to my pre-readers. Once I have their opinions and make the revisions for the typographical errors, the script could well be published by the end of next week.

So what is the play? I believe that I have mentioned it before, but I’m that excited about this work that I’ll cover old ground:

The play is entitled ‘Error of Comedies: Occupations’. It is a collection of 10 short plays associated with people’s job, perceptions of certain occupations and attempts to move up the professional ladder. As you might have guessed with my style of writing, they are all comic plays and each has its own little twist.

It is also a very flexible play as you can use it in many forms dependant on the requirements of your group or theatre. If you are putting on a review, you could use on or two scenes as sketches. If you’re entering a one act festival, you could use 3 or 4 of them. If you want to present a full-length two-act play, you simply stage all 10.

If going for all 10, you’ll find that there is a subtle link between the individual scenes, which is explained in the authors note at the rear of the script.

I can’t wait to get down to some serious writing tonight.

Work Ethic

The majority of my time as a playwright is spent in pain and frustration. Trying to force an idea into shape is painful; trying to get what is a good idea into such a shape that it runs for the right length, that it evokes a narrative and enables and actor to act is much like trying to put wire from your eye ball.

Then when the play is finished, you find yourself having to turn into a marketing executive: trying to find the play’s unique selling point, pitching it to theatres and groups and attempting to convince someone to ‘take the risk’ of putting on a play by an unknown. Take it a step further and you find yourself banging your head against the brick wall that is agents and professional theatre. You ask yourself why you even bother as the frustration takes its hold and you are wading through treacle.

To keep going, you need to have a strong work ethic and a passion for what you do. So many people think that they are capable of writing a play or a novel; but ask them how many they have finished and they soon turn quiet.

If you have written a book or a play and have completed it, give yourself a slap on the back and help yourself to a decent drink: You have achieved something that the majority will never accomplish.

Yet maintaining that work ethic is in itself painful. Trying to write when the muse is not in residence is like studying for an exam in a subject you detest. You may well put words on the screen (or on the page if your J K Rowling) but the quality may be awful.

Yesterday I realised that I am dangerously close to finishing my new play. I elected to devote the night to editing and proof-reading what I had. There was this doubt in my mind that the quality wasn’t there – and there is no way that I am about to publish something that is sub-standard.

I thought that I would only be capable of looking over about 20 pages… But once I was 5 pages in, I realised that I was feeling something I hadn’t felt in quite some time. The hairs were up on the back of my neck, I wanted to read more, I felt something strong about what I was reading… I was enjoying myself!

This was not a task that was being processed because it had to be for me to call myself a playwright. This was a joy, because I am a playwright and what I had in front of me was good enough (stuff that, it’s more than good enough – it’s great) to be staged before a paying audience.

The excitement I felt at midnight as I finished editing/proofing the 80 pages I had was palpable. I wanted to fire up Celtx and finish writing the damned thing. After all, I only have 20 pages to go…

Then reality stuck its unwelcome nose in. I have a day job. I had to get in the office the following morning. It was time to press the off switch and retire for the night.

So I did.

But this morning the anticipation of getting behind the PC and get down to writing those last 20 pages is driving me to distraction. I feel the end is near.

I have no doubt that my new play will be available to download or order for dispatch within a fortnight! I’ve even posted a note on my Facebook group to the same extent.

So I can’t wait for tonight, so that I can press the keys again and complete this task. There is one small problem: I have a panto rehearsal tonight…

Still, that’s not until 7:30 and should finish at 10:00. So that gives me two and a half hours after work, and if I work until midnight tonight, I could cram in another 2 hours after rehearsal…

I’ll post again soon with how I get on, and give you more details on the play itself.

Panto Panic

I haven’t posted about the panto I’m directing for a while… The main reason being that it has been too hectic to say anything coherent.

We’ve had a number of problems; the biggest of which was the loss of one of the dames and the other being ordered to be somewhere else on the night of the second performance. After a lot of discussion and begging, we have managed to find someone to stand in for the missing dame and have pulled the performance 2 weeks to the left! This doesn’t make life very easy for the cast as they have to cram everything in to a far shorter period.

And for me as a director, my biggest problem is cast.

Don’t get me wrong; the cast are fine and are trying hard. The problem with them is that they all have commitments: Day jobhs, families, individual studies… the list goes on. This makes it very hard for them to turn up each rehearsal. But they are amateurs and are doing it for fun. But when one member doesn’t make it to a rehearsal, then life gets so complicated for the rest of the cast as they are either acting against an empty space or they are acting against someone else that doesn’t necessarily understand the lines they are delivering.

But the joy of last night was that they suddenly turned it into a pantomime! It was funny! It had pace! It had the cast that were watching in the auditorium laughing!

Plus we’re now starting to purchase the kit we need for the set and I meet with the darling lady that is going to be my costume mistress.

People are even starting to talk about the next production.

It’s been a hard couple of weeks; but after last night I realised why I do it… It was fun!

Apathy or Unrealistic?

I’ve found myself feeling a little despondent about the review of the recent production of Denim. I posted a comment on the online review, making sure that one of the actors got a mention that was not included in the review.

I then posted here about what I thought of the review and messaged all the members of My Facebook group to read the review and make a comment.

So far there has only been one other comment – and that was by someone very close to me.
This has left me a little paranoid. Why aren’t there more comments? Did they think that this is a far description of the play? (I think not, given the comments I’ve seen on Facebook profiles.) Do people not care about the play?

Or am I just being unrealistic? It’s only a play after all. It was a night’s entertainment and nothing more. Those that were in the audience only took it away for one evening. They didn’t leave thinking about how I’m trying to promote my plays, trying to land a professional production, trying to get professionals to look at my work, how I am trying to shake this supposed career limiter of having amateur productions.

I know that I have to pick myself up and get on with writing and promoting my works. But at the moment I find myself in a little dark place that makes me wonder if I will ever get there. Will I ever get that professional production? Is my work good enough to make it?

I need a new tack; a new energy.

But how do I drum up the enthusiasm to do so?

When words don’t say that much

With any production I’ve had, I’ve always worried about the reviews the play will get – but it’s a delayed worry. After all, the instant worry is what are the audience going to say on the night?

We got through the instant worry without a flaw, as everyone was very complimentary about Denim – indeed I met a couple of people that are endeavouring to re-launch their club and were saying that they thought that Denim could be the very play to do it with.

But the delayed worry was published on Friday night. If you want to read the review (and see a rather gopping photo of me) then click here.

First and foremost, this isn’t a bad review. But in my opinion this isn’t a review at all. It’s a one line synopsis and a series of statements of facts – X played part Y who has the function of Z and did so well.

To me, this was a huge disappointment. I know that the review only had 150 words to play with, but this says nothing. What was the audiences reaction? How hard/close to the edge/risqué was the humour? There’s a sexual theme running through the play, so how did the audience react to such material…? Most of all, what did the reviewer think of the play?

From this review, I have no idea.

And that’s what upsets me. The cast and crew were astounding! This was the best production of Denim to date; and their reward…? That review.

They deserved more.

The reviewer does not realise what reviews do for a company (and for me, what it does for a playwright).

You are only as good as your last play. So, when advertising your next production, it is damned helpful to put up quotes of your last review. And this serves two functions: The club gets to say how good it is and the paper gets some free advertising.

But from this review, what could you quote?

Zip. Nada. Nowt. Nothing.

Sorry folks, but it left me feeling a little flat.

After all, if you’re going to put pen to paper – have something to say.