Tips for budding playwrights (Bill Kirton, French 1962)
Submitting your work
It’s maybe a cliché, but there’s no better way to get your work and yourself noticed than to make sure it’s of high quality. To a large extent that calls for having genuine writing talent but even good writing can look bad if you’re not meticulous about your editing. So when you put in the last full stop, put the text away for as long as possible before going back to it and, rather than just reading it and telling yourself how wonderful you are, do a rigorous line by line edit, checking for spelling, repetitions, punctuation, over-the-top images, inappropriate stylistic flourishes. Do this a few times. The idea is to make sure that your work isn’t let down by tiny, seemingly irrelevant flaws. Apart from anything else, it’ll tell the reader that you’re a serious, professional writer. A final editing point – read your work aloud. Flaubert used to walk up and down his garden reading the drafts of his novels and the rhythms of his prose are flawless as well as beautiful. And another final point, if you can, cut, cut, cut.
Don’t be dismayed by rejections. You may be brilliant, but there are plenty of other, equally or more brilliant writers out there, many of whom are aiming for the same outlet on which you’re focusing. And when you do get an entry of some sort into a theatre or publisher or agent, act professionally, respect their advice, learn from them. As a writer, you’re only part of a system.
In terms of theatre, there are hundreds of amateur groups who are usually prepared to perform plays by unknown authors IF THEY’RE GOOD ENOUGH. If you can persuade a local group to perform one of your plays, listen to what they want, how large a cast they can cope with, what sort of topics, themes they do or don’t prefer. You’re not a genius bestowing your favours on them, you’re a person whose whims they may be prepared to invest in. Listen to their directors, actors and stage hands, they’re all part of the process and experience.. There’s always something new to learn. Theatre is very much a living, collaborative art. Be prepared to be a cog in the wheel.
There are also open competitions online and in the press – national and local – enter as many as you can, making sure your work fits exactly into the criteria they set.
I wouldn’t personally recommend approaching other professionals and asking them to read your script. Many of them are happy to give advice and support, but the fact is that very few of the unsolicited scripts one reads are of immediately obvious quality and no-one likes to discourage a young writer who’s serious about the business. And, in all honesty, a lot of such offerings are frankly poor.
Disabuse yourself of the idea that you’re going to make a living from your writing. You may, of course, but the reality is that only a lucky few achieve such status. Apart from anything else, if you’re writing something knowing you need it to succeed in order to live, the extra pressure that creates can interfere very severely with the stylistic and other purely ‘writing’ choices you make in its creation.
I don’t intend these comments to be discouraging, but it’s better to approach the profession realistically. Several of my novels have won awards, but that guarantees nothing. One of my radio plays into which I’d introduced what I thought was some very clever symbolism earned a review from an eminent critic which began ‘This is a tiresome play about tiresome people’. Take nothing for granted.
My final point would be to encourage you to develop, alongside your writing skills, at least equivalent levels of expertise and energy in promotional and marketing techniques. Unfortunately, their application will get you further than the fact that you’re the next Shakespeare.