The Beauty of a Play
Why should anyone read a theatre play? Why might anyone write it in the first place? And what do plays have that novels do not?
Often I get asked why I decided to become a playwright rather than a novelist. Truth be told, I began my writing journey as an author of prose. Later on, however, I started to develop a profound passion for stage plays, and became a huge producer and consumer of them. I have always valued the plot and characters of a story as its most pivotal part, but it was at this point that I also understood the sheer power of dialogue and spoken words.
What makes plays special?
If you were to give it a quick thought, the most obvious difference between a play and a novel would probably be a play’s apparent lack of third-person narrations or wordy descriptions. Playwrights provide much fewer cues as to what is happening on stage, when compared to the ability of novelists to not only describe in minute detail the course of action, but also paint in beautiful and evocative manners far away worlds, whimsical creatures or characters’ complex train of thoughts.
In a play, everything — personalities, intentions, backstories, moods — must come through dialogue. The very actions that drive the plot forward are… words, spoken or thought by the characters — at least in the majority. Soon after drafting my first drama, I realised that my readers would never get to know a character’s name, physical aspect or occupation, unless introduced by another character, mentioned in some casual remark, or worked in by an on-stage exploit of some kind.
With that in mind, it is not true that playwrights have fewer tools at their disposal than novelists do in order to provide descriptive clues about the story. Authors of theatrical pieces simply need be a bit more creative about it. For example, narrators can exist in plays, and they do. Sometimes, the most crucial parts of the plot are not only spoken, but they are even sung. Characters may speak out their inner thoughts just as freely as they would in books. When they do, time on the stage freezes, and none of the other characters are able to hear them, no matter how close they are in space or how fiery and loud the emotions being aired are.
From readers to theatregoers.
As a writer, this aspect of playwriting truly makes you conscious of what you decide to reveal to the audience and when. In fact, your work has two types of audiences at any point: the readers (who hold a print of your play) and the theatregoers, and the two will get radically different experiences.
Theatregoers benefit from a whole other aspect which brings theatrical pieces to life: staging, in all its majesty, depth and complexity. Performers are capable of crafting compelling and fully-rounded personas, portraying them in such exquisite ways, with their unique features, ticks, habits, tones of voice, movements, costumes, facial expressions and emotions. It is truly remarkable how much value they are able to add to a story by doing so. As a playwright, I focus on the story and the dialogues, trusting the actors to deliver them in the most effective, poignant and persuasive manner.
However, readers must not despair, for they possess something equally destructive — or rather, creative: their imagination. Because so little about a scene might be narrated by the author, readers of a play have a chance to experience a play in a way that is without equal. All the scenery-building, character-painting, action-unfolding and tone-setting work — which would normally be carried out by several production teams — will be up to them.
Here lies the challenge, and the reward.
As you, the reader, make your way through the acts of a play, scene after scene, you will have the arduous task of interpretation and portrayal of all roles and events. You take part in the creative process, giving birth to a version of the drama which is all but yours. Sure, novels get turned into films — and spectacular ones at that — but these very rarely match their printed sources the way plays do when staged.
I will not blame you if all of this sounds pretty laborious: it might well be at first. But I guarantee you that reading or writing a play will be worth every second of your time. In fact, due to the way theatrical pieces are written, the reader will always be given a little extra information about a scene or its characters than someone would if they were just spectating in a theatre.
For instance, you might be told that a character is hiding in the background before they actually get to reveal themselves. Or you might find out their names way ahead of any such information being spoken. In a way, this is a bit like being granted access to an almost “behind-the-scenes” experience of the story. Take it as a little token of gratitude from the playwright for being one of the people who were curious enough to pick up the original manuscript and determined enough to read it before (or after) the show.
My next play, The Hero of Mistpeak (Part One) is out next month.
