WriteForTheStage

If you’ve ever submitted a play to a competition or writing opportunity, you’ve been subjected to the 10-page sift. And you’re likely familiar with the dreaded thanks-but-no-thanks email, and that email can hurt (and follow you around, tauntingly, for days or even weeks).

And one of the reasons it hurts so much is that, chances are, the readers most likely never read the entire script. In fact, they rarely read beyond the first ten pages.

This article is about how to get beyond the 10-page sift, exploring how to make the opening of your play more dynamic and unputdownable.

Ready? Let’s get started.

A play is for performance

Of course, we must remember that a play is for performance — so why should it matter if it’s a slow burn? It’s not like a theatre audience is likely to leave, is it?

Well, actually, we’ve all sat in the theatre staring at our watches. We’ve all seen plays that pay off in the end, but they take their sorry time getting there.

Sure, theatre-goers rarely get and up leave a specific performance — but if they hated your last play, they’re unlikely to jump at the chance of seeing your next.

So, frustrating as it might feel, the 10-page sift actually does us playwrights some valuable favours. Because it forces us to burst the action onto the stage from the off, helping us grab an audience’s attention right from the opening lines.

Tip #1: Get in late.

This isn’t advice for the audience — no one likes a latecomer!

This tip is about dispensing with the worldbuilding. Show us your characters IN the world; resist the temptation to explain — theatre audiences are sophisticated enough to pick up hints about the world along the way.

So, start at the point at which the tension is about to pop. Don’t waste pages building it up.

Think about starting your opening scene mid-conversation/dramatic moment. Some examples:

• Lungs, by Duncan Macmillan, begins with the line: A baby? 
• Orphans, by Dennis Kelly, opens with Liam interrupting an intimate dinner for two, standing there dripping in blood.
• My play, Les & Ali’s Big Balearic Adventure, begins with the line: Why you looking at me like that?
• The Effect, by Lucy Prebble, begins with the line: Have you suffered from depression?

In each of these pieces, the first line thrusts us into the action — we don’t know who is speaking or what they want right now, but the action has started, and it’s up to us to keep up.

Tip #2: Get out early

There’s no time to waste on the page, so once the principal line of plot-changing action is over, end the scene.

The best scenes end with a cliffhanger of some kind, leading us into the next scene.

Tip #3: Have a dramatic question

Sometimes, when writing for discovery, it can take a while for a scene to get going. And often, that’s because we’re not quite sure what the characters are doing to each other.

Remember, a play scene rarely emerges fully formed — it’s about the craft, so the mantra writing is rewriting is most apt here.

When I get stuck on a scene, I ask myself, “What is the dramatic question here?”

A dramatic question has action at its heart and works in the format:

• Will
• Character A
• DO SOMETHING to
• Character B
• For an outcome?

Breaking down the dramatic question

Let’s break that down a bit.

Character A is the do-er (and often the protagonist in pursuit of their super-objective). They want something, and they’ve walked into the room to pursue it.

The DO SOMETHING is a transitive verb — for example, convince, charm, seduce, trick, bolster, pressure. A transitive verb fits into the format: I (VERB) you. This gives Character A a clear line of action.

Character B is the resistor. They try to stop Character A from achieving their object in some way.

And the outcome typically relates to Character A’s immediate objective. If they achieve it, it helps them along the way towards their super-objective. If they fail to achieve it, it forces them to re-strategise.

Mini-task

Write a scene answering the dramatic question:

Will Sam prevent Andy from jumping?

Tip#4: Drive it with conflict

David Mamet said:

“Stories happen because someone wants something and has trouble getting it.”

And that crystallises the heart of every great story with which you’ve ever engaged.

If our protagonist wants to get married, there are several steps to finding the ideal partner. If they wake up one morning and think, “I want to get married”, then leave the house, bump into the person they’re going to marry, instantly fall in love, and get married the next day; well, we don’t really have a story.

Because as audience, we love to see our characters overcome obstacles — it’s only when we see characters placed under extreme pressure that we see their mettle. A character who feels weak and powerless at the story’s start finds their reserve when forced into conflict.

What is conflict?

Perhaps the simplest way to define conflict is when one character wants something, and another character tries to stop them from getting it.

The other character might want the same thing or to stop the other from achieving their goal. Sometimes, the antagonist in the scene doesn’t always know they’re obstructing.

Conflict can be overt or covert, subtle or grand. But without conflict, scenes are boring. And there’s no space for boring in your first ten pages.

Tip #5: Characters need objectives

There’s a misconception that a play is just a bunch of people talking. And while, to a degree, this is true — most of the action in a stage play is delivered through its dialogue — what characters say is their strategy towards their objective.

Indeed, if you’re uncertain of a character’s objective, the dialogue becomes chatty, often resorting to storytelling and exposition.

Give each character a reason to be in the room; something they each want. And get them to use strategies to achieve their objectives. And make the scene a battle of the objectives, from which conflict is bound to emerge.

Tip #6: Character voices need to be distinct

If the reader has to work too hard to differentiate between your characters on the page, you’re likely to fall foul of the 10-page sift. Indeed, You should be able to cover the character names on the page and still know who is saying what.

So, can you make your character voices distinct on the page?

A great place to start is by knowing their objectives — if characters are pursuing those wants, we can quickly ascertain who is saying what.

But think about other ways to present different voices. Think about accents, vocal tics, and turns of phrase. For example, what one person calls their car, another might call it their “motor”.

Consider ways to clearly differentiate how each character expresses themselves. Some might be verbose, while others taciturn.

Tip #7: Know your medium

If you’re writing for the stage, make sure you’ve read plenty of theatre scripts to understand how to present your play in an instantly recognisable way. There are several acceptable play formats — so choose one and stick with it.

However, it’s not just about how the play looks on the page. It’s about understanding theatre as a medium — its limitations and geography. Are you really writing a screenplay? Or is the story you’re telling using the qualities of the theatre and the stage as an inherent component of the action of your script?

You don’t have to keep a theatre script in one location, but consider the practicalities of quick scenes moving from one location to another. Can it be done without interrupting the audience’s enjoyment of the piece? Can you change location without dragging pieces of furniture across the stage?

While these are typically the director’s considerations, we should consider them when building the script’s action.

Tip #8: Know your story

The 10-page sift demands swift action, so it helps to know where your story starts and ends — recognising the changes that will come about due to the character’s journey.

Typically, the story’s start shows us the protagonist in a state of discomfort — a Problem of the World (POTW) is dragging them down. And so, the story follows their attempts to overcome the POTW, achieving self-actualisation by the end.

However, that can be the other way around if you’re writing a tragedy — show us the world of comfort at the beginning because we’ll feel their loss all the more at the end when they’ve lost everything.

But if you know the general shape of your story, it writes itself.

Tip #9: Include the inciting incident

You’ve got ten pages to demonstrate your theatrical prowess, so make every moment count and ensure that your protagonist has been forced into making a big decision that will change everything by page ten.

If we’re being cynical about it, leave us on a cliffhanger at the end of page ten, giving the reader no choice but to read on to find out the outcome.

The inciting incident is the event in the story where the world changes somehow, usually cementing the character’s objective, catapulting them into Act 2. It’s the big moment where the POTW forces the character into action.

I always think the best inciting incidents demand a decision from the protagonist because that puts them in the driver’s seat of the story. It’s a decision they’re going to live or die by.

Remember, each scene is a 3-act play in its own right, so every scene can have a point of change. So, it might not be the play’s main inciting incident, but leaving us with a cliffhanger is a sure way to get the reader to continue reading.

Tip #10: Introduce us to an unfamiliar world

Think about the reader’s job: they have one hundred scripts (perhaps) to get through, and by the time they’ve reached your script, they’ve already read fifteen stories about mental health. So, without dismissing the importance of promoting good mental health and acknowledging that a journey into the mind’s inner workings can be fascinating, it’s terribly difficult to do it well.

Do you really have something new to say about it?

The best scripts say something that hasn’t been said before — in situations we haven’t previously seen on stage. And while it’s almost impossible to be 100% original, ensure you have something to say.

Shine a light on society; explore a balanced argument. Give as much credence to the counter-argument. No one wants to go to the theatre to be educated — not in a preachy way.

Entertain us, and make us learn something about ourselves through your characters’ journeys.

Ready to start writing? Beat that 10-page sift

I hope this article has been useful and inspiring. And I hope you’re chomping at the bit to get writing. But, sometimes, finding the right starting point can be tricky.

And this is why I’ve developed the Finding Starting Points short course, which I’m currently offering for free. In three short sessions, you’ll find a theme, characters with clear objectives, and a dramatic moment with which to burst onto the stage. And you even get an included one-to-one with me.

Or join our new 5-week course, Top of the Stack, and we’ll work together to help your next stage play get the full read it deserves.

Good luck with your writing!

Thanks for reading.