Amanda Dalton
Amanda Dalton is a playwright and poet. Plays and adaptations for the Royal Exchange Theatre are SECRET HEART, DOG BOY and STRAWGIRL. Other theatre includes MAPPING THE EDGE (Sheffield Theatres/Wilson+Wilson) and MULGRAVE (Wilson+Wilson). Eleven dramas for BBC Radio include ROOM OF LEAVES, NO HARM, STRIKE and, most recently, an adaptation of Hitchcock’s SPELLBOUND. She teaches on Manchester University’s “Writing for Performance” undergraduate module and has recently held the Fellowship in Creative Writing at Leeds University. She is Associate Director (Education) at the Royal Exchange.
A few thoughts about writing plays – for people who think they can’t do it.
I think I always knew I wanted to write. Writing stories and poems was one of my favourite things at school – and out of school – but when I was about eighteen, I stopped. I went to college and stuff, and then I got a job, and then I spent years thinking, every now and then, about writing – but I never did it. I thought I couldn’t. I thought I’d be rubbish and that, somehow, my life (quite ordinary and boringly sensible) wasn’t the kind of life that people who became writers ever had (bohemian, risky, plugged into the world of writing since birth… I thought).
I know now that I was really wrong, in lots of ways. But it took me until I was thirty-five to be brave enough to go on a course about writing poems, and another six years until I had a go at a play. That sometimes feels like a lot of wasted writing years – and mostly because I felt a bit stupid and not sure how or where to start.
So – my tips for writing aren’t going to be about having characters that are concrete, that you know and care about and don’t judge. They’re not going to be about how those characters need to want something and how your play needs to explore how they get it/don’t get it/ what gets in their way / how the journey changes things. And they’re not going to be about how Drama always happens in the present tense. All of those things are true and really important. But my tips, for what they’re worth, aren’t really tips at all – they’re more like memories, or observations. They’re a kicking around of some things I remember feeling when I first tried to write a play, and things I see and hear now, working with all kinds of people (in my job as Education Director at the theatre) - people who’re drawn to theatre but often feel daunted by it – not sure they’ll understand it, can be part of it, can do it …. whatever “it” may be.
Amanda Dalton is a playwright and poet. Plays and adaptations for the Royal Exchange Theatre are SECRET HEART, DOG BOY and STRAWGIRL. Other theatre includes MAPPING THE EDGE (Sheffield Theatres/Wilson+Wilson) and MULGRAVE (Wilson+Wilson). Eleven dramas for BBC Radio include ROOM OF LEAVES, NO HARM, STRIKE and, most recently, an adaptation of Hitchcock’s SPELLBOUND. She teaches on Manchester University’s “Writing for Performance” undergraduate module and has recently held the Fellowship in Creative Writing at Leeds University. She is Associate Director (Education) at the Royal Exchange.A few thoughts about writing plays – for people who think they can’t do it.
I think I always knew I wanted to write. Writing stories and poems was one of my favourite things at school – and out of school – but when I was about eighteen, I stopped. I went to college and stuff, and then I got a job, and then I spent years thinking, every now and then, about writing – but I never did it. I thought I couldn’t. I thought I’d be rubbish and that, somehow, my life (quite ordinary and boringly sensible) wasn’t the kind of life that people who became writers ever had (bohemian, risky, plugged into the world of writing since birth… I thought).
I know now that I was really wrong, in lots of ways. But it took me until I was thirty-five to be brave enough to go on a course about writing poems, and another six years until I had a go at a play. That sometimes feels like a lot of wasted writing years – and mostly because I felt a bit stupid and not sure how or where to start.
So – my tips for writing aren’t going to be about having characters that are concrete, that you know and care about and don’t judge. They’re not going to be about how those characters need to want something and how your play needs to explore how they get it/don’t get it/ what gets in their way / how the journey changes things. And they’re not going to be about how Drama always happens in the present tense. All of those things are true and really important. But my tips, for what they’re worth, aren’t really tips at all – they’re more like memories, or observations. They’re a kicking around of some things I remember feeling when I first tried to write a play, and things I see and hear now, working with all kinds of people (in my job as Education Director at the theatre) - people who’re drawn to theatre but often feel daunted by it – not sure they’ll understand it, can be part of it, can do it …. whatever “it” may be.
I hope these notes help some of you to get started.
1. “I haven’t got a big idea, or a point I want to get across. I don’t feel I know anything…”
Well, that’s probably a good thing. If you want to bang on about something, you’d be better off writing a lecture or a manifesto. And if you think you have all the answers, then maybe become a politician rather than a playwright….I’d say good plays involve us through characters, their journeys and the interplay between them. Whilst we’re watching, we forget there’s a writer – we don’t hear ‘the writer’s voice’. Good plays leave the audience thinking; they raise more questions than they answer. Good plays deal in uncertainty and ambiguity; they say “oh, if only…” and “but on the other hand…”
2. “People who get plays put on always seem to be part of the theatre world. It’s all posh nobs in black polo necks. I feel like an outsider”
Lots of people seem to feel like this about getting their plays into a theatre, especially a big shiny theatre like the Royal Exchange. But they’re actually really friendly places, full of all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds. To give just a few examples, when Nick Leather won the first WRITE competition here, he was working in a bar. Simon Stephens got into writing when he was teaching in a comprehensive school. Shelagh Delaney worked as a shop assistant and an usherette and Robert Holman was a bus driver.
What often happens is that writers who really want to write get known in theatres because they keep at it, they keep trying to get people interested in their plays, and maybe get involved in workshops and find out about writers groups etc…Through doing this they get to learn about how theatre works, and theatres get to know them. Like anywhere you go that’s new – theatre can start out feeling strange, but as you spend time around it, it becomes as familiar as a favourite old pair of shoes.
3. “I don’t think anyone would be interested in the story I want to tell…”
At a guess I’d say 80% of the people who say or think this are female.
That’s not such a controversial thing to say; it’s generally accepted that women tend to be more self-effacing and cautious than men - that’s why women’s car insurance is so much cheaper. When it came to the shortlist for last time’s Bruntwood competition, 9 out of the 10 plays were by males. Now although we don’t know the gender of all the entrants (because the plays are entered anonymously) we don’t believe for a second that 9 out of 10 plays were by men because 9 out of 10 men are better writers. No. We feel sure it’s because so many more men entered. Mmmm.
It’s also probably true to say that many of the world’s most interesting and extraordinary people are the ones who think themselves uninteresting and ordinary (and it works the other way too…just think of some big-headed, egomaniac bores you know. Come one, we all know at least one and can think of hundreds of others).
So. Whatever your gender, write that ‘uninteresting story’. You might be surprised…..
4. “ I watch loads of films, but I never go to the theatre. Does that matter?”
Yes and no. No because this really isn’t a competition only for people already marinaded in theatre – and watching films can teach you a lot about story and structure. Yes because theatre is not the same as tv or film and if you’re going to write for theatre, you have to want to – you have to believe that theatre is the dog’s bollocks (can I say dog’s bollocks?). Imagine plays are furniture: theatre plays are tables and films are armchairs. You wouldn’t really expect to be able to make a table if you’d never in your life seen one, and if you didn’t have a good look at tables and how they’re made. And you wouldn’t expect to learn how to make a table by looking at armchairs…..
Theatres often receive scripts that read like tv or film. The writer just hasn’t taken on board what’s special and particular about writing for theatre.
So.
Go and watch plays. Read plays. (If you’re broke, try the library or sit on the floor in Waterstone’s Drama section). Think about the many differences between screen and stage...
And so on.
5. I’ve written a draft of a play and it’s awful – really boring. I think I’ll bin it.
DON'T... next page >
1. “I haven’t got a big idea, or a point I want to get across. I don’t feel I know anything…”
Well, that’s probably a good thing. If you want to bang on about something, you’d be better off writing a lecture or a manifesto. And if you think you have all the answers, then maybe become a politician rather than a playwright….I’d say good plays involve us through characters, their journeys and the interplay between them. Whilst we’re watching, we forget there’s a writer – we don’t hear ‘the writer’s voice’. Good plays leave the audience thinking; they raise more questions than they answer. Good plays deal in uncertainty and ambiguity; they say “oh, if only…” and “but on the other hand…”
2. “People who get plays put on always seem to be part of the theatre world. It’s all posh nobs in black polo necks. I feel like an outsider”
Lots of people seem to feel like this about getting their plays into a theatre, especially a big shiny theatre like the Royal Exchange. But they’re actually really friendly places, full of all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds. To give just a few examples, when Nick Leather won the first WRITE competition here, he was working in a bar. Simon Stephens got into writing when he was teaching in a comprehensive school. Shelagh Delaney worked as a shop assistant and an usherette and Robert Holman was a bus driver.
What often happens is that writers who really want to write get known in theatres because they keep at it, they keep trying to get people interested in their plays, and maybe get involved in workshops and find out about writers groups etc…Through doing this they get to learn about how theatre works, and theatres get to know them. Like anywhere you go that’s new – theatre can start out feeling strange, but as you spend time around it, it becomes as familiar as a favourite old pair of shoes.
3. “I don’t think anyone would be interested in the story I want to tell…”
At a guess I’d say 80% of the people who say or think this are female.
That’s not such a controversial thing to say; it’s generally accepted that women tend to be more self-effacing and cautious than men - that’s why women’s car insurance is so much cheaper. When it came to the shortlist for last time’s Bruntwood competition, 9 out of the 10 plays were by males. Now although we don’t know the gender of all the entrants (because the plays are entered anonymously) we don’t believe for a second that 9 out of 10 plays were by men because 9 out of 10 men are better writers. No. We feel sure it’s because so many more men entered. Mmmm.
It’s also probably true to say that many of the world’s most interesting and extraordinary people are the ones who think themselves uninteresting and ordinary (and it works the other way too…just think of some big-headed, egomaniac bores you know. Come one, we all know at least one and can think of hundreds of others).
So. Whatever your gender, write that ‘uninteresting story’. You might be surprised…..
4. “ I watch loads of films, but I never go to the theatre. Does that matter?”
Yes and no. No because this really isn’t a competition only for people already marinaded in theatre – and watching films can teach you a lot about story and structure. Yes because theatre is not the same as tv or film and if you’re going to write for theatre, you have to want to – you have to believe that theatre is the dog’s bollocks (can I say dog’s bollocks?). Imagine plays are furniture: theatre plays are tables and films are armchairs. You wouldn’t really expect to be able to make a table if you’d never in your life seen one, and if you didn’t have a good look at tables and how they’re made. And you wouldn’t expect to learn how to make a table by looking at armchairs…..
Theatres often receive scripts that read like tv or film. The writer just hasn’t taken on board what’s special and particular about writing for theatre.
So.
Go and watch plays. Read plays. (If you’re broke, try the library or sit on the floor in Waterstone’s Drama section). Think about the many differences between screen and stage...
And so on.
5. I’ve written a draft of a play and it’s awful – really boring. I think I’ll bin it.
DON'T... next page >