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 ^O'S AND FONT'S 
 For The PLAYWRIGHT 
 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 
 For the PLAYWRIGHT 
 
DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 for the PLAYWRIGHT 
 
 A Manual 
 
 For the Writer of Plays for 
 
 Amateurs 
 
 BY 
 
 FANNY GANNON 
 
 Author of 
 
 "Caselda Comes Home," "What's In a Name?" "The 
 
 Lady of the Opera House," "Writing and 
 
 Selling a Play"; co-author of 
 
 "The Mark of the Beast" 
 
 and "Meow!" 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 ^°rx^ 
 

 FOREWORD 
 
 c-^-^u^ 
 
 A MANUAL o£ this size can 
 only touch briefly on a few 
 points of a lar&e subject. Never- 
 theless it is hoped that it will 
 contain many valuable hints not 
 only for the novice in play- writ- 
 ing, but for the more experienced 
 writer desirous of preparing plays 
 for the amateur performer, who 
 is creating a demand all his own. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1922 
 <ByT 
 
 FANNY CANNON 
 
 OCT -« "1322 / 
 
 H. 
 
 ©CU686036' 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 FIRST PART 7 
 
 In General. 
 
 I. Amateur Theatricals 7 
 
 II. The Stage 9 
 
 Its Appearance. Scenery. Diagram. 
 Directions. 
 
 III. Professional and Amateur Plays 12 
 
 IV. The Story 13 
 
 Selection. The Unities. Conflict. Sub- 
 plots. Action. 
 
 V. Characters 14 
 
 Their types. Their names. 
 
 VI. The Scenario 16 
 
 VII. The Division into Acts 17 
 
 VIII. Visualizing 18 
 
 IX. Sequence 19 
 
 The Exposition. The Conditions Pre- 
 cedent. Withholding Information. 
 
 X. Sequence 22 
 
 Climax. Conclusion. Novelty. 
 
 XI. Reviewing the Scenario 23 
 
 Seen and Unseen Side of Story. Sit- 
 uations. "Planting." Irrelevancy. Dia- 
 logue. 
 
 SECOND PART 27 
 
 In Particular. 
 
 I. The Amateur Performer 27 
 
 Acting Ability. The Professional Di- 
 rector. The Amateur's Audience. Ex- 
 pense of Sets. Directions for Per- 
 formance. 
 
 5 
 
CONTENT S— Continued 
 
 II. The Story 30 
 
 Selection. Restrictions. Prohibited 
 Themes and Plots. Prohibited Scenes. 
 
 III. Changes of Scenery 32 
 
 IV. Cast of Characters 33 
 
 How Many. Type. 
 
 V. The Dialogue 34 
 
 VI. Soliloquy and Aside 37 
 
 VII. Types of Plays 38 
 
 Serious. Humorous. Tragedy. Drama. 
 Melodrama. 
 
 VIII. Comedy and Farce 40 
 
 IX. One Act Plays 41 
 
 X. Musical Comedy 42 
 
 XI. Minstrel Shows 42 
 
 XII. Vaudeville 43 
 
 Slap-stick. Monologues. Recitations. 
 "Tabs." 
 
 XIII. Suggestions for Writers 45 
 
 THIRD PART 47 
 
 And Lastly. 
 
 I. What to Do 47 
 
 II. What Not to Do 49 
 
 III. Just a Remark 51 
 
 IV. Preparation of MSS in General 51 
 
 V. Preparation of MSS for Publishers 54 
 
 VI. The Finished Play 56 
 
 Length. Language. 
 
 VII. Plagiarism 57 
 
 VIII. Study 58 
 
 IX. Definitions of Terms 59 
 
 Bibliography 65 
 
 6 
 
FIRST PART 
 
 IN GENERAL 
 
 I 
 
 In Harry Osborne's very able and comprehensive 
 little manual, "How to Stage a Play," published by 
 T. S. Denison & Company, he says there are four 
 things that go to make up a successful amateur pro- 
 duction, and the first of these is the play. I would 
 amend this to say, especially for amateur companies, 
 the first of these is the playwright. 
 
 The reason why the dramatist is of peculiar im- 
 portance where the amateur is concerned will be 
 readily understood. A company of professional 
 players has often lifted a bad play into some sem- 
 blance of success, certainly of amusement, through 
 skillful portrayal of the various roles. But, unless 
 trained to an almost professional state by long asso- 
 ciation in many plays and many public performances, 
 when a company of amateurs attempts a bad play 
 it only becomes worse. And a good play, if it be 
 beyond the powers of the average non-professional, 
 is ruined. 
 
 Amateur theatricals have been growing steadily 
 since the war. In fact it might almost be said that 
 the war gave them their greatest impetus. The de- 
 mand began to come in from cantonments for plays, 
 not only for the townspeople to act for the soldiers, 
 but chiefly for the soldiers to produce and act them- 
 selves. Different units of the Young Men's Christian 
 Association and similar organizations took plays 
 7 
 
DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 with them to France, and the Overseas Theatre 
 League called for more for its various companies in 
 the A. E. F. 
 
 Then, too, those at home in cities and towns remote 
 from New York, Chicago, and other big theatrical 
 centers were not visited as frequently as usual by 
 touring theatrical companies because of war condi- 
 tions. The cry had gone out to keep up the morale of 
 the country. So these various places began to put on 
 their own entertainments, for the Red Cross, for local 
 soldiers' benefits, and so on. It was found to be an ex- 
 cellent community method of reaching one's neigh- 
 bors, of bringing all sorts of people together, taking 
 them out of themselves during difficult periods ; in 
 short, it proved to be a modern and sophisticated 
 equivalent of the old-time dances and pageants on 
 the village green. Universities and schools, churches 
 and hospitals, community houses and prisons have 
 welcomed this healthy method of stimulating interest 
 and awakening certain moral and psychological 
 qualities. Naturally, having learned all this, a good 
 thing is not being given up, now that the war is 
 over ; on the contrary, it is more popular than ever. 
 
 Therefore, since the business of publishing plays 
 specifically intended for amateur abilities is steadily 
 increasing it becomes necessary for the playwright 
 desirous of meeting this demand to inform himself 
 not only of the usual matters which are an essential 
 part of every dramatist's equipment, but particularly 
 of those which concern the amateur and his abilities 
 and limitations. 
 
 There are several exhaustive books by well-known 
 authorities, with which a manual of this size could 
 not attempt to compete. Hence we will not try to 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 
 
 do more than merely touch on the most important 
 features of play-writing in general, as a guide and 
 introduction to further study and practice. 
 
 Do not think for one moment that the mere read- 
 ing, or even study, of any book on play-writing is 
 going to be more than a guide on how to begin. 
 To learn how to write plays, you must write plays, 
 and more plays, then re-write them, not once, but 
 many times. Play-writing is not easy. Do not let 
 any glib writer on the subject deceive you for a mo- 
 ment. Of course, as in all arts, practice and ex- 
 perience will help to bring the necessary knowledge of 
 technique. This knowledge of the way to begin and 
 to end, to plan and to write, finally becomes a part 
 of one's mental processes, and the writing becomes 
 easier, less beset with the many pitfalls into which 
 the novice strays so readily. For every play pro- 
 duced I suppose there are hundreds written. Not 
 all of these are by newcomers. Even the so-called 
 successful playwright not only has failures but also 
 has plays which managers do not accept. 
 
 So, do not think to find an infallible method for 
 success in this or any other book, no matter how ex- 
 haustive. You will be helped, advised, and guided 
 as far as may be, then you must go forward alone — 
 until you are ready for more advice and guidance 
 and healthy criticism. 
 
 II 
 
 One of the first things of which the embryo drama- 
 tist must inform himself is what I might term the 
 general geography of the stage. For the amateur 
 actor, this "stage" is often only a space at one end 
 of a parlor, without footlights, platform, scenery, 
 
10 DO'S AND DONTS 
 
 or curtain, and with only the most necessary acces- 
 sories of furniture and properties. In fact, experi- 
 enced players have sometimes given performances 
 under just such conditions, though not in this day, 
 it may be added, as members of a professional troupe, 
 but in some affair staged for charity in which these 
 players happened to be interested personally. The 
 fact of such conditions being possible explains why 
 in the catalogue of the play publisher there are 
 many short plays requiring few characters, little 
 scenery, and so on. Often those in which the scenery 
 is described are so written that it can be dispensed 
 with. In fact, two of the present writer's playlets 
 were written to order for just such occasions, to be 
 acted before women's clubs in hotel parlors, where all 
 of the disadvantages of no dressing-rooms in the 
 wings, no curtain or footlights, nothing but a low 
 platform and the needed chairs, had to be taken into 
 account in the play-writing. 
 
 Hence, in informing himself as to the methods of 
 the playwright, the author of plays for amateurs 
 need not feel it necessary to start with long plays 
 requiring scenery and costumes, but can begin by 
 learning to meet the demand for shorter plays which 
 the amateur will find easy to stage and act at short 
 notice and without too much preparation. 
 
 Nevertheless, whether the play is short or long, 
 acted in a barn during the summer vacation or in a 
 rented theatre at the height of the season, the 
 "stage" means that part of the room or enclosure on 
 which the performance is given, and its "layout" is 
 the same, as far as directions are concerned, in the 
 manuscript prepared by the author. 
 
 A knowledge of the physical stage, therefore, with 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 11 
 
 its limitations and possibilities is one of the first of 
 the mechanical or technical necessities of play- 
 writing. 
 
 To help this matter of the stage and its various 
 features, a series of extended definitions will be found 
 at the end of this manual, explaining those terms and 
 expressions used by the playwright in his manuscript 
 and general work. I also include a diagram. 
 
 Back Drop Exterior 
 
 ^oor|- 
 
 Footlights 
 Stage Boxed-in for Interior Setting 
 
 In the manuscript of a beginner who is unfamiliar 
 with the stage, the directions used had best be of the 
 simplest and most general variety, else only confu- 
 sion will result. Directions are always given from 
 the point of view of the actor, as, in the last analysis, 
 they are meant for him. His point of view is nat- 
 urally with relation to his audience; the right side 
 of the stage is the actor's right when facing front, 
 and so on. Exits and entrances, even on a stage 
 without scenery, are definitely fixed in each scene at 
 certain points, through doors and other openings, 
 whether imaginary or visible. Only in exteriors rep- 
 resenting open squares or tree spaces can the char- 
 acters enter from any point of the stage. The author 
 usually writes with a diagram of the stage, as set 
 
12 DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 
 for the act upon which he is working, where it can 
 be frequently consulted. 
 
 Ill 
 
 So much for the mechanical stage. Whatever sort 
 of play you write, you must not, dare not, ignore it. 
 If your play is for amateurs, its every stage quality 
 must be practical and simple. It is very rare indeed 
 for an amateur company to wish to spend large sums 
 of money in unusual or elaborate settings or lighting 
 effects. As we are now coming to the story, bear 
 this in mind in selecting and assembling your plot 
 and characters. 
 
 All of the rules governing the writing of plays 
 for Broadway are, or should be, observed in the con- 
 struction of a play for amateurs. It is true, as a 
 general thing, that the amateur plays to a less 
 critical audience than does the regular theatrical com- 
 pany. It is therefore also true that certain things 
 may be permitted in the play for amateurs which 
 would be too tame for the blase theatre-goer of 
 Broadway. Both of these truths exist because of the 
 general nature of the amateur company or club. The 
 reason is plain. It should be obvious to the least dis- 
 cerning that the amateur who gives only a small part 
 of his time and attention to acting cannot as a rule 
 compete with the man or woman whose life work it is. 
 The exception usually gives up his business and "goes 
 on the stage." 
 
 It is this fact and this alone which causes the dis- 
 tinction between the professional and amateur play. 
 There is no difference in technique; the difference 
 is to be found in the subject chosen and the acting 
 demands of the finished product. 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 13 
 
 IV 
 
 The first important thing in writing the play, any 
 play, is the story. Not all stories are suited to the 
 play form. Selection is therefore necessary. Plays 
 represent the dynamic phases of life, whether tragic 
 or humorous. Events must be of such a nature as 
 to reconcile us to their occurrence in the short period 
 of the performance. 
 
 Also the story must deal with one complete episode 
 or plot, with its beginning, its middle, and its end. 
 Everything in the play, every character, every situ- 
 ation, must deal with the development of one main 
 idea. This is the oft-mentioned Unity of Action. 
 
 At this point it might be well to refer to "The 
 Unities" as set forth by Aristotle in his famous laws 
 for writers. The three so-called Unities are the Unity 
 of Time, of Place, and of Action. In the old Greek 
 drama these were more or less rigidly adhered to. 
 Today in the play and the short story, the Unity 
 of Action remains as strict a rule as ever. The other 
 two Unities are somewhat more elastic; nevertheless, 
 the more nearly they are followed the stronger and 
 more closely knit will be the resulting work. The 
 Unity of Time insists that the episode must occur 
 within one day ; the Unity of Place, that it must 
 occur in one place, frequently in one room. 
 
 From the foregoing it will appear that the play- 
 form is at its best when compact. The story you 
 have selected should be of one plot, capable of being 
 fully told in the play-form as compactly as possible, 
 and of dramatic or humorous importance. 
 
 A stage-plot, as a general rule, involves some sort 
 of conflict, a "clash of wills" as someone has ex- 
 pressed it : This conflict or clash may be entirely 
 
14 DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 
 mental or psychological, as the struggle between two 
 natures in one person ; it may be moral, it may be 
 physical. The conflict need not be serious. It may 
 be of a wholly comedy aspect. But a story in which 
 everybody agreed with everybody else, being at the 
 same time entirely pleased with themselves, would not 
 lend itself to the play-form. The conflict need not 
 be intentional on the part of the characters. In fact 
 some of the most amusing plays have been written 
 around personalities utterly innocent of causing any 
 trouble at all. 
 
 Modern plays no longer permit of the so-called 
 sub-plot. This was a secondary and less important 
 story running along with the major episode. It was 
 often "comedy relief," injected into tragedies and 
 heavy drama to offset the sombre tone of the rest. 
 It is taboo today. If any change in tone or tempo 
 is required to relieve the tension, that relief is a defi- 
 nite part of the main theme. 
 
 Your story must have what we term "action. 5 * 
 This need not mean activity in the ordinary sense, 
 but that quality of "something doing" which may 
 be active, or present in the dialogue as an under- 
 current. It is the forward movement of the plot, 
 a constant sense that we are getting somewhere. 
 
 We will take up the various types of story suitable 
 for amateur performance when we come to deal more 
 particularly with that phase of the work. 
 
 Having reached the decision that your chosen 
 story is suitable, you have found yourself creating 
 certain characters as parts of its development. You 
 may add to these as you go along, or eliminate a 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 15 
 
 few; but people you must have, since your play 
 concerns people. In fiction the author speaks quite 
 as often as do his characters. In the play, the char- 
 acters alone do the talking. It is most important, 
 therefore, that they should be the right characters. 
 
 It is not at any time a question of just giving 
 "lines" and speeches to a number of people and tell- 
 ing your story through their questions and answers. 
 The people must be individuals, and what they say 
 must be in keeping with that individuality. You 
 can create any types or characters you choose, so 
 long as they are human and not automatons. But 
 once created, you must not let them do or say things 
 such people would find impossible to do or say. See 
 to it, since you are responsible, that you have just 
 enough people, and of just the right kind, to tell 
 your story for you. They must be consistent and 
 simple. That does not mean simple-minded, but 
 holding to one type or individuality throughout your 
 play. In life there are many seemingly complex and 
 uncertain personalities. These, however, are difficult 
 to use in a novice's play, so we keep to the most 
 noticeable and salient characteristics of the people 
 telling the story. Subtle characters, as a rule, are 
 exceedingly difficult to act, and therefore beyond the 
 ability of the average amateur player. 
 
 It will be only necessary to touch briefly on the 
 matter of the names you give them. Descriptive 
 nomenclature, as it is called, has gone into disuse; 
 for instance, such names as "Simon Skinflint," to 
 represent a miser, appear so infrequently as to be 
 noticeable when they do occur in some burlesque or 
 parody. In general, however, the stronger charac- 
 ters have names of dignity and strength, and vice 
 
16 DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 
 versa. Suppose "Lady Macbeth" had been named 
 "Flossie" ! Also remember that the names, or at 
 least part of them, are to be spoken aloud by other 
 people in the play. Do not call two characters by 
 names similar in sound, unless the resulting confusion 
 is intentional. Do not give any character a name 
 which will sound funny in a scene meant to be serious. 
 
 VI 
 
 Up to this point you are only realizing your story 
 in a general way. You have decided that it is of a 
 type which will make a play and have thought of the 
 characters which are part of it. It is at this stage 
 that the scenario begins to take shape. This is your 
 chart of procedure. 
 
 Not all playwrights use a detailed scenario from 
 which to work, but there must be some sort of plan, 
 or synopsis, or preliminary plotting out. You must 
 determine on certain stages of development. In 
 other words, you divide your plot into acts, decid- 
 ing on how much of your story can be told logically 
 in each one. The more you plan all this before you 
 begin to write, the easier the actual writing will be. 
 To start in and write your play without any idea 
 of where the dialogue will lead you will certainly 
 land you in difficulties, even if the result is not so 
 bad as to take you nowhere in particular. 
 
 On the other hand, do not be afraid to change 
 your plan at any stage of the writing, if you can 
 find a better way. There are no hard and fast rules 
 about this planning and plotting. But whatever 
 changes you make, keep them consistent throughout. 
 If in Act Two you find you can best tell your story 
 by changing what started out to be drama into a 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 17 
 
 farce, all right; farce let it be. Go back and over- 
 haul Act One to bring it into line with the farce idea. 
 
 VII 
 
 If you are planning a one-act play, a form pop- 
 ular with amateurs, be sure your story is one capable 
 of proper development in this shorter form. One- 
 act plays usually run, in acting time, from fifteen 
 to forty-five minutes. The longer one-act plays, as 
 a rule, are of slightly more dramatic or serious na- 
 ture. Half-an-hour is a usual favored length for a 
 one-act play. This necessitates a concise story, 
 quickly and compactly told, complete with its be- 
 ginning, its middle, and its end. 
 
 These three periods of development, used in all 
 plots, whether for short or long plays, point out 
 one reason why the three-act play is a more natural 
 division than the four- and five-act dramas. In any 
 case, the plays of more than three acts are almost al- 
 ways the more dramatic, or tragic, or melodramatic 
 writings, and are therefore not advisable for the 
 amateur. 
 
 There happen to have been a number of success- 
 ful plays for amateurs with but two acts. Such are 
 frequently given on programs where the play is only 
 part of the bill. It may be remarked that the two- 
 act play rarely appears on the professional stage 
 except in musical comedy. When it does, it is usually 
 a one-act play divided into two scenes to show the 
 passage of a certain length of time. The two-act 
 play is in relatively small demand. 
 
 But whether the play is in one or five acts, it can 
 be divided generally into those three steps of develop- 
 ment : The beginning, the middle, and the end ; or the 
 
18 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 exposition, the rise to the climax, and the working out 
 of this climax to the explanation or finale. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Let us pause here for a moment to formulate four 
 general rules of play-writing, all of them really self- 
 evident. First, know your medium, the stage, its 
 limitations, its possibilities, its appeal to both eye 
 and ear ; second, have a clear and single story to tell ; 
 third, be sure this story is of one plot and suitable 
 for the play-form ; and fourth, learn how to put 
 your story on the stage, how to turn your plot into 
 a play to be acted by living actors. 
 
 In dealing with the scenario or plan, we are be- 
 ginning to do something with Rule Four. And now a 
 valuable ingredient in your own make-up steps in. 
 This is the ability to visualize, to see your plot alive, 
 being acted out, your characters moving about, 
 speaking, laughing, crying. You can more than see 
 them, you can hear them, in that inner sight which 
 knows them real. You are not writing words, but 
 voicing people's thoughts, directing their actions, 
 making them smile or suffer — and you can see them 
 doing it all, at every stage of your work, once you 
 have brought them into existence. 
 
 This most necessary quality is not natural to 
 everyone, though it is safe to assume it to be de- 
 veloped in some degree in those who possess any gift 
 for writing. Most people can either acquire it or 
 enlarge what slight beginning they may have by 
 practice. You can start with memory. Recall some 
 scene you have just lived through, and "see" it as 
 you saw it then. Next, in your mind dramatize the 
 scene, enlarge on it, change it, always seeing the 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 19 
 
 people, the room and so on. You can develop this 
 idea in any direction you choose. The reason this 
 quality is necessary is that you must never forget 
 that your play must be practical, capable of being 
 acted, and you must be able to visualize it as being 
 acted all the time you are writing. If you do not 
 see and hear your people with every speech, every 
 line of business you set down, you are not going to 
 achieve a real play. 
 
 IX 
 
 The events in a play must be shown in their proper 
 order. This is not the place to discuss the unusual 
 or odd plays which seem to work backward, though, 
 in the last analysis, these, too, might be said to show 
 their events in what the author has determined is 
 their proper order. If certain events occur it must 
 be because certain other events preceded. They 
 grow out of each other in a sort of chain of events, 
 or rather, a sequence of events. We are therefore 
 taken step by step to the denouement. 
 
 The first stage of development, or the first set of 
 sequences, the beginning or exposition, is now our 
 subject of discussion. 
 
 The story you have in your mind has a beginning. 
 But the beginning as you have thought about it 
 may not be the beginning of the play. You must 
 decide on the point where you wish events to begin 
 to happen on the stage. There are things you can 
 actually show, there are others you can only briefly 
 touch on, and others are merely spoken about. There 
 are certain things which happened before the curtain 
 went up on that particular point of the story which 
 you have determined is the right place to start. 
 
20 DO'S AND DQN'T'S 
 
 These things occurring beforehand have been called 
 the "Conditions Precedent." They are the matters 
 about which we must learn something, but as they 
 occurred before the play began, we must learn of 
 them in the way the stage provides. 
 
 You are now putting into practice one of the 
 sternest rules of stage-craft. Not one phase of the 
 plot which cannot be mentioned or shown by your 
 actors can be part of your play. In fiction, you 
 can give long descriptions telling us all about who 
 the people are, where they came from, and why they 
 are here. In a play, the people themselves must 
 tell us that. On the program, you may tell us to a 
 limited extent who they are in the cast of char- 
 acters, and also the program can show time and lo- 
 cality. More than that is out of place in a manu- 
 script. You may write enough "business" to inspire 
 player and director to a better showing forth of 
 qualities and appearances. But your Conditions 
 Precedent, when necessary, must reach us solely 
 through the stage presentation. 
 
 Nor can the players talk about these earlier mat- 
 ters as if giving information to the audience. If 
 Mary's father has divorced his wife, and the wife has 
 married again before the play begins, and if the fact 
 of the divorce and remarriage is important to plot 
 development, then the "scandal" can be given as a 
 bit of gossip by one character who knows about it, 
 to someone new to the neighborhood. The informa- 
 tion must come at the right place and in a perfectly 
 natural manner. It is part of the exposition, since 
 a knowledge of it is necessary to our comprehension 
 of what is to follow. The skillful dramatist starts 
 us right off in the midst of things without our being 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 21 
 
 aware he is actually explaining who everybody is 
 and what are the causes which have brought them 
 together. A first act is nearly all exposition, though 
 the necessary information about things and people 
 may be scattered adroitly throughout the entire act 
 instead of being massed in the first few scenes. In 
 a one-act play, of course the exposition would be 
 brief and come at the very beginning. 
 
 However, sometimes plot development may require 
 the withholding of a certain piece of information as 
 to who somebody is. The right place for that in- 
 formation to enter the play is where it will produce 
 the best effect, whether it be the first act or the last. 
 
 At the same time, while the exposition is the 
 greater part of the first act, this same act must have 
 latent in it all that follows — a speech here, a bit of 
 business there, some trait of character, or the various 
 relationships — all these must hold the possibilities 
 for all which is to come later. That is why you have 
 brought them together. 
 
 In short, your plot begins to develop from the 
 first scene; the exposition has started the ball roll- 
 ing. The various characters are being introduced 
 to us in their proper order and in the right way. 
 That does not mean we have to see all of the char- 
 acters in Act One. But we often hear something 
 about people we are going to meet later. On the 
 other hand some characters have a certain mysterious 
 quality which is part of the plot, and these do not 
 appear until quite late in the play for purposes of 
 dramatic effect. Or a few minor characters may 
 have no reason for appearing until they are needed, 
 as the policeman who arrests the villain or the mes- 
 senger who brings on a telegram. 
 
22 DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 
 X 
 
 We are now working toward the climax. This 
 crisis is the place where everything seems tangled 
 up, the "tying of the knot," as Aristotle called it. 
 In comedy or farce it is the point where everybody 
 in the cast is bewildered or fooled, or where some 
 schemer has succeeded in "putting it over." What- 
 ever it is which has caused the crisis, humorous or 
 tragic, it is of such a nature that another act is 
 needed to untangle the knot, or explain the result, 
 or foil the villain, or whatever your conclusion is. 
 
 It will be seen from the foregoing that the conclu- 
 sion must be kept in mind from the beginning, I 
 have said it was latent in Act One. It must be a 
 possible conclusion to follow the dilemma or climax 
 you have built. This does not mean you, as author, 
 always know just exactly the manner in which you 
 will write your conclusion ; but it does mean that 
 you know what it is to be. While writing, you often 
 find a better way to do a thing than you had origi- 
 nally planned ; but you know, or should have an idea, 
 what you intend to have happen as the ending of 
 your plot. It will not be feasible to pursue this 
 subject further, else this will not be a manual but a 
 two-hundred page volume. When you really begin 
 to write you will also begin to understand. 
 
 In any case, while we are working toward this 
 climax, it must be of such a nature as to make for 
 a logical conclusion when the time comes. Yet it 
 must not be so simple that your conclusion is too 
 obvious or inevitable as to details. If it is a real 
 tangle or crisis, the working to the conclusion can be 
 just as interesting or even surprising as all that pre- 
 cedes. In general, the audience knows that it is "all 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 23 
 
 coming out right," and they know which characters 
 deserve to triumph, and so on, so there is not always 
 any great surprise. But, if lacking surprise, it must 
 satisfy as being a real and logical solution. 
 
 Before the actual solution or finale is reached, 
 that is, before the last few scenes of the play, it is 
 quite possible to give a new twist to events. Yet, 
 no matter how new or unexpected this novel turn of 
 affairs may be, it still must be contained as a possi- 
 bility in all that preceded it. 
 
 You cannot have a surprise finish which is out of 
 keeping with the characters or the plot or the sur- 
 roundings. You are not writing Greek drama which 
 permitted the sudden arrival of some friendly god 
 or goddess to set everything straight. It is all there 
 in your own plot, your own people. A surprise that 
 is only a surprise, injected for novelty and without 
 preparation, is not a part of good play-writing. 
 
 XI 
 
 We will suppose, now, that your plan is complete, 
 or perhaps even the first transcript of a play roughly 
 sketched in ; it will be well to review it throughout 
 with the idea of making sure of certain things. 
 
 Every play has its seen and its unseen side. Fic- 
 tion can relate in full; a play shows only certain 
 aspects. These must be the situations and circum- 
 stances capable of dramatic presentation. You may 
 have a good plot, but if you choose the wrong situa- 
 tions to express it, you will fail. The power of right 
 selection is a quality of the dramatic instinct. 
 
 The unseen side of a play is that part of it which 
 reaches us as information of past or present events 
 through the dialogue ; the seen side is, of course, the 
 
24 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 side we see acted before our eyes. Here, too, is where 
 the ability to visualize will be a potent guide. You 
 must get all of your story "over" to the audience 
 through the medium of the actors and their surround- 
 ings. Only those phases of it best suited to that 
 medium can be shown ; the rest must be adroitly con- 
 veyed to us through the dialogue. 
 
 Another point is concerned with the various situ- 
 ations. Properly arranged in sequence, each situa- 
 tion arises as the result of certain other matters 
 which have already occurred. Occasionally it is 
 necessary to "plant" a situation beforehand. By this 
 we mean any preliminary emphasis on information 
 or characterization. If certain things are going to 
 happen later, they may be of such a nature that we 
 need to be prepared for them, for some reason of 
 plot development. In preparing a MS. we may reach 
 a place where we find some new development or un- 
 expected turn creeping in. If this seems to us good 
 and useful to the plot, we may find it advisable to 
 go back over earlier scenes and "plant" the seed for 
 this newly evolved situation. You may "plant" for 
 later situations as you go along, or you may have 
 to go back over the MS. to do it ; it may be managed 
 by speeches here and there, by stage business, or by 
 other means of getting our minds ready for the situ- 
 ation toward which we are building. Not all situa- 
 tions need this planting; some must have it. 
 
 Just one illustration from a Broadway production 
 will help explain this matter to those who may not 
 see the point. The hero is trying to make the heroine 
 believe that a certain terrible experience through 
 which she has just passed is only a dream, as she 
 had collapsed into unconsciousness immediately and 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 25 
 
 had slept long under an opiate administered by the 
 physician. She is only partly convinced of the dream 
 idea, yet anxious to believe him. She suddenly re- 
 members that toward the end of the "dream" she 
 had telephoned for help. If there is a record of 
 such a call, it was not a dream but an actuality. She 
 rushes to the telephone, and is relieved to learn that 
 there was no such call listed, and her horrible plight 
 had been only an unusually vivid nightmare. A 
 friend of the hero, sharing in this plot to save her 
 reason, murmurs : "Thank God !" "And a fifty- 
 dollar bill!" answers the hero. No other explana- 
 tion is given ; but we do not need it. It had been 
 "planted" in the preceding act by the hero going to 
 the telephone and finding out from the hotel opera- 
 tor her hour for going off duty, and asking if he 
 may see her in regard to something to her advan- 
 tage. At the time we do not stop to think why he 
 does this ; things are moving too fast ; it may even 
 pass out of memory for the moment. But when we 
 see the heroine rush to the instrument to ask the 
 fatal question, we at once recall the hero's earlier 
 message and know exactly what he has done. It 
 saved an explanation at a point in the play when 
 explanations would have clogged the action. We 
 know that the operator has been bribed to take this 
 call off the list. The situation has been skillfully 
 planted. 
 
 There are times in any play when it becomes nec- 
 essary to slightly delay action, or withhold inform- 
 ation until some more dramatic point. In the at- 
 tempt to do this, do not make a frequent mistake 
 of novices, who, in their efforts to retard, wander off 
 into irrelevancy. 
 
26 DO'S AND DONTS 
 
 We have touched only briefly here and there on 
 the dialogue. If your characters are distinct and 
 human, real people, and your plan clear in your 
 mind, the dialogue is perhaps the easiest part of a 
 difficult job. It should be natural, colloquial, with 
 whatever of local color or dialect its place of action 
 may require. When the subject is taken up again 
 with particular regard to the amateur actor, other 
 suggestions will be made. 
 
SECOND PART 
 
 IN PARTICULAR 
 
 In dealing with the play intended for amateur 
 performance, a number of things must be taken into 
 consideration at the very beginning. Some of these 
 were touched on in the First Part, but they will be 
 mentioned again as the need arises, because some 
 emphasis is necessary. 
 
 The first thing to remember is the acting power 
 of an average amateur cast. I said "average." 
 Amateur talent ranges all the way from the awkward 
 beginner without one glimmer of histrionic impulse 
 to the experienced player in many public perform- 
 ances who is really ready to take the next step to 
 the professional stage, as many of them have done. 
 Some amateur clubs, especially those in large cities, 
 are well-organized, have kept together for a number 
 of seasons, and pay experienced directors. In fact, 
 practically none of the more pretentious perform- 
 ances by amateurs in New York are given without the 
 assistance of the professional director who becomes 
 also the coach for the less talented performers. 
 
 In the smaller cities and towns, too, there are 
 some dramatic clubs which, with amateur direction 
 as well as amateur talent, have achieved considerable 
 skill through constant work and careful study. 
 
 But the publisher must cater to the rank and file, 
 and the larger part of his clientele is the ordinary 
 amateur who likes to put on plays and act in them. 
 27 
 
28 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 As these plaj^s must be made amusing and interesting 
 for the audiences who come to see them and often 
 pay out perfectly good money to do so, the general 
 lack of real acting experience, except in a few cases, 
 must be accepted and considered. 
 
 Another consideration, aside from acting expe- 
 rience, is the financial end. Amateurs are not, like 
 the professional manager, investing money in their 
 own business enterprises. If much money must be 
 spent it comes out of the pockets of the players 
 themselves. Most performances are given for 
 charity, or benefits, or for some such purpose, since 
 the actor is not paid. Therefore expenses must be 
 met from the proceeds. It is not good business to 
 have the expenses so high that the net proceeds 
 amount to little or nothing. 
 
 For that reason, expense must be taken into ac- 
 count by the pla} r wright in preparing his story. Do 
 not call for elaborate structures requiring special 
 building, such as grand staircases, overhanging bal- 
 conies, trap-doors, and kindred accessories. On the 
 other hand, if you are familiar with stage possibili- 
 ties you can often suggest ways and means to "fake." 
 Some years ago, when the Irish Players first came 
 to the States, a great deal of praise was earned by 
 the effectiveness of some of their simplest sets. As 
 an instance, the sole furniture in "The Rising of the 
 Moon" was a barrel, with a "Reward" placard tacked 
 to it. The rest of the stage was hidden in mysterious 
 darkness. One strong light fell from the flies, repre- 
 senting moonlight. This struck the barrel and what- 
 ever figures came under its rays. The effect was of 
 a lonely wharf on the bank of the river : Our imagi- 
 nations had been kindled to make us believe it. 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 29 
 
 You recall in the First Part I said if you were inex- 
 perienced it was best to be general in your stage direc- 
 tions. That means that you had best not try to use 
 the technical and abbreviated directions which appear 
 in the professional manuscript. Y r ou can describe the 
 room as you have visualized it, saying "At the back," 
 or "In the rear," or "To the right," always remem- 
 bering it is the actor's right you mean. If your scene 
 has only one door or exit, after you have told us 
 where this is, you need only say : "Harold exits," or 
 "David enters." 
 
 Describe your people as you want them to look. 
 Tell us just what you want them to do, as well as what 
 they must say. If you will always keep at your elbow 
 for consultation a plot diagram of your stage, with 
 the doors and furniture arranged as you wish, this 
 matter of setting down the "business" will be simpler. 
 The stage director will need it as his "prompt-book." 
 
 Do not include instructions which cannot be fol- 
 lowed. I remember reading a manuscript recently in 
 which the business instruction read: "Having fin- 
 ished washing the dishes, Ruth enters." Neither 
 before nor after her entrance was anything said about 
 dishes, so the audience did not receive a hint as to 
 what she was doing, nor was it important. How 
 could she look as if she had finished the dishes when 
 we never knew she was cleaning them? 
 
 Do not use such abbreviations as "R 3" or "L 1." 
 These expressions date back to the days when scenery 
 was shoved on to the stage in grooves. The ab- 
 breviations mark definite positions well recognized 
 by the professional player, but of no use to the ama- 
 teur. 
 
30 DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 
 Business directions are always written in the pres- 
 ent tense. 
 
 II 
 
 Next we take up the story. The selection is not 
 as wide as for the professional stage, though there is 
 no fixed rule about it. And many of the restrictions 
 mentioned here hold for Broadway as well. 
 
 Let me say at once that though this manual is 
 dealing with plays for publication as contrasted with 
 those for the big theatres, it must be clearly under- 
 stood that the play meant solely for publication, to 
 be read and not acted, the so-called "closet-drama," 
 is not being considered at any point. The plays 
 under discussion in this manual are seeking a publisher 
 and through him, the actor, whether professional or 
 amateur. Though published, they are plays to be 
 acted. With that fact settled, there need be no mis- 
 understanding. 
 
 In writing for publication, it should be remembered 
 that the publisher hopes to keep on selling his plays 
 for years. Anything of ephemeral interest is natur- 
 ally not to be thought of. Questions of the moment, 
 passing fads, entirely local issues cannot be used. 
 Nor should political nor religious controversies be 
 brought in. That does not mean that you must not 
 write a play which has a politician or a minister as 
 characters, if there is humor or general interest in the 
 plot. But it must not be partisan nor controversial 
 in any way, or such as to give offense to those of 
 contrary opinions. 
 
 Do not use depressing themes, sickness, degeneracy, 
 immorality. Write of pleasant things, exciting 
 things ; you may even touch on pathetic tilings. But 
 you must remember that most of the people who get 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 31 
 
 up amateur theatricals are young people ; if they 
 should happen to want to play Maeterlinck's "Death 
 of Tintagile," which I very much doubt, they will 
 go straight to Maeterlinck. It will not do you any 
 good to try to write something similar. 
 
 Costume plays are not much in demand by ama- 
 teurs. An occasional Bible story for some church 
 affair, an historical play for some school, when scenery 
 and costumes are "faked" or home-made; these are 
 about all. Costumes are expensive to rent, and few 
 amateurs care to undertake it. 
 
 Do not select a story which will require a big "star" 
 part. Not only are few amateurs capable of carry- 
 ing a play, as is often the responsibility of the star, 
 but it does not allow of sufficient importance being 
 given to the other players. Amateurs like plays in 
 which most of the actors are important, so that all 
 may have something to do. This is one reason why 
 many of the biggest New York successes would be 
 absolutely hopeless for amateur companies. There 
 is nearly always a star part entailing great strain and 
 nervous reactions for one actor, and many of the 
 minor characters are too minor to interest amateurs. 
 Between ourselves, they do not interest professionals ; 
 but they are paid for it. And the butcher's bills must 
 be met. 
 
 It should be obvious from the foregoing that stories 
 must be avoided whose portrayal puts too great a 
 strain on the actor's qualifications. 
 
 The chief drawback with the amateur is his self- 
 consciousness, not only before an audience but even 
 at rehearsal. It is easier for him to lose some of this 
 attitude, or even make capital of it, in the plays 
 along comedy lines, than in a serious effort. There- 
 
32 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 fore comedies and farces are always in demand. If 
 plays are of the comedy-drama variety, that is, those 
 with serious portions, these points should be of short 
 duration. They can be serious, they should not be 
 tragic, and the "happy ending" is much the best for 
 all plays. 
 
 Emotional or "big acting" scenes should be very 
 few. My own experience as spectator at amateur 
 performances would cause me to say, there should be 
 none. But as there are clubs which have among their 
 members the occasional amateur of ability, use the 
 emotional scene if you must, but sparingly, I beg of 
 you. And do not let it be a scene of such importance 
 that the play stands or falls by it. 
 
 The same holds with love scenes. Unless the play 
 is being given on a real stage with all the distance 
 and illusion of footlights, grease paint and a dark- 
 ened auditorium, the amusement of an audience com- 
 posed of admiring relatives and friends at such a 
 scene is apt to be both audible and disconcerting, 
 even if the players themselves have entirely overcome 
 their self-consciousness. So I would suggest that the 
 love scenes, if necessary, and unless farcical in inten- 
 tion, be of the merest touch-and-go variety. 
 
 Ill 
 
 You divided your story into acts and sequences. 
 Here we meet with another restriction. You will 
 notice, by the way, that these various restrictions and 
 limitations are apt to make writing for amateurs a 
 rather exacting task. Though somewhat different, it 
 is not easier than work for the professional theatre. 
 The exception might be in the greater demand for 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 33 
 
 shorter plays and material. It sometimes takes a 
 few days' less work; that is all. 
 
 To change a stage-setting between the acts takes 
 time. In amateur theatricals it takes a good deal of 
 time. Therefore, one setting throughout the play is 
 best. There should never be more than two and both 
 should be simple. Do not have a change of scenery 
 during an act. It is done professionally, where stage- 
 hands are rehearsed and used to working quickly. 
 But it is not done often. Never is the word for the 
 amateur. If a change of costume is demanded for any 
 player during an act, see to it that there is enough 
 business and dialogue to give him or her time to make 
 the change. Amateurs are not as expert in making 
 rapid changes in clothing as are professional actors. 
 And even professionals must have time. 
 
 For preference, choose for your subject comedy 
 rather than pathos, humor rather than serious emo- 
 tion, joy rather than sorrow. 
 
 IV 
 
 Another point which attracts the amateur looking 
 for material is the cast of characters. How many, 
 and of what variety? As a general rule, it has been 
 found that the balanced cast appeals most: Four 
 men, four women, and so on. No one knows why, 
 unless in small coteries they like to flock in couples. 
 Whenever there is an excess of one sex over the other, 
 it should be feminine. Undoubtedly, there are more 
 women and girls who enjoy dressing up and acting 
 than there are men. A play with more men than 
 women has hardly a chance ; the exceptions might be 
 in the case of some male college, or similar outfit, in 
 which men play feminine parts. But as these vehicles 
 
34 DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 
 are often written by the boys themselves, the market 
 is not great. 
 
 So much for numbers. 
 
 In type, the preference should be for youthful char- 
 acters. If older types enter the play, they should 
 not be of too eccentric a variety, as the average young 
 amateur is hardly equal to the impersonation. Be- 
 sides, character make-up requires practice and skill. 
 Unless an expert is engaged to make up the faces of 
 the cast, as sometimes happens, the result is apt to 
 be bad. In the case of male characters, wigs and 
 beards help. With women, oddities in clothes and 
 hair-dressing make for characterization. If the play 
 is comedy, these effects should not be difficult. But 
 the use of grease paint for lines and shadows on the 
 face, in unaccustomed hands, is apt to be a messy and 
 spotty job. Of course, some clubs or communities are 
 able to call on more mature players. So there is no 
 actual insistence on an entire cast of juvenile roles. 
 
 The characters should be as true to ordinary life as 
 possible ; not one amateur in a thousand could give 
 an even passable performance of "Hyde" in "Dr. 
 Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," or of "Hedda" in "Hedda 
 Gabler." Such work should not be expected of them 
 by the writer for the amateur stage. 
 
 I said, in the First Part, that if the plan was clear 
 and the characters of distinct individuality in your 
 own mind, the writing of the dialogue was the easiest 
 part of a difficult job. Perhaps I would better have 
 said: The least difficult part of a never-easy job. 
 
 The dialogue in a play for amateurs must share 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 35 
 
 with the professional play a number of qualities. In 
 addition, there are the usual restrictions. 
 
 It must be as natural as possible, without being 
 rambling, prosy or incoherent. Though colloquial, 
 it must get us somewhere. It must not be ranting, 
 or didactic, or stilted. You are not writing a com- 
 position, but a play with lines to be spoken aloud. 
 
 If a character is of a pedantic type, the stilted lines 
 are all right for him; they become a part of charac- 
 terization. I am referring to the dialogue as a whole. 
 
 The sentences should be capable of easy rendering 
 aloud. They must not be too long or involved, unless 
 your obscurity is intentional at some point of the 
 play. 
 
 The words should always be such as the tongue 
 takes easily. Unwieldy words are as bad as unwieldy 
 sentences. 
 
 Remember the action is more important than the 
 talk, and, however witty or interesting it may be, do 
 not let the dialogue halt the action. 
 
 Lengthy speeches are especially out of place in the 
 amateur play. Even in the professional play they re- 
 quire skillful handling to avoid being tiresome. It is 
 usually possible to break up a speech which threatens 
 to be too long, by interruptions from others of 
 "business," or brief remarks, and so on. But a long 
 speech in which a player takes the center of the stage 
 and talks while the. others stand about and listen had 
 best be let severely alone. 
 
 Use slang if it helps a characterization, but in 
 moderation. It is a thing very easy to overdo. It 
 seems hardly necessary to caution against vulgarity 
 or profanity. They are absolutely not to be thought 
 of. 
 
36 DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 
 Remember that your dialogue is not a series of 
 questions and answers, after the fashion of the school 
 reader or the recitation book. That is not a play 
 and was never meant to be. 
 
 Do not introduce entirely irrelevant discussions 
 with no bearing on the plot, nor jokes nor puns which 
 do not concern us. Puns are bad at any stage ; that 
 is, for the legitimate play. Later we will speak of 
 the side-branches, where puns and irrelevant jokes 
 have their place. 
 
 At every stage of your dialogue writing, remember 
 that it is carrying forward the plot. Though seem- 
 ingly spontaneous, you are carefully planning it with 
 that one purpose in view. 
 
 It has been said there is a distinct preference for 
 comedy. This does not mean that every line spoken 
 must be comic, but that the action is of a comedy or 
 gay order. Nevertheless, since there is an occasional 
 touch of pathos, or even drama, allowable in the 
 play for amateurs, a few words will dispose of two 
 effects which must not be permitted to creep in. If 
 your story has been planned properly these effects 
 should not occur, because you have already been 
 warned against them. But sometimes while writing, 
 the temptation may be strong, so again the warning 
 is given. 
 
 Do not insert anywhere in the play a scene of ex- 
 treme emotional intensity. Not one amateur in hun- 
 dreds could manage it. The effect, in my experience, 
 is usually to produce laughter rather than thrills or 
 tears. The amateur cannot use such plays, nor is 
 the publisher looking for them. He may, in some 
 exceptional cases, publish a few in a whole catalogue 
 in which an occasional such scene occurs, because he 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 37 
 
 must cater to all of the public, and there are amateur 
 players here and there who are equal to the task and 
 are glad of an opportunity to display their talents. 
 
 The other forbidden effect is much more positive in 
 its inhibition. Scenes of passion are to be strictly 
 avoided. The reasons are too obvious to require 
 explanation. 
 
 Your play may require dialect. Learn something 
 about the kind you are going to use. Be sparing 
 of dialect parts until you have acquired some skill in 
 writing and characterization. 
 
 VI 
 
 Now for the "soliloquy" and "aside." In former 
 days these were continually used. There is no space 
 here to go into the reasons. In the modern drama, 
 they are used either not at all, or in a degree so slight 
 as hardly to be recognized as the same thing. 
 
 In the old days, the "aside" was a remark addressed 
 either directly to the audience as in comedy, or to the 
 empty air ; it was a remark not meant to be heard by 
 the other characters, whose presence was thus entirely 
 ignored. Today, one character may address a remark 
 to another which is not meant to be overheard by 
 others present on the stage. This speech, in the play 
 manuscript, would be prefaced thus: "John (aside 
 to Tom)," and the remark would follow. 
 
 The nearest approach to the old-fashioned "aside" 
 would be some audible exclamation such as any ordi- 
 nary person might speak aloud under stress. If you 
 or I in our own homes were faced with some sudden 
 catastrophe at a time when thought was difficult, we 
 would be quite likely to say aloud : "What am I going 
 to do !" or something similar, though utterly alone at 
 
38 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 the moment. If a thing is natural to the occasion, in 
 real life, it can be used in a play. 
 
 A soliloquy is longer. It is the sort of thing in- 
 jected into the older plays to let us know what 
 thoughts were passing through the speaker's mind. 
 Today we prefer to see the actor think, through the 
 medium of his expression and movements. Hamlet's 
 soliloquy is a case in point. Here is a character fol- 
 lowing a train of thought through a long speech. It 
 proves one reason why Shakespeare's form is not a 
 good model for the writer of modern plays. His plot- 
 building and presentation are supreme; he was an 
 actor, of and in the theatre. Had not the soliloquy 
 been a fashion of his day and many days thereafter, 
 make no doubt that he would have written his master- 
 pieces without it. 
 
 VII 
 
 Plays are divided into two great classes : Tragedy 
 and Comedy. There all real classification ends. The 
 divisions are of the haziest variety. One class runs 
 into another in a way defying the pigeon-hole. At 
 one end would be pure tragedy such as the "Medea" 
 of Euripides; at the other end would be pure farce. 
 Pure tragedy rarely gets into the modern play. When 
 it does it is usually of foreign importation. 
 
 We will therefore have to attempt another division : 
 Serious and Humorous. This is better, but it still 
 does not get us very far, for the serious plays have 
 comedy elements and happy endings, while the humor- 
 ous plays often have pathetic scenes. 
 
 In the serious section, however, we can include 
 tragedy, drama, and melodrama. In the humorous 
 section, comedy and farce. Then there are the 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 39 
 
 hybrids : Comedy-drama, farce-comedy, tragi-comedy 
 (whatever that is), and so on. 
 
 Also we have the offshoots of the humorous ele- 
 ments: Musical comedy, vaudeville, minstrel shows, 
 with monologues, skits, slap-stick, and all the rest. 
 
 Nor must we forget the one-act play, the chief 
 standby of the amateur, which may belong in any of 
 the foregoing classifications. Let us see what we can 
 do with them. 
 
 We can dismiss quickly the tragic section as en- 
 tirely unsuited to the amateur performer, and there- 
 fore of no use to the publisher of such plays. 
 
 With a few exceptions we could say almost the 
 same of drama, using the word in its narrow sense 
 rather than its larger interpretation ; for "drama" is 
 the word applied to the whole subject of compositions 
 meant to be acted. In its more limited meaning play- 
 wrights and actors use it to classify the play of se- 
 rious purpose, of mental conflict, of problems, or 
 emotional crises. Since it may have a happy ending 
 and frequent comedy touches, it is not tragedy. But 
 it is not the class of play the wise amateur chooses for 
 an entertainment. 
 
 Melodrama may be defined best by lifting the 
 definition from the dictionary; it covers the subject: 
 It is "a drama with a romantic story or plot and 
 startling situations and incidents." Also, most melo- 
 dramas have a great deal of the comedy element, 
 which is knit closely into the story. It usually in- 
 volves crime of some sort, with a villain, and often a 
 "villainess," as part of the ingredients. 
 
 There are several reasons why it must be put in 
 the undesirable column. It is, as a rule, an expensive 
 type of play to produce, because of changes in 
 
40 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 scenery, lighting effects, and length. A melodrama 
 usually runs five acts, seldom less than four. The 
 cast generally runs to more men than women. Last, 
 it requires skill to keep it within the limits of plausi- 
 bility, both in regard to the writing and the acting. 
 Melodrama has a strange affinity for farce; so much 
 so, that the term "melodramatic" contains within it 
 something of bombast and pretense. Bombast and 
 pretension can be excellent farce material at times. 
 So it will be seen while drama and melodrama can 
 be used by amateurs, they rarely are. 
 
 VIII 
 
 A comedy is a play of life's less strenuous moods. 
 Though it may contain touches of pathos, the laugh is 
 never far from the tear. It is, perhaps, more nearly 
 human and "every-day" that any other class. It has 
 its gay moments, and its serious ones ; the fun may 
 range all the way from the line or situation eliciting 
 the quiet chuckle to those provoking the roar of 
 laughter. It always ends happily. 
 
 The comedy-drama is a combination of the fore- 
 going with the more complex situations of drama. 
 
 Needless to say comedy is a frequent choice of the 
 amateur looking for material, and he gets both 
 profit and enjoyment from it. 
 
 When we come to farce we take up a play-form dif- 
 ficult both to write and to act. Yet since it is a form 
 popular with amateur players, it is well worth study 
 and work. Though difficult to act, it has certain ad- 
 vantages for the player. The frequent absurdity of 
 lines and situations helps to gloss over much awkward- 
 ness, and helps eliminate that bete-noire of the 
 amateur, self-consciousness. On the other hand, its 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 41 
 
 acting difficulties lie in the necessity for frequent and 
 careful rehearsing and the need for perfect team- 
 work, with quick action, no waits, no delay in taking 
 up cues, no slackening in the apparent spontaneity of 
 the whole. 
 
 Farce is distinguished from comedy in that it is 
 dominated by its situations rather than its charac- 
 ters. In true farce, the people are all more or less 
 the victims of circumstances. Misunderstandings are 
 rife throughout, and everybody is most uncomfortable 
 and unhappy. Why is it funny, then? Because the 
 situations are exaggerated, the circumstances gro- 
 tesque and absurd. Nothing really tragic is involved, 
 and at the end everybody is perfectly innocent and 
 happy again. Farce, more than any other play-form, 
 follows closely all of the three Unities. 
 
 IX 
 
 With the one-act play, we run the entire gamut of 
 the drama. It can be anything from tragedy to 
 farce. Therefore the same restrictions hold as in the 
 longer play, when w r riting for the amateur. 
 
 As the acting-time of this form is of short duration, 
 the story must be one which can be clearly told in 
 that time. It must begin at once, require little ex- 
 position, get to its climax quickly and terminate at 
 just the right point. Naturally the story cannot be 
 one requiring gradual development. The fewer char- 
 acters you use the better. A frequent number for the 
 one-act play is two persons. But in the play for 
 amateurs it is not necessary to insist on the small cast 
 for reasons of expense, as would be the case when each 
 person must receive a salary. 
 
42 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 X 
 
 Musical comedy manuscripts, unless written by au- 
 thors who are thoroughly familiar with amateur pro- 
 ducing requirements and limitations, are foredoomed 
 to rejection. 
 
 The average writer pictures a musical comedy as 
 rich in scenic and costume investiture, and devises a 
 play which calls for lavish staging. This is all right 
 for the professional manager, who may spend thou- 
 sands of dollars in producing his show. But for 
 amateurs the musical comedy, as well as the non- 
 musical play, must be the kind that can be staged with 
 utmost economy as to scenery and costumes. 
 
 Moreover, a show that requires a special musical 
 score is very costly to publish and the market for 
 it is relatively small. A publisher is not likely to 
 invest heavily in a book that promises to be a 
 slow seller, no matter how excellent the play itself 
 may be. 
 
 If you are determined to write a musical comedy 
 for amateurs, your best course is to place it in a con- 
 ventional scene with everyday costumes, and make the 
 story complete without the musical numbers, suggest- 
 ing merely the types of songs to be interpolated that 
 will be adequate and suited to the story. 
 
 XI 
 
 The minstrel show is an exceedingly popular form 
 of amateur entertainment. In the ordinary sense, 
 however, minstrel shows are not "written," they are 
 put together. 
 
 The usual minstrel show is divided into three parts ; 
 a first-part, made up of chorus and end-men, with 
 songs, jokes, and cross-fire dialogue; an olio, which 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 43 
 
 is something akin to a short vaudeville show, recita- 
 tions, skits, tricks, specialties of various kinds, what- 
 ever local talent affords; and an afterpiece, which is 
 usually a rollicking farce, as funny and quick-moving 
 as possible. 
 
 All that a publisher would be likely to be interested 
 in, therefore, would be afterpieces, some brisk skits, 
 and perhaps a collection of good cross-fire dialogue 
 for the end-men, jokes, and "gags." If any playlets 
 are used in the olio, they are farces, and need not 
 have been especially written for minstrel shows. 
 
 In a successful minstrel show the jokes and dialogue 
 must be up to the minute. Jokes taken from books 
 and papers run the risk of being stale. Therefore, a 
 collection of jokes and cross-fire dialogue should be 
 as original as the writer can make it. "Cross-fire," 
 it may be stated, is the dialogue between interlocutor 
 and end-men. 
 
 The best chance for the writer is to devote himself 
 to the afterpiece, the skits and farces, suggesting 
 their suitability for minstrel shows. Most of these 
 afterpieces are blackface, and are therefore written 
 in "coon" dialect, as known to the stage. 
 
 The skits are very short, made-up of quick ques- 
 tion-and-answer dialogue, and are for two people. 
 These usually are a "straight" part, or "feeder," and 
 a comedian. 
 
 XII 
 
 In touching on vaudeville at this point, it may seem 
 that we are wandering aside from the expressed inten- 
 tion of dealing with the writer of plays for amateurs, 
 since vaudeville is a professional milieu. But "there's 
 a reason," or rather two — one for the amateur actor, 
 and one for the author. 
 
44 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 The amateur often likes the type of "act" used in 
 vaudeville, especially in minstrel shows, and fits it to 
 his own uses very well. The author, finding writing 
 for professional vaudeville, under the present system 
 of leasing and selling "acts," most unsatisfactory, 
 unless he has a reputation big enough to warrant his 
 demanding his own terms, can still write such acts for 
 a publisher. 
 
 The popular type for amateurs is clean burlesque, 
 or brisk and vivacious farce. It is short — say from 
 fifteen to twenty minutes. It may have two or more 
 characters. For amateurs the number is not so 
 limited as in the "profession," as there is no ques- 
 tion of salary involved. It is usually of a somewhat 
 more sophisticated type than the one-act farce or 
 comedy used at church or parlor entertainments. But, 
 for amateurs especially, it must not step over the line 
 into vulgarity, and the faintest hint of salacity kills 
 it with the publisher. 
 
 "Slap-stick" farce is of a rougher quality than 
 the preceding, and is more suited to be played entire- 
 ly by men. It is apt to be of a rough-and-tumble 
 variety, and perhaps is not so easy a type for the 
 amateur actor to carry off well. 
 
 Monologues for vaudeville, and for similar places in 
 amateur shows, are of two types. The more artistic 
 arrangement is one in which the actor appears to be 
 carrying on a conversation with an invisible listener, 
 either over the telephone, or down a dumb-waiter, or 
 the next room, or even right at hand. The second 
 type is a favorite with the skilled monologist in vaude- 
 ville, but is not so easy for the amateur. The speaker 
 directly talks to the audience. He is not making a 
 speech in the ordinary sense, but he is telling them 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 45 
 
 things about himself or apparently anything which 
 comes into his head. The fun depends to an enormous 
 extent on his own personality and the intimacy he 
 establishes with his audience. Beatrice Herf ord comes 
 to mind as a fine example of the first type, and Will 
 Rogers as a successful exponent of the second. 
 
 The "recitation" is not properly a monologue, for 
 the performer is not "talking" but "reading" or 
 reciting selections. A good recitation is always popu- 
 lar, and books of selected poems and other material 
 are occasionally brought out by publishers. 
 
 The "tab" or tabloid play is another form used in 
 vaudeville. Its expense depends on its type. The 
 tabloid drama is sometimes a condensed version of 
 some longer play. Or it is a musical comedy con- 
 densed to vaudeville length. In any case, the idea of 
 the "tab" is compression and condensation. 
 
 XIII 
 
 All of this Second Part will show you that the 
 writer of amateur material has a wide range, in spite 
 of the restrictions and limitations enforced by the 
 nature of his exponents. 
 
 One of the best suggestions I can make to the be- 
 ginner in this field is to send to any of the reputable 
 publishers of such material for a catalogue. There 
 is no surer way of discovering the type and scope of 
 the plays wanted. The reading of the most success- 
 ful plays along the chosen type will add immeasurably 
 to the particular knowledge necessary. 
 
 Remember that though the amateur may not be a 
 Broadway actor as far as his histrionic abilities go, 
 in many cases, especially in the larger cities, he 
 knows something about plays. The publisher is not 
 
46 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 going to hand him second-rate material with a view 
 to fooling him. There is a difference between the 
 professional and amateur play. But — you cannot 
 write one unless you are able to write the other. 
 
THIRD PART 
 
 AND LASTLY 
 
 Suppose, now, for the sake of review, we run over 
 a brief list of the things to do, and things not to do. 
 Thus: 
 
 DO 
 
 1. Learn something about the theatre, the stage 
 and acting. It is as necessary as familiarizing your- 
 self with the mechanism of your car if you expect to 
 drive it properly. 
 
 2. Remember the usual lack of trained acting 
 ability and experience in the average amateur per- 
 former. Keep story and characters within the range 
 of his powers. 
 
 3. Remember that the story of your play must be 
 of a single episode or plot. 
 
 4. Be sure your story is capable of development 
 in the play-form. Many a good story is spoiled by 
 being told through the wrong medium : Fiction, when 
 it should have been a play; a play, when it needed 
 the slower development of fiction. 
 
 5. Remember that your story must have "action." 
 Keep it moving forward steadily. 
 
 6. Remember, also, that it must entail some form 
 of conflict, mental, moral, or physical, serious or 
 humorous. 
 
 7. Learn to visualize your play as being acted. 
 "See" its people and setting. 
 
 47 
 
48 DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 
 8. Use characters suitable to the story and the ac- 
 tion. They should be as alive to you as people you 
 have met. 
 
 9. Be careful of the names you give your charac- 
 ters. "Mary" is dignified ; "Mollie" is a coquette. 
 
 10. Arrange for the sequence of the episodes of 
 the play. These sequences must develop naturally 
 and logically. 
 
 11. Decide at which point of your story the actual 
 play is to begin. 
 
 12. Select the right points of your plot for visible 
 presentation. 
 
 13. Make your conclusion logical. 
 
 14. Write business instructions clearly and care- 
 fully. 
 
 15. Always write business in the present tense. 
 
 16. Choose comedy in preference to serious ma- 
 terial. 
 
 17. Use more women than men, or else an evenly 
 balanced cast ; the exceptions would be minstrel shows 
 and similar performances. 
 
 18. Use youthful characters as much as possible. 
 
 19. Write natural, colloquial dialogue. 
 
 20. Write sentences which are easy to speak 
 aloud. 
 
 21. Use slang in moderation, and only when nec- 
 essary for characterization. 
 
 22. Be sure that the dialogue of each person in 
 the play is characteristic of that person. 
 
 23. Tie up all loose ends. 
 
 You see, there are twenty-three Do's, which, to- 
 gether with the first two parts of this manual, ought 
 to be of some little constructive assistance. 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 49 
 
 II 
 
 Now, let us try some of things which are inadvisable 
 or even prohibited in the play for the amateur. 
 
 DON'T 
 
 1. Use stories so simple that they are over before 
 they begin. 
 
 2. Use sub-plots. They not only interrupt the 
 action of the real plot, but are out of date. "It isn't 
 being done." 
 
 S. Use characters too subtle and complex for the 
 average amateur to portray ; nor very unusual types 
 of people. 
 
 4. Use "descriptive nomenclature." "Mr. Money- 
 bags" is passe, and "I. M. Rich" belongs to burlesque 
 and the joke-book. 
 
 5. Start to write your play without some sort of 
 pre-arranged plan. 
 
 6. Put anything into your play manuscript which 
 cannot be shown by the actors or the stage-setting, 
 except such matters as may legitimately appear on the 
 printed program of the play, when produced. 
 
 7. Have a surprise finish out of keeping with the 
 plot and its development, just for the sake of a 
 "punch." It is a trick which will defeat its own ends. 
 
 8. Write plays involving expensive productions. 
 ' The usual amateur company is looking for amuse- 
 ment, not debts. 
 
 9. Give your characters business directions hu- 
 manly impossible to follow. 
 
 10. Write plays around passing fads, partisan 
 politics, religious discussions, or purely local issues. 
 
 11. Use depressing themes, sickness, decadence, 
 immorality. 
 
50 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 12. Write "star" parts or long plays with only 
 one actor of importance. With amateurs, the whole 
 outfit is important. 
 
 13. Use big emotional scenes, lengthy or pas- 
 sionate love-scenes. 
 
 14. Require more than two sets of scenery. One 
 is best. 
 
 15. Indicate any rapid change of scenery during 
 one act. 
 
 16. Provide for any change of costume during an 
 act without writing enough dialogue and business to 
 give time for the change to be made. 
 
 17. Use characters requiring difficult make-up. 
 
 18. Write didactic or "high-flown" speeches for 
 every-day people. Nobody talks that way, not even 
 bad actors. 
 
 19. Use unwieldy words or sentences. They trip 
 up the unwary tongue and cause confusion. 
 
 20. Give a character speeches too long to be 
 rendered easily and naturally. 
 
 21. Make use of profanity or vulgarity in any 
 form, in any part of the play, in any kind of a play. 
 
 22. Introduce irrelevant jokes or discussions into 
 legitimate plays. 
 
 23. Use soliloquies or asides. They are distinctly 
 back numbers in modern play-writing. 
 
 24. Let your characters talk exactly alike. Very 
 few people do, unless they are imitators. 
 
 25. Write of ancient times or exotic lands, re- 
 quiring elaborate special costumes. 
 
 26. Take your plot from any book, story, play 
 or movie. 
 
 27. Leave us at the end asking what it all means. 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 51 
 
 III 
 
 When you have digested the first two parts, and 
 the preceding Do's and Don't's, and all of the other 
 things you ought to read and study and write before 
 your play is ready for its final transcript, we can 
 come to the condition of the manuscript you send to 
 the publisher. 
 
 IV 
 
 There are a few slight differences in the prepara- 
 tion of a play MS. intended to be published, and one 
 meant for the professional stage. The former has 
 to reach the printer in such shape that he can readily 
 set it up in type. The latter goes into the hands 
 of a stage-director who uses it as a prompt-book. 
 Also, "parts" are copied from it by stenographers 
 who specialize in that kind of work. Therefore, cer- 
 tain things must stand out more clearly than either 
 the printer or the amateur finds necessary. 
 
 There are several matters which are identical in 
 both, and those we will take up first. 
 
 Use the typewriter. If you are going to do much 
 writing, it will pay you in the end to rent a machine 
 and learn to use it. In the larger cities there are 
 always to be found typists who will copy the material 
 for you. If your MS. is written clearly and in just 
 the right form, your typist should be instructed to 
 copy the form exactly. If a typewriter is absolutely 
 unavailable, then use the clearest longhand of which 
 you are capable. Publishers are too busy to wade 
 through badly written, slovenly manuscripts. 
 
 Write on only one side of the paper. Everyone 
 ought to know that by this time, but one occasionally 
 runs across the exception who never heard it before. 
 
52 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 Use good paper. The sort of paper known as 
 onion-skin is not permissible in MSS., as it is par- 
 tially transparent. Flimsy paper is easily torn. The 
 best size for this purpose is 8% by 11, or there- 
 abouts. 
 
 Use black or very dark ink. If on the typewriter, 
 use a new black record ribbon. 
 
 Make carbon copies of your MS., but don't send 
 one of the carbons to the publisher, unless you have 
 used a good carbon paper which copies a clean, clear 
 black. 
 
 Leave a margin at the left side. Also, a narrower 
 margin along the right edge is desirable. 
 
 Number every page, at center top or upper right- 
 hand corner. 
 
 Put the name of the character speaking before 
 every speech. The position of the name varies. In the 
 longer and more important plays, it may be found 
 written above the speech at the center of the page. 
 This is the preferred position for the professional 
 MS., as it sets off the speech and the character speak- 
 ing it, making it easier for both director and typist 
 to find. In shorter plays and "acts," it may be 
 placed at the left and beginning of each speech. If 
 typed, the name is written all in capitals. If hand- 
 written, underscore it conspicuously. 
 
 Every play must be prefaced by a complete list of 
 characters. Every character appearing, from the 
 most important to the least, must find place in this 
 list. 
 
 Follow this with an act and scene synopsis. That 
 is, give time and place of each act. 
 
 Begin each act with a description of the setting 
 of that act, the furniture and all accessories, together 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 53 
 
 with the general impression to be conveyed by the 
 surroundings. 
 
 Punctuate and capitalize properly. Use the dic- 
 tionary freely for spelling. 
 
 See that your name and address are given in full 
 on the first page of the MS. Also, some writers put 
 the title of the play on every single page of the MS., 
 in the upper right-hand corner. This avoids loss if 
 the pages happen to become separated. 
 
 Never roll a manuscript. To do so screams aloud 
 your complete innocence of any experience what- 
 soever. Send it flat. If it is a short skit of only a 
 few pages it can be sent folded, in a long envelope. 
 If it is a long play, fasten it together and send it 
 unfolded, properly wrapped against damage in 
 transit. 
 
 The MS. may be sent by mail or express. See that 
 it is fully prepaid. Also, provide for its return, either 
 by enclosing stamps or having it sent to you by ex- 
 press collect. If a long manuscript, express is cheaper, 
 though a little slower. Manuscripts must be sent 
 sealed as first-class mail. 
 
 All of the foregoing are perfectly good rules to be 
 followed when writing for either publisher or man- 
 ager. We come now to a few variations, points which 
 the publisher prefers for his own particular case. 
 
 The amateur not being informed as to the jargon 
 and vernacular of the theatre, is not apt to understand 
 or properly visualize a script filled with abbreviations 
 and other professional short-cuts. Nor do they look 
 well in the printed play-book. Therefore, write out 
 in full your stage directions, and all names wherever 
 
54 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 JED. Mis' Chase' is expectin* a visitor today. 
 
 CHRIS ( indifferently, looking at his paper) . Yea so I've been toltfi 
 Someone sp»ke of it as I was coming down the street. 
 
 JED. Do you remember Caselda? 
 
 CHRIS ( looking up ). Perfectly. She was a smart kid. ( Looking back 
 at his paper again. ) Used to see her around a lot before she went away. 
 HEHRY enters from street dcor . 
 
 CHRIS ( having turned at sound of bell ) . Hello, Henry. 
 
 HEMRY... Kornin 1 , Mr. Bellows. Just been hearin* about Mis' Chase's 
 old maid niece comin' to Kipp's Falls. Gosh a'mighty — what do we want 
 another one here for? 
 
 JED. We've sure got a. lot of old hens 'round this place. 
 
 HEJIRY. Pore old things, I'm kinder sorry for 'em. And now. another 
 one. How old is. she?, 
 
 CHRIS ( folding up his paper, mentally calculating ) . Oh, 'bout 
 forty. I used to see her around a lot. 
 
 HEKRY. Fortyl Good LordJ ( Looking out. ) ScatJ. Here comes the 
 bunch? 
 
 ( A murmur outside. ) 
 
 The door opens and MIRANDA enters, followed by SARAH. Each carries 
 a package. 
 
 MIRAlODAi Where's Mis' Chase? I brought over my new counterpane 
 for the spare bed. I thought she'd need it. 
 
 SARAH. Visitors always need extra things. 
 
 The bell tinkles again with ABBY'S entrance, followed at once toy 
 E1MTA.. Both carry packages. 
 
 ABBY ( smirking and simpering at sight of the men ) . Oh, good norn»} 
 ing, Mr. Bellows. 
 
 CHRIS ( shortly ). Good morning. 
 
 ABBY. Howdy, Henry. 
 
 HENRY ( negligently ). Howdy. ( EMLiA simply smiles at both and goeS i 
 A Specimen Page of Manuscript Typed for Printing 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 55 
 
 they appear. Of course, the instruction to write all 
 names out in full has no reference to some especially 
 long name given as it appears in the program. It 
 is the custom to head the speech of each character 
 with the name most frequently used for that charac- 
 ter by the rest of the cast. For instance, a man 
 might be listed as "John Wellington Smith, Jr.," in 
 the cast of characters. His speeches could be headed 
 by either "John" or "Smith." But do not head his 
 speeches "J. W. S." 
 
 State everything as clearly as possible in the stage 
 descriptions and directions. If you have in mind a 
 particular inflection or "reading" for some phrase 
 or speech, describe just the impression you wish that 
 speech to make. If you have visualized your play in 
 detail, you will want it acted as you saw it. Put into 
 your script all you saw in your mind's eye. It is most 
 helpful to the players and their director ; it will also 
 save a deal of editing by the publisher. 
 
 If you will inform yourself of these matters by 
 reading printed plays, you will be able to submit a 
 manuscript requiring a minimum of editing. Do not 
 forget if a publisher has to pay an editor to do a lot 
 to your script, it is likely to affect your own check. 
 And your play will have to be worthwhile to be turnecf 
 over to the editor at all. 
 
 Go over all exits and entrances of characters to 
 make sure you have not blundered. If not careful, 
 you may send a character off through a door at right, 
 and then indicate in your MS. his immediate return 
 from left. Get people out of the way; do not jumble 
 them up helter-skelter in a doorway. Of course, a 
 good director can straighten such blunders out, but, 
 why make them? With amateurs, it is not always pos- 
 
56 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 sible to secure the services of a good director, and they 
 must do the best they can with your instructions. 
 
 Another important point to be noted in the play 
 intended for the printer which is slightly different 
 from the professional MS. : Type with double spacing 
 throughout. This is to leave room for the editor to 
 make notes for the printer, specifying type sizes and 
 styles and other matters which are needed even in the 
 best of manuscripts. 
 
 "Business" is always set off in some way from the 
 dialogue. In a professional MS. this is done invari- 
 ably by indenting it and putting it on a separate line. 
 In a printed play this is not always done. But the 
 business is underlined, preferably in red, and set off 
 by parentheses. When it appears in print, the under- 
 lined words are in italics and in parentheses. To 
 print a MS. as the professional types it would make 
 too large a book for amateur purposes. 
 
 One more distinguishing point which must be re- 
 membered. Always include a brief synopsis of your 
 story. This is not only an aid to the publisher's 
 reader, but if the play is accepted, is used for adver- 
 tising purposes. In some instances it is also included 
 in the printed play-book as an aid to the amateur 
 selecting a play. 
 
 VI 
 
 I have mentioned in several places the length of 
 time a play can run. You may have wondered how 
 this can be judged. In general, we calculate the 
 acting-time of any play, when properly typed, at 
 about a minute to a page. That can only be a rough 
 estimate, of course; but if a manuscript is about 
 fifteen pages long it will in all probability run either 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 57 
 
 a little less or a trifle longer than fifteen minutes. 
 In the theatre, we never count the number of words 
 in a script for the quite obvious reason that many of 
 the words are used in lengthy descriptions meant only 
 for the director and have no effect on the acting-time 
 at all. But in taking the minute-a-page average, long 
 speeches on one page will balance long descriptions 
 on another, and so on. 
 
 It would seem absurdly unnecessary to mention the 
 need for some sort of education in the use of lan- 
 guage. But those of us who have any access to the 
 manuscripts of the novice know how often a play — 
 one of literature's most difficult forms — has been at- 
 tempted by someone w T ith not enough education to 
 w T rite a decent letter. Why not take the trouble to 
 learn good English? If you are an adult with any 
 kind of intelligence, a little application will work 
 wonders. 
 
 Also, a number of people to whom English is not 
 a native language, attempt to write in it. It is often 
 difficult for the average newcomer in our tongue who 
 considers himself fluent, to realize that his carefully 
 framed English, in the mouths of supposedly native 
 American characters, sounds exotic and unfamiliar 
 to those of us to whom the speech, slang and all, is 
 second nature. Therefore, take the trouble to learn 
 the language so that its colloquialisms as well as its 
 vagaries are familiar to you, before attempting a play 
 of purely American people on purely American topics. 
 
 VII 
 
 I would like to touch briefly on the matter of 
 plagiarism. That means, literally, the appropriation 
 of another's work given out as one's own. This is a 
 
58 DO'S AND D ON'T'S 
 
 serious matter, and is apt to cause trouble for every- 
 one concerned. It is often done quite innocently by 
 someone ignorant of the impropriety. A novice reads 
 a story ; without thinking about it as a fault, he de- 
 cides the story would make a good play, and proceeds 
 to write it. That is all very well for practice, but if 
 anything is to be done with the play in print or before 
 the public, two things must happen: The original 
 author's name must be mentioned and his written per- 
 mission obtained. Also, he will probably demand a 
 share of the receipts. To ignore these facts is apt 
 to bring one within the grasp of the law. Never send 
 out a play unless it is your own original creation in 
 all respects. 
 
 VIII 
 
 As has been said, this is only a brief manual on a 
 subject requiring a large volume. To know the mat- 
 ter more in detail, it will be necessary for you to refer 
 to some of the more exhaustive books on this and kin- 
 dred subjects. A short bibliography follows the list 
 of definitions. Usually in the back of each of these 
 reference books will be found mentioned other books. 
 
 Also I have suggested the study of a play cata- 
 logue, and the reading of popular printed plays. 
 
 If I have impressed upon you the necessity for pre- 
 liminary study and thought, and have convinced you 
 that the work is difficult and success not to be lightly 
 achieved, I have accomplished a little of what I started 
 to do. If in addition you have found anything help- 
 ful or suggestive of ways and means, another point 
 has been gained. 
 
 Be prepared to re-write and revise frequently and 
 sometimes painfully. For the rest, you are now left 
 to think it over. 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGH T 59 
 
 IX 
 
 TERMS WITH WHICH THE PLAYWRIGHT 
 SHOULD BE FAMILIAR. 
 
 Abbreviations — 
 
 R. : A stage-direction used in play MSS., indicat- 
 ing the right-hand side of the stage, from the actor's 
 right as he faces the footlights. 
 
 L. : The left side from the actor's left. 
 
 C. : The center of the stage, or the immediate vi- 
 cinity. 
 
 R. C: A point to the right of this. 
 
 Up stage : Toward the back, away from the foot- 
 lights. 
 
 Down stage : Near the footlights. 
 
 Up R. C: A point toward the rear, and right of 
 center. 
 
 Off stage: The area just outside the visible part 
 of the stage as disclosed when the curtain is up. 
 
 X: Sometimes used to mean "goes" or "crosses"; 
 for instance, "John X down L." 
 
 Other abbreviations can be understood easily from 
 the foregoing. 
 
 "Act in One" : A vaudeville term used to designate 
 anything performed at the front of the stage, before 
 a curtain hung at about the "first entrance." 
 
 Action: The "action" of a play is its forward 
 moving succession of episodes. It should be always 
 progressive. 
 
 Asides: Lines or words spoken directly to the 
 audience as distinguished from speeches directed to 
 the other characters. 
 
 Atmosphere: A term used to describe matters in 
 the play which provide a feeling of reality, or of es- 
 
60 DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 
 pecial localities. It may refer to scenery, or charac- 
 ters, or dialogue. 
 
 Business: The business of a play is what the ac- 
 tors do or the manner in which they act or move 
 about. Most of it is inserted in the proper places by 
 the dramatist. 
 
 Climax: The highest point of excitement or ten- 
 sion in a play. As a general rule it occurs at or to- 
 ward the end of next to the last act. 
 
 Conditions Precedent, The : A term used by some 
 writers to express those matters and conditions which 
 precede the actual beginning of the play, knowledge 
 of which is necessary to our understanding. These 
 Conditions Precedent are usually developed as part of 
 the Exposition. 
 
 Cue: The last few words of an actor's speech 
 which words are the signal for the next player to 
 speak or act. Or it may be the stage-business which 
 serves the same purpose. Also, property men and 
 stage-hands are interested in cues, since they point 
 the moments for various matters of interest to them. 
 In typing "parts" for study, an actor's own speeches 
 are given, but all that his part contains of the other 
 speeches are the cues. 
 
 Cyclorama: A rear drop that is hung in a curved 
 floor line, not straight across the stage. It is used 
 to give the illusion of great distance in outdoor 
 scenes. 
 
 Delayed Action: See Retardation of Action. 
 
 Directions : See Stage Directions. 
 
 Director: See Stage Director. 
 
 Drop: A scenic curtain that can be rolled. 
 
 Doubling: For one actor to play two different 
 characters. 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 61 
 
 Down stage: See Abbreviations. 
 
 Ensemble: The general effect of the whole pro- 
 duction. Also, "business" enacted by the whole cast 
 of characters, or speeches spoken in unison by all of 
 the people present on the stage at the time. 
 
 Entrance: In a play manuscript, the appearance 
 of a character on the stage. On the stage, the place 
 at which he enters ; also, his entry. 
 
 Exposition: The exposition is that part of the 
 play which introduces the characters, their relation to 
 each other and their connection with the plot. 
 
 Extras: See Supernumerary. 
 
 Flat: A piece of canvas scenery mounted on a 
 wooden frame or stretcher. 
 
 Flies : The region above the visible stage. 
 
 Foots: Footlights. 
 
 Front : On the audience's side of the footlights. 
 
 Gridiron: The frame work over the stage from 
 which the drops, borders and border lights are hung. 
 
 Lines: The lines of a play are what the layman 
 knows as the dialogue; that is, the speeches of the 
 players. 
 
 Low-comedy: The term is applied to rough or 
 boisterous fun. 
 
 Monologues: Correctly used, as a form of enter- 
 tainment by a single performer, the monologue has a 
 distinct place. In a play, however, the term is some- 
 times used instead of soliloquy, or, derisively, of a 
 play in which only one player is permitted to do any- 
 thing of importance. 
 
 Motive: The main idea or thesis dominating the 
 whole. The argument you set forth to prove. 
 
 MS. : A manuscript. 
 
 MSS. : Plural of "MS." 
 
62 DO'S AND DON'T'S 
 
 Off stage : See Abbreviations. 
 
 Patter: A vaudeville term applied to rapid cross- 
 fire talk between several comedians. Or it may mean 
 brisk monologue material. 
 
 Parts : The dialogue and business allotted to the 
 different players, typed for easy study and used at 
 rehearsal. Also, the term applied to the entire role, 
 as : John Smith will play the part of "Henry." 
 
 Planting: A term expressing the establishing of 
 some certain fact necessary to our knowledge at a 
 place in the play prior to its actual use as drama. 
 
 Plot: The story, with its beginning, middle, and 
 end. 
 
 Properties : Anything used by the players or placed 
 on the stage as a necessary part of the action, from 
 the grand piano on which the heroine plays to the 
 card the butler brings on. 
 
 Props: May mean either properties, or the prop- 
 erty man. 
 
 Punch: A slang term hard to define. It refers to 
 some quality in a play or act which attracts atten- 
 tion and makes for success. 
 
 Retardation of Action: An expression used in re- 
 gard to the manner in which the action of a play is 
 legitimately held back for suspense instead of allow- 
 ing it to rush forward to a quick conclusion. 
 
 Scenario: The working plan of a play. If com- 
 plete, it maps out the plot, scene by scene and act 
 by act. 
 
 Scene: In a play MS., one of the sequences of the 
 unfolding. Also, any division of a single act on 
 which the curtain falls. On the stage, the appearance 
 presented when the curtain is up is called the scene. 
 
 Scene a faire: A term used by Eugene Scribe in 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 63 
 
 reference to the scene the audience has a right to 
 expect to see acted out. 
 
 Script : The usual theatrical term for the play 
 manuscript. 
 
 Sequence: The following of one episode as a 
 logical outcome of the episode preceding. 
 
 Setting: The stage furnishings and scenery of any 
 act taken as a whole. 
 
 Situation: Any single episode or phase of the 
 plot into which the characters have moved or been 
 forced. 
 
 Soliloquy : Long speeches rendered from an other- 
 wise empty stage, as if the actor were thinking aloud. 
 
 Speech: General term applied to the lines spoken 
 by a player, from cue to cue. 
 
 Stage directions : These include the "business" and 
 also instructions for setting the stage. 
 
 Stage director: The person who "stages" or di- 
 rects the play at rehearsal. 
 
 Stage manager: In small companies, especially 
 amateur, the stage director and stage manager may 
 be the same person. In large organizations, he is 
 the man who attends to the setting of the stage, 
 sees that acts are "called" in time for all performers 
 to be in their places, and that all properties are at 
 hand when needed. 
 
 Subject: The story chosen to develop theme or 
 motive. 
 
 Sub-plot: Any plot which, without real relation- 
 ship to the main plot, follows along with it. It is 
 taboo in all good play-writing. 
 
 Supernumerary: One who has a very minor part, 
 and generally with no lines to speak. Supernume-r- 
 
64 DO'S AND DONT'S 
 
 aries or "extras" are used as soldiers, in mob scenes, 
 etc. 
 
 Suspense: That quality in any form of writing 
 which holds our interest because of our doubt of the 
 outcome. 
 
 Synopsis: A brief version of the play as a whole. 
 Also used of the time and place of action, following 
 the cast of characters on a play program. 
 
 Theme: Generally used synonymously with motive. 
 
 Unities, The: Referring to the laws of literature 
 as set forth by Aristotle, known as the Unity of 
 Time, of Place, and of Action. 
 
 Up stage: See Abbreviations. 
 
 Visualizing: That psychological quality in the 
 writer which enables him to mentally see his play 
 being acted; a very necessary quality for dramatic 
 writing. 
 
 Wings : That part of the stage beyond and behind 
 the visible scenery, where actors wait for their cues. 
 
FOR THE PLAYWRIGHT 65 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 "Play-making," William Archer. Small, Maynard & 
 
 Co. 
 "Dramatic Technique," George Pierce Baker. 
 Houghton Mifflin Co. 
 "Problems of the Playwright," Clayton Hamilton. 
 
 Henry Holt & Co. 
 "Writing and Selling a Play," Fanny Cannon. 
 
 Henry Holt & Co. 
 "Play Production in America," Arthur Edwin Krows. 
 
 Henry Holt & Co. 
 "Costumes and Scenery for Amateurs," Constance 
 
 D'Arcy Mackay. Henry Holt & Co. 
 "Writing for Vaudeville," Brett Page. Home Cor- 
 respondence Schools. 
 "How to Stage a Play," Harry Osborne. T. S. 
 
 Denison & Co. 
 "How to Stage a Minstrel Show," Jeff Branen & 
 
 Frederick G. Johnson. T. S. Denison & Co. 
 
Gaselda Gomes Home 
 
 BY 
 
 Fanny Cannon 
 
 A COMEDY in 3 acts; 5 males, 8 females. Time, 
 2 hours. Scenes: 2 interiors. 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 Caselda Brown From New York 
 
 Amanda Chase Her Aunt 
 
 Alma Bellows Afraid of the Black List 
 
 Mrs. Bemus No Old Maid, Thank Heaven! 
 
 Miranda Purcell One of the Old Maids 
 
 Abby Snyder Another 
 
 Sarah Stone Still Another 
 
 Emma Nelson And Another 
 
 Christopher Bellows A Prosperous Farmer 
 
 Jed Hopkins The Postmaster 
 
 Henry Perkins The Village "Catch" 
 
 William Bemus A Farmer 
 
 Jasper Elwood From New York 
 
 This might be called the tragi-comedy of a small 
 town. Alma, aged 25, with a "horrible example" of a 
 town full of unmated women, accepts the only mar- 
 riageable young man in the neighborhood for fear of 
 being an old maid. But Caselda, an attractive and 
 youthful-seeming "old maid," arrives from New York, 
 and in dramatic yet laughable fashion she turns things 
 around, opening the eyes of her former townsmen and 
 saving Alma from the "village beau." Running 
 through the comedy is a vein of serious undercurrent 
 on the status of the unattached female, and a hint as 
 to the way out. Every person in the play is a 
 "type" that invites the skill of the artistic performer. 
 Miss Cannon is the author of many professional stage 
 successes as well as an authority on the technique of 
 playwriting, and in this comedy she offers rare oppor- 
 tunity to a group of skillful character players. 
 
 Professional stage rights reserved and a 
 royalty of fifteen dollars required for amateur 
 Performance. Price, Per Copy, 50 Cents 
 
 T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 
 
 623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 
 
In Hot Tamale Land 
 
 BY 
 
 Geoffrey F. Morgan 
 
 A MUSICAL COMEDY in 2 acts; 10 principals (6 
 males, 4 females) and a chorus of any size. 
 
 PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS. 
 
 Ezra McWhackle An American Pickle King 
 
 Bobby Hunter Honest, Though Poor 
 
 Ned and Dick His Two Chums 
 
 Don Soda Di Poppo Ruler of Hot Tamale Land 
 
 Punko Doro Agent of Bullfighters' Union 
 
 Eleanor Ezra's Charming Daughter 
 
 Agatha Fidget Chaperoning Eleanor 
 
 Dolores Daughter of the Don 
 
 Juanita A Shy Sefiorita 
 
 Sefioritas, Toreadors, American Girls and Boys, Amer- 
 ican Bluejackets, Herald, etc. 
 
 This musical comedy is ideal for college and high 
 school production, having no elaborate stage require- 
 ments, though scenery and costumes may be as lavish 
 as desired, and it can be made a thoroughly preten- 
 tious offering. The scene is laid in an imaginary 
 country in the tropics, where raising pickles is the 
 nation's business and attending bull fights is the 
 nation's pastime. Bobby must earn $10,000" before 
 Eleanor's father will consent to her marrying him. 
 The bullfighters' union calls a strike, and Bobby vol- 
 unteers as a strike breaker. His friends' efforts to 
 bolster his waning courage, the walking delegate's 
 threats of vengeance, Bobby's study of the science 
 from a bullfighting manual — these are just a few of 
 the ridiculous complications which combine to make 
 IN HOT TAMALE LAND two hours of solid laughter. 
 No music is included with the book, but* there is pro- 
 vision for introducing solos, ensemble numbers, dances 
 and drills, to be chosen by the director. Has been 
 produced with great success. Requires but one stage 
 setting. Contains detailed directions for staging. 
 
 Price, 35 Cents. 
 
 T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 
 
 623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 
 
Betty's Last Bet 
 
 BY 
 
 Edith Ellis 
 
 A FARCE-COMEDY in 3 acts; 5 males, 6 females. 
 Time, 2% hours. Scene: 1 interior. 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 Mrs. Darling With Four Great Problems 
 
 Kitty Her Eldest Daughter 
 
 Peggy Her Second 
 
 Dolly Her Third 
 
 Betty Her Fourth 
 
 Hannah A Man-hating Servant 
 
 Richard Wentworth Their Wealthy Neighbor 
 
 Percy Wentworth His Nephew and Ward 
 
 Jack Van Loon Of the Historic Van Loons 
 
 Hamilton Moriarity A Rising Young Legislator 
 
 Edgar Darling A Student of Archaeology 
 
 Betty's propensity for wagering keeps her in hot 
 water, and her mother and sisters, too. Mrs. Darling 
 is struggling bravely to promote matches for the other 
 girls when Betty, expelled from boarding school, re- 
 turns home disgraced but unabashed. And straight- 
 was' she makes her last bet — and her greatest one — ■ 
 with a likeable but unintroduced young man. He wa- 
 gers that he can successfully impersonate a distant 
 cousin, and get all the sisters engaged within twenty- 
 four hours. Three kisses are the stakes. Betty's last 
 bet incites an amazing train of complications, and 
 when she loses the bet, she loses her heart as well. 
 This author has a fine record of professional stage 
 successes to her credit, and BETTY'S LAST BET 
 is built from the same rich fund of lines and situations. 
 
 Professional stage rights reserved and a 
 royalty of twenty dollars required for amateur 
 performance. Price, Per Copy, 50 Cents 
 
 T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 
 
 623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 
 
Fifty-Fifty 
 
 BY 
 
 Frederick G. Johnson 
 
 A FARCE of love, luck and laughter in 3 acts, by 
 the author of "Mary's Millions"; 5 males, 5 fe- 
 males. Time, 2 J4 hours. Scenes: 2 interiors, an attic 
 studio and a bungalow. 
 
 CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY. 
 
 Henry Brown An Artist 
 
 Paul Green An Author 
 
 Patrick O'Malley A Janitor 
 
 Smudge A Valet 
 
 Cap' A Wanderer 
 
 Mrs. Podge A Landlady 
 
 Sophie Bland A Dancer 
 
 May Dexter An Enthusiast 
 
 Mrs. Hawley A Collector 
 
 Josephine A Seeker 
 
 If there be a moral to this merry comedy of compli- 
 cations, it is that it is possible to get too much of a 
 good thing. Paul and Henry are struggling to achieve 
 fame and bread-and-butter money in literature and 
 art. Utter failure is their lot until one of Henry's 
 paintings, accidentally displayed upside down, is enthu- 
 siastically purchased by an art collector, and the "im- 
 pressionistic painter" becomes the talk of the town. 
 Paul, following the hunch, writes his stories backward, 
 and success follows swiftly. But some innocent fibs, 
 told for" reasons of necessity, reach the newspapers, 
 and the pals find themselves headed straight for 
 trouble. Their love affairs go awry, and in the pre- 
 dicaments which follow as a result of their propensity 
 for spinning yarns, they find success an empty thing. 
 A woman who claims to be Paul's wife, an elusive van- 
 ishing painting, a mysterious sea-faring man, a med- 
 dling landlady, all contribute to the mixup. Of course 
 it all comes out happily. 
 
 Professional stage rights reserved and a 
 royalty of fifteen dollars required for amateur 
 performance. Price, Per Copy, 50 Cents 
 
 T. S. Denisoii & Company, Publishers 
 
 623 South Wabash Avenue CHICAGO 
 
Gettin' Acquainted 
 
 BY 
 
 Georgia Earle 
 
 QUAINT, small-town comedy in 1 act; 1 male, 2 
 females. Time, 25 minutes. Scene: A New Eng- 
 land sitting- room. Played for three years by the 
 talented authoress herself, on the Keith and Orpheum 
 circuits; in New York, Chicago, Toronto, San Fran- 
 cisco, New Orleans and cities in between, it struck a 
 new note in vaudeville and has been compared with 
 "The Old Homestead," Mary E. Wilkins' stories, etc. 
 
 CAST OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 Jane Stewart A Spinster 
 
 Priscilla Stewart Her Sister, Also a Spinster 
 
 John Purdy A Wooer for Fifteen Years 
 
 All have heard of men who courted for years and 
 did not "pop"; most communities can furnish living 
 examples. The idea has never been used before with 
 such clever and sprightly results. Honest, slow-think- 
 ing, yet withal determined John Purdy had spent 15 
 years just gettin' acquainted with the Stewart sisters, 
 Jane and Priscilla. Finally Jane "goes and gets herself 
 engaged" to another man but decides to bring matters 
 to a focus for Priscilla. She determines to "make it 
 snappy" and poor old John is "railroaded" into camp. 
 Splendid lines and ."business" so unusually clever as 
 to place it almost in a class by itself among one-act 
 plays. Like most talented creations, its simplicity 
 commends it; well adapted to amateur presentation. 
 Very minute directions for staging, acting and "busi- 
 ness." Four excellent half-tone reproductions of scenes. 
 
 Professional stage rights reserved and a 
 royalty office dollars required for amateur 
 performance. Price, Per Copy, 35 Cents 
 
 T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 
 
 623 S. Wabash Ave. CHICAGO 
 
How to Stage a Play 
 
 Harry Osborne 
 
 IT TELLS just what you want to 
 know in brief space. It will en- 
 able you to give a successful en- 
 tertainment instead of a failure. 
 Fundamental principles and secrets 
 of practicable stagecraft are fully 
 explained and the illustrations of 
 various methods of stage setting are 
 of particular value. This book is as 
 necessary as the play itself to be- 
 ginners. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 Chapter I. — A Successful Amateur 
 Production. 
 The Play— The Company— Public- 
 ity. 
 
 Chapter II. — The Stage Director. 
 How Selected— Should He Play a Part?— His Staff 
 and Their Duties — The Stage Manager — The Prop- 
 erty Man — The Stage Carpenter — Stage Hands — 
 The Wardrobe Mistress — Responsibility and Au- 
 thority. 
 Chapter III. — Preparation for Rehearsals. 
 Chapter IV.— The Physical Stage. 
 Chapter V. — Rehearsals. 
 The First Rehearsal — The Second Rehearsal — The 
 Third Rehearsal — Rehearsal Without Parts. 
 Chapter VI. — Subsequent Rehearsals. 
 
 Tempo — Interruptions — Dialect Parts — Love Scenes — 
 Doing Things Right — Reading Lines — Stage Busi- 
 ness—In General. 
 Chapter VII. — Dress Rehearsals. 
 Chapter VIII. — Musical Comedy. 
 Chapter IX.— The Opening Night. 
 Chapter X. — Things to Remember. 
 
 Dont's. 
 Chapter XL — Stage Lighting. 
 Chapter XII. — Scenery. 
 
 Screens — Drapes. 
 Chapter XIII. — Make-up and Costumes. 
 Chapter XIV.— Mechanical Effects. 
 Chapter XV. — Glossary of Stage Terms. 
 
 Price, 25 Cents. 
 
 T. S. DeitisOR & Company, Publishers 
 
 623 S. Wabash Ave. CHICAGO 
 
OCT 1 * 1928