Hello All. In true McDowall fashion I am unfashionably twenty minutes early, so let’s crack on.

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Hi Rachel,

I used to have a very fixed process, but more and more I find the process is dictated by the play.
Here’s a potted history if that’s at all helpful:

From the age of sixteen right up to about the age of twenty, I did no planning whatsover.
I would just have the idea, the characters and head straight into it.
This meant that my plays often had quite a frenzied energy, but this energy would falter and sputter a bit (usually in the middle) and the plays would meander.

Then I decided I needed to take things a bit more seriously once I was working on the fringe.
This was the start of a period from then to maybe a year or so ago, when I would pretty rigorously plan out near enough everything.
I wasn’t absolutely precise with it, because I liked to leave some space for surprise and spontaneity, but everything was plotted out pretty carefully, beat for beat.

NOW, I’m sort of shifting a little bit.
I find that absolutely rigorously planning every single moment is sometimes a bit stifling if I’m trying to write something more free-associative and open, so maybe I’ll plan out the basics, then start writing sample dialogue, bits and bobs, start to get a feel for things.
BUT! If I’m writing something big, complicated, lots of characters, lots of scenes, locations, etc, it’s pretty much essential for me to plan very very rigorously.
I will sort out my characters, what they want, what’s stopping them, then sort out the structure- is this a two act? One act? Are there five scenes? Two hundred scenes?
Then I’ll take each scene maybe on a post-it or scrap of paper and plot out the basics – What’s at stake? Who wants what? What’s the conflict? Where is this happening?
Etc, etc.
Then I’ll be able to see the shape of the play in a big way, and also see each scene in a more intimate way.

Since you mentioned Pomona, the basic process for that was- Characters, then the structure, then being absolutely brutal with the core components of each scene, stripping everything away – pinning down what’s at stake and playing each scene like a miniature battle.
It was all written in that order, despite being in the “wrong order” chronologically.

That was a very meandering and unfocused answer – I should have planned it better.

Hi Kellie!

I think we all agree a play is a blueprint – it’s not a finished item. If you want to feel 100% finished when you finish writing, you should write a novel.

But – I do think the argument about this is a bit more specific than this. People are often debating who the, if you like, “primary artist” is. Or, how much say the director or anyone else should have over the script, making changes, twisting things around, etc, etc. Lots of people have very strong opinions on this both ways.

I don’t like the idea that there has to be an absolute either way.
It’s much more interesting for me as a writer to work in all kinds of different ways, and as an audience member sometimes I want to see weird wild and wonderful performance art, and sometimes I want to see absolute, precise naturalism.

I’ve written plays that are intentionally very open texts.
Plays with a non-specific number of characters of any gender, scenes you can do in any order, everything left up to the rehearsal process.
But I’ve also written plays that are very specific in various ways (admittedly in quite an old-fashioned way, some would say), that if you decided to deviate a long way from what’s specified, it’s likely the play wouldn’t stand up as well.
It’s important for me to keep trying different ways of working, to keep everything interesting for me and for the audience.

I think the answer is crafting your play well enough so that the core of it stays strong enough to withstand being experimented with – and also, crucially, making sure you’re on the same page with the right director.
It’s a collaborative process, and you will find much more exciting things about your play if you’re open to feedback and other ideas, and if you have a harmonious collaboration.
That’s the point of a rehearsal process.
Just be clear with your writing, and have clear lines of communication with the people you’ll be working with.

Hi May,

I have said Yes a few times to writing short plays (10/15/20 minutes).
When you get asked to do them “at a professional level” they’re often for special events or charity etc, so it’s often quite hard to say no.

So what this means is I will then write between 10-15 short plays for this event, spending vast amounts of time on something you’re probably doing for free or very little money, whilst neglecting other deadlines, and I’ll just start having pretty major-level anxiety attacks about the whole thing, before dashing something off in the middle of the night, sending it off and swearing to myself I’ll never do it again.

That’s a long way of saying I realised even though I CAN do short plays, there’s something about the form that absolutely crushes me.
I’m pretty brutal about saying no now.

I guess that’s an important thing to learn, that gets easier with time:
In the early days you might struggle to say no to things you don’t want to do, just because you’re grateful for all opportunities.
Sometimes it’s great to be thrown out your comfort zone in that way, and you’ll come up with something amazing.
But you also have to learn when saying Yes to something will be damaging.
You don’t ALWAYS have to do everything you’re asked to do.
Stick to your guns and your gut.

Hi Ella!

Starting points – who knows.
Sometimes the characters just wander into my head and start chatting.
Sometimes a song sparks something,
Sometimes a life event or similar.

My actual starting points process wise will be just toying around with it in my head for a bit, testing it out.
Then I’ll start writing scraps of dialogue on my phone, or in notebooks…

(QUICK TIP: Stephen King hates notebooks, says they’re a “great place to store bad ideas”. I got very hacked off with my notes recently and decided to start keeping my notes in the crappiest, cheapest, scruffiest notebooks possible. That way, whatever I wrote felt temporary, and I would judge it as such. I found it hard to open up my nice hardback notebook and look at what was in there and not see it as permanent. Get a crap notebook, scribble on it, deface it, stick stickers on it!)

…and then gradually the structure will form.
This “feels” like a ten scene play.
Or a two act play.
Or whatever.

Then I’ll feel like I’ll have these buckets (scenes) to pour my scraps of ideas into it, and that’s my starting point for planning properly.

Inspiration-wise, I will listen to certain songs repeatedly.
Each of my plays has a song linked to it in my head.
I’ll also read and watch anything that has similar themes, or a “feel” or whatever. e.g. If i’m writing a rainy play, I’m going to watch Blade Runner. (This is also to help me counteract accidentally retreading what others have done – e.g. If I’m writing about brothers, I have to read True West, because if I don’t, I will end up ripping it off even more, since it’s the ultimate play about brothers, and it’s drilled into my subconscious.)

I’ll also go on long walks round my neighbourhood, staring at my feet- somewhere in between the self-loathing and daydreaming, I might come up with something I wouldn’t have done sat at a desk.

Hi May,

That’s quite hard – you both love them all, and are disappointed by them all. A lot like children.

I would have to say Talk Show holds a special place in my heart, partly because I think, personality-wise, the main character ended up being closest to me, and also because the production at the Royal Court was hugely important for me, and a big life-learning time for various reasons good and bad.
It’s maybe not my favourite, but I’m particularly fond of certain things about it. I think it’s quite a good mix of funny/sad.

My least favourite? HOW DARE YOU. Just kidding.
I wrote a very big, long play a good few years ago which I think I really ballsed up. I was too angry about the subject matter, and too intent on writing A BIG SERIOUS PLAY ™, which are always very bad places to start from (in my experience). You need to write with love and out of enjoyment. That play didn’t have enough of either.
I won’t tell you the title because it was a bad one.

Quite often I know the ending from the very beginning.
This is usually a very strong place to write from – a play should always be barrelling along to a specific point. It gives you drive and determination.
The end should be “built into the beginning” as the saying goes.

I can’t think of a time when I didn’t have the ending at the beginning.

I think generally, I’ve always been alright at beginnings and endings, it’s the middles I struggle with sometimes.

You’re really drilling me on the bad times May!
That’s good though, they’re usually interesting moments.
Let me just dry my eyes before I answer –

I can’t think of one big moment where I fixed something and everything came together – writing tends to be built up of thousands and thousands of little realisations that eventually add up.
Here’s a few:
– Deciding to plan properly, deny myself writing any scenes until I was absolutely desperate to, packed with material ready to attack the play.
– Realising I was absolutely terrible at structure, reading 5 or 6 Edward Bond plays back to back and working out what I needed to fix and how.
– Realising I was not cool, never would be, and to stop trying to be on the page. Honesty and truth are captivating to all of us as audience members. Show offs are not.

Hi Louise,

Theatre is for fantastical ideas!
If your fantastical idea is the play you want to write, if your heart and drive and passion are on board, write it.
A theatre will never say to you “This isn’t commercial enough”.
If the play’s good, it’s good. Even if the characters are all centaurs with laser hand-cannons. (That’s my idea now, bagsy)

Theatre’s a forum for magic.
Read as widely as you can, find plays that have attempted the impossible and got there.
Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo by Rajiv Joseph is a recent play about death, war, and the meaning of life.
It has a talking ghost tiger as the main character.
Fantasy is often an invaluable tool for getting closer to the truth.

My plays have had time machines, ghosts, monsters and have on occasion been set in space.
I’m not trying to “write weird”, I just let my imagination take me where it needs to go.
Just make your mission the capital-T Truth, and if you need to go fantastical to get there, go there.

Hi Louise,

You just have to read as widely as possible.
Find plays that have done it.
I’d also say try not to be literal-minded with staging.
If you need two worlds, work out the basic rules, name them, put them as scene headings, then get on with the important job – characters, stakes, events, etc.
Leave space for collaboration. Build that world with a director, designer, composer, actors.

Hi Tiffany,

Glad you enjoyed Adventures!

Character names are tricky.
I do put quite a bit of thought into them; a Dave feels very different from a Danny, and so on.
Sometimes it’s tempting as well to give everyone flowery, show-off names.

Don’t spend too long on it though.
What defines me are my actions, not my name.

I would also say think about getting a big book of names! I have a book for surnames because I often find surnames very difficult – they’re so strange.
Saying that, I often don’t use it.
The right name, 9 times out of 10, will slot into place once I get to know the character.
It will also sound right coming out of the other characters’ mouths, too.

Hi Joshua.

lots of debt to a lot of people. HEre’s a few:

Playwrights:
Sam Shepard
Sarah Kane
Harold Pinter
Kenneth Lonergan
Thornton Wilder
Caryl Churchill
David Mamet

Novelists:
Richard Yates
Jane Austen
Cormac McCarthy
William Faulkner

Other:
Laurie Anderson
William Carlos Williams
Raymond Carver
PT Anderson
Spalding Gray
Dennis Potter
Fassbinder
Fellini
David Foster Wallace
Charles M. Schulz

Hi John,

Think I answered this kind of in an earlier one.
I don’t like the absolutes of the argument.
Sometimes I want to write a precise, one room chamber play set in the 19th century with curtain falls and all.
Sometimes I want to write a completely open stream of text with no characters all in a made up language.

I want to do everything, and I think everyone should experiment in all kinds of ways.
It keeps you fresh, and excited about the process.

Arthur Miller!

I know what you mean.
I generally try and get some distance – Leave the play alone for a week, two, a month!
And not just time-wise, get yourself some distance in your head too.
If you’ve just finished your first draft of your play about Italy, then stop watching and reading Italian films/books, listening to Italian music, etc.
Crack open your big russian book, or read a comic, listen to some heavy metal, go to a different art exhibition, etc.

Try and cleanse yourself of it a bit and then hopefully when you return to it, it’ll surprise you.

Hi Denise,

Character voice will come to me pretty quickly – I write quite rhythmically, so my characters will often be defined by how long or short their sentences are, how fast they talk, how often they go off track, lose their point, etc.
All of this stuff is really useful, but as you say, not if it’s just filling time and getting away from the whole point of the play.
I would also say I don’t really worry about my “theme” too much, I let that happen naturally.
I want to write human stories about human beings, which means the theme will appear organically.
A play I wrote called Brilliant Adventures was about two brothers trying to reconcile their childhood and their relationship with each other.
The “Themes” ended up being regret, loss, urban decay, poverty, north/south divide, etc, etc. But none of that was forced, it just came from me (hopefully) truthfully representing who those people were and what they wanted.
Take care of the big stuff and the rest will come on its own.

Hi Kate, I already gave a very rushed list of some folks I like a lot. I’ve pasted it below again.
I’d also add Chris Ware, Daniel Clowes, Andrei Tarkovsky and Alan Moore to that list to keep it fresh.

I never know what I want to see until I see it!
I’m always extremely sure of what I want, but in the end what I really want will catch me off guard.

Hi Ginni, that’s absolutely lovely, thank you so much!

Plays that I saw that I will always remember:
An Oak Tree by Tim Crouch I saw quite early on when I was at University. It convinced me you could be incredibly conceptual and incredibly moving at the same time. I thought it was a practically perfect fusion of head and heart.

Jerusalem by Jez Butterworth – I don’t think there’s much else to add to the mountain of praise this got, but it’s a rare time I saw a play twice. I thought it was absolutely wonderful, and would have entertained and engaged practically anyone. I grew up in a very similar rural place to the setting, and wished it had toured village halls. It would have been received rapturously up and down the country.

I saw Taylor Mac perform The Be(a)st of Taylor Mac at Edinburgh one year. He’s a performance artist who does all kinds of weird and wonderful things.
I cried throughout the entire show, even when it wasn’t sad. That was one of those shows that reminds you what’s possible just with one person on a stage in front a roomful of people. Electric.

Hi Katharine, big time thanks to you and your mum!

I try not to intentionally include personal stuff. That’s just because I’m so ridiculously over-sensitive I find it harder to actually write the play and be objective about what works and what doesn’t.
I really dislike it when you can tell a writer has written themselves in as the coolest character on stage.
Pretty much every single character I’ve ever written has just ended up being a version of myself, but this was always accidental, always disappointing when I realised I’d done it again, and the characters are always hopelessly awkward, reclusive and weird. Go figure…

Titles are hard. I’m a bit obsessed with them.
Brilliant Adventures is an almost intentionally bad title meant to conjure up childhood, fun, old adventure stories, etc. It also helps towards the clashing elements of that play.

I wish I could give you tips on titles, but I never know where they come from, and they usually come very early on.
Just don’t worry about it too much, focus on the play and maybe a phrase or a moment will stick out to you and reveal itself as the true title.

(Sorry, premature sign-off!)

Hi Tiffany,

Writer’s block is a bit of an illusion I think.
It does happen, but it shouldn’t have a special name given to it- That suggests there’s one solution.
If I’m struggling it could be because:
– My idea needs work
– I need to plan more
– My heart’s not in what I’m doing and I need to change
– I’m stressed out for some other reason
– I’m not sleeping enough
– Eating badly
– I’m sleeping too MUCH
– etc
– etc

If you get stuck, don’t imagine it’s WRITER’S BLOCK.
Just see it as what it is – a moment of difficulty.
Try and find a different way around it.
Skip ahead, skip back.
Plan more.
Read what you’ve got.
Leave it a few days.
Go for a walk.

All of this is easier said than done when you’re starting to freak out, but it will help you even less to consider Writer’s Block some kind of dragon-like monster that’s plaguing you.
You’re just a bit stuck.
Don’t stop.
Keep going!

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That’s me properly signing off now, thanks again, it’s been fun.
Hope it was useful.
Keep going with your writing and best of luck!

– Alistair.