Writing and the Wonderful World of Community Theatre

By Gillian Crow 

Community Theatre is something I feel confident to write about – that is my world. 

Writing, not so much – still learning. 

It seems a natural progression from being involved in all other aspects of theatre to writing your own play, yes? All you need is an intriguing story with interesting characters, right? Wrong. Getting a script onto the page, then off the page and onto the stage is not that simple. When you’re writing for community theatre, you must remember that your script will be read through many different lenses before being deemed appropriate for production. No matter how poetic, dramatic, comedic or downright important your play is, practicalities like budget, casting pools, venues, costume and technical requirements will all have a bearing on its viability. 

Also, before hitting the keyboard, consider where and how the play is to be presented. Is it a full-length two-act play designed for multiple performances in one venue? Or is it for one-act play festivals where it needs to be transferable and adhere to strict rules about run times and stage set/strike regimes? 

And be sure your end goal is, in fact, a stage play. Too many authors seem to think that stage is an easy way in, when they really dream of their script becoming a screenplay, becoming a blockbuster. Those scripts can be episodic and clumsy. No audience enjoys continual blackouts while they are transported to another time and place – and back. 

Speaking of the audience, remember to give them credit for imagination and intuition. Not everything has to be spelled out – let there be ideas to ponder and discuss. You know you’ve done a good job when the audience sits a moment after the lights come up to absorb and digest before rushing to the bar for that restorative glass of bubbly. 

Ok, so now you have all of the things in mind. You have your plot and your characters; you just need the words. On with the writing! 

Unlike prose, all of the information needs to be presented in the form of dialogue. Backstory, history, relationships etc. all need to be gleaned from the characters’ conversations, actions and interactions. There are many creative methods of imparting information beyond what is happening on stage in the present, e.g. one-sided phone calls, recollections, letters or articles read out loud. 

Of course, the dialogue needs to sound natural and appropriate to the character as well as the time and setting of the play. From a practical point of view, there needs to be a reasonable expectation that an actor can learn the lines. Multiple uses of similar words or phrases can be confusing and easily lead to skipping ahead or repeating sections. New ideas arriving out of context are hard to remember. Tongue twisters, unless intentional, are cruel. 

Proper grammar and punctuation go out the window, because that is not how we speak. Auto-correct hates it! That’s not to say that punctuation is not relevant. It is – very. I recently had to deliver a line containing ‘… you know it makes me …’ I agonised over the lack of a comma after ‘know’. It would have made a big difference to delivery and nuance! 

Which brings us to the question of interpretation. Once a script is handed over to a director, what you ultimately see on stage may not match your original vision. Sometimes, workshopping can occur between writer, director and cast, but inevitably changes will occur. A bit disconcerting perhaps and, I imagine, similar to the experience of an author submitting their novel to an editor. Even when you direct your own play, it will evolve according to the actors’ interpretation of their roles. 

My first foray as a playwright was, in my opinion, not a resounding failure, but neither was it resoundingly successful. (Apologies and thanks to the cast of actor friends I took along for the ride!) My concept was sound and the characters credible, but I tried to pack way too much of everything into a 20-minute play. Too many ideas, too many people, too many set pieces, too many props. In all, too many moving parts. And too few rehearsals. 

Subsequent efforts have reduced my cast sizes to a maximum of three, or even one – me. (Takes away the casting problem!) I still tend to err on the side of being ‘prop heavy’. I haven’t given them up, but I am cutting down. 

A couple of years ago I inadvertently created an interesting exercise where I wrote a short story and then rewrote the same storyline as a monologue, which I went on to perform. It worked much better as a performance piece than prose because I could invoke the personality of the protagonist more easily when I was ‘being’ her, rather than writing ‘about’ her. Work needed on written character development. 

As I said, still learning about this writing business. It’s a minefield. Which reminds me, I was once cast in a play called ‘Minefields and Miniskirts’ … ahhh, but I digress. Reminiscing and recounting stories are an integral part of the whole community theatre experience – often while building and painting sets or helping each other with hair and makeup in dressing rooms. It’s not surprising that there are so many plays out there based on real-life theatre experience; ‘The Play That Goes Wrong’ being a prime example. 

By the way, it is true when they say that, in any situation, if you want something done, ask a theatre person. Theatre people are resourceful, resilient, respectful and reliable. They understand that the show must go on. Oh, and that gaffer tape will fix anything.