Authors Electric

In the theatre, masks worn by skilled actors can be even more expressive than real faces. War Horse on stage was infinitely superior to the screen version because of the magic of the puppetry. Theatre has its own reality which draws on elements different from those of the everyday. And one of its masks is language. Othello’s wrong when he claims ‘It is not words that shake me thus’ because they’re exactly the things that show us his disintegration from: Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, th' ear-piercing fife; The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! to: Lie with her? lie on her? We say “lie on her” when they belie her! Lie with her—that’s fulsome. Handkerchief—confessions—handkerchief! To confess, and be hanged for his labor. First to be hanged, and then to confess—I tremble at it. Nature would not invest herself in such shadowing passion without some instruction. It is not word...

Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons That word ‘Introduction’ is a bit ominous, isn’t it? Especially in a blog about writing for the theatre posted by a novelist. But as I started it, I realised there was far too much for one post, so there'll be a follow-up. Anyway, in my defence, before the novels and short stories, I wrote radio and stage plays and I’ve also been involved in theatre as actor and director. In fact, it was as I was writing my latest, 100,000-word novel that I realised I was using a lot of dialogue to tell the story, perhaps going back to my roots. Whatever the reason, it reminded me of a talk I gave to a writers’ group several years ago on the subject of writing for the theatre. I was introduced, walked to the lectern, sorted out my notes and looked at the audience. And I continued looking. In silence. Then I looked at my notes again. Then back at them. It was all very uncomfortable but, despite the fact that one of the critics in Stoppard’s The Real Inspecto...