Getting the bad drafts out

As part of the Young Playwrights Programme, we were given the challenge of writing monologues with different challenges. My challenge was to write the monologue creating a character I did not like. Now, I will be honest and admit that when I was given this task, I was very worried. Every time I have tried to write a ‘villain’ of sorts they have always become very pantomime-esque. Too evil or comedic to seem real, and if they are not real, they are not frightening. What, then, is the point of having them? 

A cartoon emoji face with an uncertain expression

So, I started writing and I found myself falling into the same comedic and exaggerated pattern. Although comedic implies funny. They weren’t funny. You know that friend you have that is absolutely hilarious without meaning to be, they just make you laugh? Well, my character wasn’t like that. They weren’t likeable or unlikeable. They were just… well… meh. Just meh. That’s the perfect word to use. I was so frustrated, why couldn’t I just get this right?! It’s not a hard task to do, so why was I failing so many times?

I managed to get the first draft in, but I can honestly say that I hated it. To me, it was absolutely horrendous. But I had to submit something. During one of our sessions, we had the opportunity to hear our work read aloud by another Young Playwright. This was both very exciting and also terrifying! Hearing my work read back to me helped the words come into the real world and off the page, but I also felt really embarrassed as I was almost ashamed of the quality of my work. The group were so lovely and encouraging, they helped me see the good things in my work where I was convinced there was none. It’s such a wonderful group to be a part of, just full of positivity.

An image of two cartoon heads. One with question marks above its head. The other with light bulbs above its head.Then I was asked to complete another draft from the feedback I was given, my newfound positivity waned. I was back to my original pattern again, not knowing how to move the story forward and address the feedback in a clever, original way. I became very disheartened until I looked back on my workshop notes. That’s when I remembered what the fantastic Douglas Maxwell told us in his workshop – write plays for your good friends. The people who make you feel better when you’re around them, who make you feel cleverer and stronger. Write for those people. That’s when I started to think about what interested me, and it was not what I saw on the page.  

So, I scrapped it. It was quite hard to push the delete button, but I think it was necessary. I then found ambient music on YouTube, and just let my hands write. They seemed to know what they were doing even if I did not. What came out was an entirely new monologue, but one that was unique to me and had my voice. This really reinforced the message of trusting in the process of writing and not expecting it to be perfect the first time. Sometimes, you need to get the ‘bad’ pieces out before you can move on, and when you do, you may find something you didn’t quite expect. 

An image of a piece of paper with a rubber, two pencils, and a lightbulb ontop
 

Erin Craighead

Erin is part of the Bunbury Banter Young Playwrights Programme 2020-2021




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