PHASES OF THE STORY

PHASES OF THE STORY
PLANNING FOR SEQUENCE-
UNITIES-
THE SUB-PLOT
 
FLIGHTS OF FANCY-
REALISM-
CONTRARY TO THE KNOWN FACTS-
BE HUMAN-
BE LOGICAL-
BE CONTEMPORANEOUS
Planning for sequence. With your story forming itself in your mind, there is still much to be done before the setting forth of your idea in scenario form—much to be planned and digested. The story must be so shaped and re-shaped that events come in proper sequence arranged so as to take the audience step by step to the denouement. Professor Adolphus William Ward says : "Every drama should represent in organic sequence the several stages of which a complete action consists, and which are essential to it. Every action, if conceived of as complete, has its causes, growth, height, consequences, and close." As in all rules, there are exceptions to this ; in the "slice of life" drama we do not conceive of the action as complete when presented, and frequently omit the close, in some cases even the consequences. But even in this uncertain form, the latter should be implied or suggested ; we use our imagination and carry the story on from the point at which the dramatist left his characters, guided by the significant aspects of his finale. Aristotle advised the tying of the knot, and then its untying; or, in other words, the arising of a number of complications as a result of certain actions or forces, and the extrication of the characters from the consequent situations. In the modern drama this rule is by no means rigidly followed, so far as a full and finished explanation is concerned. But some sort of sequence is necessary. If certain events occur, it must be because certain other events preceded. Some of these may have taken place before the drama opens. If they are essential for the spectator's understanding, he must know of them. He must be told carefully, skillfully, disguising the fact that the writer is explaining at all. This is the " exposition " of which we will speak again.
Unities. Aristotle also laid great stress on the unities—those oft-quoted unities of time, place, and action. Again we have a rule no longer strictly followed, although of late years it has been frequently insisted upon because of the consequent saving of expense in production. It is an excellent rule for the novice. It helps him to keep his matter in one cohesive whole—a thing not easy to do without practice. To keep the action as much as possible within the range of as short a time and distance as is consistent with the clear telling of the story will materially help the writer in holding the singleness of motive and subject. Many plays, nowadays, cover a period of a few days or less, frequently within the hours between overture and the fall of the final
curtain. Rarely do they require the passage of years between. Notice the exceptions to this : such plays as Rosemary, The Prince Chap, Mile-stones —perhaps one play of the kind in years. In all these plays mentioned the unusual stretch of time is used to present a novelty, not as a matter of course. Often all the action takes place within one house, or even one room, frequently within one city. There is good reason for this. One feels as if actually watching through some magic glass scenes occurring at that very moment. A more commercial yet none the less potent reason enters here as to why too much shifting of "locale " is detrimental to the sale of the novice's play. Many changes of scenery will entail extra expense on the producer, added items of risk in the preliminary outlay. He is not to be blamed if he takes such things into account when dealing with an unknown quantity. However, write your practice-play all over the map—at first—so long as you get it written. Your bringing it together afterward will only add to its strength.
Sub-plots. It has been said there must be but one theme, and one episode. By episode, I do not mean situation, but one plot, one "complete action." The sub-plot has practically disappeared from play- writing. If you can tell your story—prose fashion— simply and tersely, you will note that you have but one plot. Other interests, other incidents, other matters may enter. But at the last analysis your " plot " needed them to carry it forward. This is the unity of action—the most potent, the most unyielding of the
three unities. You may defy it, if you have the skill. You cannot go wrong if you follow it.
Flights of fancy. With your story well in hand, go over it carefully to be sure your material needs no overhauling. Certain flights of fancy are permissible, even in everyday drama. We frequently do not notice a lack of plausibility, if the story is gripping, and arrives somewhere. This is as true in books as in plays. It is not unknown in criminal jurisprudence with clever lawyers skilled in oratory. However, unless writing a certain type of play with which we will deal later, use this license sparingly in these days of realism. One offense is unpardonable; you must not fly in the face of known facts. The possible exceptions might be satire, burlesque, or extravaganza.
Realism. As an instance of my meaning: in a play written around the American Revolution, the part designed by the author as "comic relief" was that of a sergeant. Now, it so happens that military tactics are possibly as inelastic as any rules of human conduct can be. They were even more strict in those long-ago days of almost constant warfare between the nations. The character in question was a British soldier, which fact would necessitate a much more exact discipline than that maintained over the raw recruits of the Continental Army. The author, however, ignoring all these matters known to the merest schoolboy, allowed the sergeant to enter, meet his lieutenant, who was a very minor character, almost a supernumerary, in the play—but still a lieu
tenant in the English army—and melodramatically shout at him some instructions or news without salute or any other mark of respect. Then, turning to the men standing about, the sergeant gave some orders, leading them off-stage, his superior officer trailing meekly in the rear—to give the comedian the center of the stage ! Of course, some of this was bad stage-direction ; but, as the director was also the author, it is evident these omissions were the fault of his manuscript. Easily obtainable fact was mercilessly sacrificed to a thrilling scene for the funny man. This play was actually produced "on the road" with several well-known players in the cast. Could the star-author-director have heard the giggling remarks of some military-school boys seated in the orchestra, he might have realized the importance of points he had not considered worth his attention.
Always remember the chance that somewhere in your audience may be seated the man or woman who has made a special study of the subject you are treating so ignorantly or so slightingly ; no matter how obscure that subject may be, or how brief your reference to it, stick to fact. To prove to you how careful is the writer who knows his business, and who treats it with all the seriousness it deserves : a man was working on a play in which he expected to introduce the character of a young officer in the United States Navy. This character was one of the less important people in the drama. Had the writer been the author of the Revolutionary play before mentioned, he would have been satisfied to put a naval
uniform on his creation and send him adrift to make all kinds of " breaks " of the sort which invariably irritate and antagonize the Navy and its friends. In this case, inquiries were made everywhere as to the rules governing Annapolis, letters were sent to naval officers actually stationed on duty ; nothing which could be discovered was ignored in the completion of this character and the part he played in the story. As a result, though his " lines " in the play were few, he was a naval officer, the terms used about him and by him were correct, and no naval law, written or unwritten, had been transgressed.
Contrary to known facts. A novice's play had a duel scene between two officers in the United States Army of to-day. Not once in -the play was mention made of the fact that dueling is absolutely against both the laws of the country and the code of the Army. If two American soldiers were to fight a bona fide duel, the fact of their so far transgressing law and order would be situation enough to make a play in itself. But to ignore it as transgression is bad writing, whether in story or play.
Be human. There are mental phases, psychological aspects, which must at least be human. In a very bad play read a little while ago, a shocking murder was committed and afterward described by the principal character. Nowhere in the entire course of the drama did that character or any other in the cast display the least horror, amazement, regret, or remorse. Had he stolen a loaf of bread and devoted three acts to his efforts to escape ten days in the
lock-up, his associates could not have been more callous to his action. And they were supposedly people of breeding and education ! At least, the author said so.
Be logical. In other words, be logical. It would seem almost unbelievable that errors like the examples given could occur. Yet would-be writers, demanding a public, make them constantly. Do not let the seeming harshness of this statement daunt you or turn you back ; if you have really something to say, you will not be stopped so easily. It is better to make mistakes than to make nothing. Mistakes can be corrected; nothing merely remains zero. "If one is afraid of being proved wrong, one will never do right." The perfect play, flawless as to structure, plot, design, and presentation, has yet to be written. I do not know that Iwant to see it when it is. Perfection is somehow chilling. A musical composition can be erected from a certain series of notes by following the laws of Harmony and Thorough- bass. But who would care to hear it unless the composer had more in his soul than just those notes and the law !
Paul Armstrong, the dramatist, sums it up rather well: "Play-writing is half-instinct and half- experience. One must first have a story which he can tell across a table inside of ten minutes. If he can tell it in five all the better. The story must have to do with human beings. Somebody must be in danger of something, that somebody may be saved from something. I do not mean a saw-mill or hanging
the loss of one single person's faith may be enough, but someone must be saved."
As to any set formula, listen to David Belasco: "The formula of play-writing changes every season. Year by year the dramatist is allowed less license. His skill must be greater than that of the 'veteran dramatist,' for we have advanced with the years and no longer accept that which once seemed plausible. The new dramatist is forced to move far in advance of the old, to get nearer to the truth, to the facts of life."
Be contemporaneous. Whatever your theme, it is best that your story should be contemporaneous. It will be, if you follow advice, and write only of such things and people as you yourself can understand and properly present. The reason is far-reaching. The "great American drama" will be of more value both as a description and comment to present and future Americans than any play, however well conceived and written, which deals with past, distant, or symbolical events.