Sample of published material written by Graham J. Andrews. Excerpt taken from

Published by Currency Press, Sydney

Radio drama enjoyed pre-eminent success and popularity until the 1950s and 1960s when television began to take over as the dominant form of home entertainment. As pictures entered the home for the first time, the superficially inferior medium of radio became marginalised. The fact that modern-day audiences cannot compare in size to those of the heyday of radio doesn’t mean that radio drama isn’t still popular, and that there isn’t an important place for it, even now.

There are many people who still like to hear the occasional repeated episode from ‘Yes What’, or episodes of the serial ‘Cattleman’ that went to air many, many years ago. Only a few years ago a new serial ‘The Castlereagh Line’ made an appearance, and repeats of this can still be heard on some stations - well after its production ceased. A lot of radio listeners grew up with radio dramas and serials, and have fond memories of such entertainment. Radio drama will always have a niche. There will always be times when people want something more involved than the usual rotation play of music. There will always be circumstances when people listen to the radio, either through choice, or because at a particular time they are unable to watch television, for example while tinkering under the bonnet of a car. Radio, including radio drama, keeps motorists company as they drive along lonely highways. Radio drama is no more dead than radio itself! Both are very much alive, and will undoubtedly remain that way.

Some people may not regard the writing of a radio drama to be as glamorous as writing a script for a television audience - partly, perhaps, because of the lack of financial remuneration. But there are rewards to be had in radio drama that can be every bit as significant as those found in writing for any medium, great or small.

WRITING A RADIO DRAMA

In writing radio drama, a very particular approach must be taken to script construction and writing style. This is the distinctive challenge of the art. Like all radio material, radio drama involves the stimulation of the imagination, not the laborious construction of tangible images. With the right sound effects, it is possible to create any sort of illusion. Whatever kind of drama you produce, it must create an image for the listener. That’s the only way to put the action in a setting. It’s possible, like in cinema or television, to place the characters in paradise. With the right sound effects, the right choice of words, it’s possible to transport those characters from paradise to a parched desert island. Add a few sharks for good measure, or a plague of flies. A few appropriate sounds, acting to fit the part, the right dialogue, and there they are, as far as they could be from their paradise.

Many stage producers, actors and writers find that they can express themselves through the arts in a way that they would not otherwise be able to do. Through a performance that has a message, or acting that is convincing, they are able to express their attitudes, beliefs and emotions. Radio drama can have the same benefits. There can be a real message.

Some people express their emotions through anger. Radio can provide an excellent and constructive way to express how and what you feel, how you feel about the government or your workplace conditions.

The dramatic form does not allow for the lengthy scene-setting descriptions or illuminating inner thoughts that often form the backbone of the short story or the novel. Information has to be conveyed through dialogue - and it must not be blatantly obvious that the speaker is simply telling us (the audience) scene setting information that the writer needs to get across. It would sound ridiculous if a character said: ‘I like that blue and white dress you are wearing. You must have paid twenty-five dollars for it.’ Instead, we could have a character say something like: ‘Same dress? I might have known.’ The reply could impart the information about the price of the clothing, and at the same time hint at the wearer’s financial situation: ‘I only had twenty-five dollars to spend. It’s all I could afford.’ It’s not what is said that is important, but rather how the information is conveyed to the listener to create a certain image. With radio, it is important at all times to get the listener to build up a picture in his or her mind of what’s going on, who’s wearing what, the actions of the characters, and what’s happening outside, or even elsewhere in the room.

It would not be realistic to have one character say to another—‘There’s John, who was sitting in the corner on the chair. I am angry that he has just got up.’—and expect listeners to get excited! Instead, information such as this can be conveyed by another character, say his father, shouting at John: ‘Sit in that corner like I told you to, and don’t you move again!’ We now know that John is no longer sitting in the comer, he had been told to do so, and we know that the father is angry. You have to work hard to stimulate another person’s imagination, but it can be done, simply with words—the right words, at the right time, phrased in the right way.

Although the text is the starting point of drama, the tone, or the way the actors say those words is important too. ‘Sit in that corner like I told you to, and don’t you move again’, could be said brusquely, in a kindly manner, or in a nasty, spiteful way. The tone will reflect the type of character saying those words and that character’s present mood.

DRAMATIC TENSION

The two mainstays of radio drama are the characters and the conflict. If one aspect is weak, the whole dramatic structure will collapse. Remove the characters, and naturally there’s no one present to carry the conflict or action. Remove the conflict, and the characters remain quite normal, well-behaved, placid people. To put it another way, if we removed all the conflict from our everyday lives there wouldn’t be much to talk about, would there?

Conflict is caused by all sorts of circumstances arising from everyday situations. It’s often caused by reaction. Conflict is personal—it’s how we react to a given set of circumstances. As a dramatist you must imply why such a set of circumstances leads to a conflict. This can be projected by the behaviour of the characters, by their thoughts, their actions and how and why they think in the particular way that they do. You must explain why they are human - or, perhaps, inhuman.

CHARACTER NUMBERS

In radio drama you can have as many people in a scene as you want. Once again, the secret is in the art of illusion there can be 500 in the crowd, cheering, or 10,000 angry workers booing their employer or their union.

For practical purposes, it’s best to keep the number of speaking characters small. People have a tendency to forget who’s who, lose track of who said what. This sort of confusion will lead to the play falling apart. Six main characters is an optimum number. Think twice before committing yourself to a greater number. If you really feel that you need more characters, maybe add just one more. And try to make them all different, so that each one is easy to identify.

Remember, not all dramas have to involve real people. There’s plenty of scope, given a wild imagination, for out-of-this-world stories. While real life is a ready source of plots and story lines to draw upon, allow you mind to range freely.

DRAMATIC CONFLICT

It is perfectly possible to make a seemingly boring set of circumstances boil with human interest. If you reach a point where your chosen subject matter or set of circumstances don’t seem exciting enough, consider introducing a twist to your original concept or a fresh aspect. It all takes a little imagination—and isn’t that what radio’s all about?

Take, for example, a couple walking along a quiet beach on a sunny spring afternoon. They are holding hands.

Conflict? There is none immediately apparent.

Now introduce another element into this relationship. Let us suppose that the man has a large dog that he adores.

Conflict? Maybe. If his lady friend likes dogs there may be nothing more in this added element than, well, the dog. Now, suppose, the dog puts his paws on the woman’s shoulders and gives her a big lick on the face. Conflict now?

If the woman still loves dogs she will probably ask the dog to get down, and that would be the end of the matter. But let us believe that she trembles whenever she sees such a monstrous beast. Perhaps she was savaged by a dog when she was a small girl, and that trauma has remained with her. Now we are approaching a conflict. There is the dog whom she doesn’t like, and feels threatened by whenever she sees her lover.

Now let us suppose that she tells her friend: ‘Get rid of that dog, or I go.’ Now we’re getting somewhere. There is now a distinct conflict, not only brought on by the dog, but also by an attempted resolution of the conflict.

Such a situation could be resolved in a couple of ways. The man could say, ‘Okay, I’ll send him to a dog’s home tomorrow. Come around for dinner tomorrow night and he won’t be here.’ Such a rapid resolution would be very agreeable in real life, but in the world of drama such a rapid loss of conflict would be bad news indeed. Before we know it the couple are holding hands, and all’s well between them—yawn!

So let’s suppose it isn’t that easy—that the man suffers an internal conflict as to whether he would rather lose his dog or his lover. The reason for this conflict does not have to be explicit. It can be suggested as somewhere distant, or merely just out of view but always lurking.

Returning to the happy couple walking along the beach holding hands; the woman announces that her son by a former marriage has just been expelled from boarding school for bad behaviour, and that from next week he will be living with them—bringing chaos into the home. Conflict? Yes—even though the boy isn’t present. There is the anticipation of conflict—anticipation of what’s to come for both of them.

But it’s not just circumstances that bring on drama and conflict. To some extent conflict is about how individuals perceive their circumstances.

Suppose our male character was extremely tolerant and understanding in his outlook. Because of his temperament and personality there would be no conflict—despite the uncomfortable news about the imminent arrival of the unruly son.

Conflict can also arise when people are plunged, by fate, into unusual and disturbing situations.

A man works in a boring job in the public service, filling out forms. Not really the stuff that blockbuster movies are made from, is it? He knows his job well, and enjoys the security of the mundane existence his job allows him. He is then promoted to a job in, say, the computer area, where he can’t grasp the concepts of this technology, and knows that he will be demoted, or at least reprimanded because of his apparent incompetence. Conflict? Yes, because now we have someone who is out of his familiar environment.

Again, the exact nature of this dramatic situation would depend on the personality of our character. If he were a nervous sort of person, used to being told what and how to do everything, he would feel strange in his new environment and conflict is mainly contained within the internal state of the character in his striving to cope. But if he were an outgoing type, ready to tell the section head how to run his job, the drama would be more likely to arise from external conflict.

CHARACTERS

The way people react to circumstances depends heavily on their individual makeup. In life there are strong men and weak men; strong, domineering woman and those who go along with anything that’s going their way. There are children who naturally fit in with any circumstances, and those who go it alone. There are the smiling, friendly people, and the grumps. There are happy people and there are moody people. This doesn’t mean that you should base all your characters on real people. You will find that invented people are more obliging in a play than disguised characters from real life, because you can make them do exactly what you want them to.

If you want to write good drama, it is important to study the people in your everyday life—analyse the way they behave. How do they act? How do they react to different circumstances? Could you make them act any differently if you tried? Are they likely to say different things to different people, in different ways? Understand people, then you are ready to select your characters, and to invent new ones.

Because there are so many types of people, it should be easy to create characters to fit your situation of conflict. When you are selecting your characters, remember that they must not feel too comfortable with their lot. If they are too comfortable in their roles, the drama dies. If you find that your drama is becoming limp, the only way to breath life back into it, no matter how brilliant your plot, is to replace the character, or characters, that are bringing the play down. So radio drama is like life in that it is a combination of character, setting and action.

SETTING WITH DIALOGUE

Dialogue is the backbone of any play. The words chosen should be just the right ones for every occasion. The dialogue should convey the information in a pithy manner and keep the plot moving forward.

Take the following brief conversation:

NOOLBENGER: What time is it?

CLAXTON: Five minutes past three.

NOOLBENGER: Blast! These trains are always late.

From these few words, we can learn a considerable number of points that are (or at least should be) important to the development of the play. We now know:

• the time of day

• that Noolbenger doesn’t have a watch

• that Noolbenger is impatient

• that the two characters are at a railway station

• lastly, I suppose one could facetiously believe that the railway station is on a Victorian line.

It is particularly important to establish the setting - the place, people’s dress, activities that are going on around the characters—in the listener’s mind. Unlike prose, where external description, narration and internal monologue can be given free rein, the radio play must rely more heavily on dialogue for dramatic setting. This does not imply that characters have to state the obvious. For example—‘We have waited at this railway station in Victoria for ten minutes ... it is now five minutes past three, and I think the train is late.’

Always stimulate the listener’s imagination. Allow the listener to fill in the setting ... Build up a picture, bit by bit, by implication. Let the listeners do some of the work!

Consider a description of a run-down and deserted factory or warehouse. If you just have one of your characters saying, ‘this is terrible, and I don’t like if, you won’t create much of an image, and it will do nothing to engage the listener’s interest. But you could develop these same points using simple dialogue. If you had one character criticising the building and perhaps another character adding his ha’penny worth, it is possible to convey the setting in a more dynamic way. Take a real estate agent, Jones, a prospective lessee, Henry, and a mate of his, Jack:

HENRY: Looks like the paint manufacturer went out of business too, long ago.

JONES: Oh, I’m sure a new coat of paint would work wonders. Perhaps if you take a long lease, I may even suggest to the owner that he repaint the outside. It would make the place look so much nicer, I’m sure.

JACK: Yea. I’m sure.

JONES: Oh, yes, [laughing] I see what you mean. Flakes of paint. Oh, I’m sure I could put pressure on the owner to do something about that. These premises have been vacant for quite some time, you know. I’m sure he would be pleased to oblige.

This now creates in the mind of the listener a picture of how dilapidated the building is.

Let’s look at what might be inside this warehouse that we are creating. The use of a narrator to describe the setting would not be appropriate, but there is nothing wrong with, say, the real estate agent pointing out some of the features of the building, as well as reinforcing perhaps an earlier statement that he made regarding the country’s economy:

JONES: Would you like to have a look around the outside first? As you can see, there is ample parking space for several vehicles. The large door gives you easy access to the work area.

[SFX: Opening metal door]

Of course, there’s a telephone on the premises, and that is essential for any business. It will have to be reconnected. It was cut off when the previous tenants moved out. I understand they were unable to pay their bills. But of course, Telecom...

SETTING WITH SOUND EFFECTS

Alongside dialogue perhaps the most effective way of building up images in the listener’s mind is by the use of sound effects. Appropriate effects can either add to features brought out in dialogue, or speak for themselves. For example, the sound of an old-fashioned cash register’s bell alerts the listener to the fact that a purchase is being made. The whistle and puffing of a steam train convey the setting of a railway line or station.

If you are creating your own sound effects for your drama, you might have to experiment. A dead prawn being thrown into a bucket of water may well not sound anything like a prawn thrashing around in water. If you need the sound of a prawn in water, you may find that a beef sausage dropped into the bucket sounds more like the prawn.

Some sounds are irritating if overdone. If your drama is set on a moving train, it’s fine to set the scene with the sound of the train clickity-clacking along the steel rails but imagine one hour of that noise behind the dialogue! The drama might have to be transferred into a quieter carriage. The same problem would arise with, say, a waterfall. Keep the setting near the waterfall, but just around the comer where the sound isn’t so offensive. You can easily move your characters out of the noisy area:

CLARKE: C’mon, let’s move out of this damn noisy valley.

SUZY: Okay. It’s quieter just beyond those rocks over there.

Cutting from one scene to another is another way to give your listeners a break from monotonous, and distracting background noise.

There are some activities that don’t really create sounds at all, such as walking in soft sand. But this doesn’t mean that such situations have to be devoid of all scene-setting sound. Think about what other sounds people might hear while they are walking along the beach. There will be the sound of the surf and the calling of sea birds. But, be careful not to overdo it, or the result might be similar to those cheap Hollywood movies where there might be one bird in the distance accompanied by the sound of a flock of angry seagulls attacking the actor!

Always remember that sounds on a recorder do not always sound like the real thing. Experiment with sound. Great sound effects can be created by the most unlikely combinations—running a card along the teeth of a comb, or scratching in gravel might duplicate the sounds you are trying to create.

There are some good sources of realistic sound effects available if you are prepared to look for them. It is possible to buy sound effects recordings in most formats. These can take the worry out of creating appropriate sounds for your action - as long as they are played at the right volume, for the necessary duration.

Fading a sound up and down is often used to good effect for a character approaching some action. For example, if a character is running to catch a train, you could fade the sound of the train whistle up over the sound of running footsteps to indicate the approach of the train and the urgency of the situation.

A WORKED EXAMPLE—BUSINESS AS USUAL

The following excerpts from a proposed radio drama, relate to three young men who are unemployed, but let us never make it so obvious in the dialogue that we have someone asking – ‘Jack ... why are you out of work?’ Let’s be more subtle than that. From the following excerpt we soon learn that:

• the characters are at an employment office

• they are all out of work

• they have been unemployed for a long time

• there are few prospects of work for any of them in the immediate future

• Jack and Sam are careless in their personal habits and are not very bright

• Henry shows a degree of initiative and is the leader of the three.

Note how the sound effects put the main characters Jack, Sam and Henry - in an appropriate setting as we listen to their conversation. The effect of the clerk calling numbers is to create in the listener’s imagination the illusion of an office; her voice need not be loud, and so it is appropriate to have her voice ‘Off’ meaning ‘off mic’, or apparently distant from the microphone.

FEMALE VOICE: [Off] Number thirty-seven.

HENRY: What number are you?

SAM: Number thirty-seven.

HENRY: You’d better get up there and see what she wants then, hadn’t you? Eh?

SAM: Yeah. S’pose so.

HENRY: And tidy yourself up. You’ll have more chance of getting yourself a job if you look human.

FEMALE VOICE: [Off] Number thirty-eight.

MALE VOICE: [Off] And number forty-one.

SAM: [to HENRY] Yeah. S’pose.

[Pause as SAM gets up to see the clerk]

HENRY: I don’t reckon he’s even trying. He’s always like that. Should take pride in himself.

JACK: Yeah. You been up?

HENRY: Yeah. I was first here today. Real keen I was.

FEMALE VOICE: [Off] Number thirty-three.

HENRY: Want some gum?

JACK: Yeah. Thanks.

[SFX: Chewing gum being unwrapped and wrapper screwed up.]

HENRY: Don’t throw the damn paper behind your chair. Pick it up. Make the place look tidy. Show some respect.

JACK: Yeah.

[SFX: Footsteps approaching, then stopping. A chair creaks.]

HENRY: How did you go?

SAM: Same as usual.

HENRY: Want some gum?

SAM: Yeah.

[SFX: Chewing gum being unwrapped.]

HENRY: And don’t throw the paper behind the chair. Keep the place looking respectable.

Here, the plot does not develop further. However, this short interchange does convey an image of the characters, with their slovenly habits. And it is, after all, the characters who create the circumstances for themselves. Change the characters, and invariably you will change their circumstances. So character development in addition to plot (or action) is essential. It would be disappointing if the whole setting were provided within the first few sentences of dialogue. Develop the setting bit by bit. Drama must be carefully paced.

We don’t have the resources available to a writer of prose for describing the town in which Jack, Henry and Sam live. In a book, the author can talk about the smallness of the country town, its tree-lined streets, its decline over recent times, and the demise of many of its businesses. With radio drama, it is, nevertheless, fairly easy to subtly introduce such descriptions into the dialogue as events develop. In the story of the three young unemployed men, this insight is provided by Henry’s belief that there are still several real estate agents operating; Sam, correcting him, provides the listener with the details he or she needs, to build on the image already created.

HENRY: We’ll go around and see a couple of the real estate fellas in town. We’ll see if they’ve got a place we could have, real cheap.

SAM: That shouldn’t take long. To see all the real estate blokes in town, I mean. There’s only one left here. The other fellas went out of business. They didn’t get enough customers like us.

HENRY: We’ll see the one who’s left then. Finish your beers and we’ll get going.

All descriptions must be built up gradually in the listener’s mind. See how many facts are uncovered in the next short dialogue, and the importance of sound effects.

[SFX: Two car doors slam shut. A car is push-started.]

SAM: I reckon the old girl needs some rings. I hope Henry buys a new one in his new managerial position.

JACK: [coughing] Port Kembla’s got nothing on this old chimney stack.

[SFX: Engine roars. Car doors slam shut. Car accelerates.]

From this we learn that:

• one of them (Henry) has plans for a business venture

• Henry’s car is old

• it won’t start

• the engine is worn out, and it burns oil.

Dialogue should be made to sound human. In real conversation, people seldom keep to the point; they break off sentences, get sidetracked, come back to the main drive of their speech. Natural-sounding dialogue can mirror these interjections and side-steps, but without wasting valuable time and words. The dialogue should advance the plot in a common direction. In the next excerpt of dialogue, note how Jones breaks off his conversation and asks the three men to pull up a chair and sit down. Such events are not really important to the development of the story, but brief diversions like this add a human quality to the characters.

Returning to our play we learn about Henry’s plans for a business endeavour. In the following pieces of dialogue, we gain a better insight into:

• the dubious nature of the scheme

• the doubts that Sam and Jack have for Henry’s business abilities

• the nature of their business venture.

JONES: Can I help you?

HENRY: Yeah. We’re looking for a cheap place.

JONES: For yourselves? To live in?

HENRY: No. To start up a repair shop.

JONES: I see. And what exactly did you have in mind? Please sit down. There’s another chair behind you, sir. That’s right, just pull that one up to the desk.

[SFX: Chairs being arranged.)

JONES: Now, what exactly were you gentlemen after?

HENRY: Oh, something cheap. Small, probably.

Interest is generated in the listener’s mind as they wonder whether these three scruffies could indeed succeed in business under such difficult economic conditions.

The true nature of the main characters does not have to be revealed at the very beginning of a drama. It is better to let this unfold as the story develops. Let factual information fall into place where it feels right—and that’s not always at the beginning. The following piece of dialogue could appear after fifteen or twenty minutes of action, and certainly after the main background has been developed that is we have learned that the three young men have plans for some venture. Don’t spoil a good story by parting with too much information too early in the action. Let it develop and be revealed progressively.

JONES: I see. I see. Perhaps if you could tell me a little bit more about your requirements, I might be able to help you.

HENRY: Yeah, well. We’re all tradesmen, you see. And we want to open a workshop. You know, work together. That sort of thing. We reckon if we all go in together, we can cut costs.

SAM: We might all go in together, if Henry’s running the show.

HENRY: Don’t take any notice of me mates. They’re always clowning around.

Previous conceptions about the situation in the town the lack of work and the downturn in the local economy are reinforced, reminding the listeners of the reason for the setting up of the business and the reasons why the three of them are out of work in the first place.

JONES: I’ll see just what we can do to help you—I’ll just look through my listings.

[SFX. Cards being shuffled]

You must realise, of course, that since the downturn in the economy over the past year, there are a lot more premises available than there were some time back.

HENRY: Yeah.

JONES: A lot of businesses have gone broke. Very unfortunate. Very sad. For the people, for the town, for everyone. The banks even ...

HENRY: Yeah. We’re just starting out, so we’ll handle things different to the way the other fellas ran their businesses. We know what we’re doing.

The scene changes as the characters leave the real estate office and travel to the warehouse where Jones shows the three men the workshop. The sound effects, the car being started then accelerating, then a pause, followed by the car slowing down and stopping, let the listener know that a period of time has lapsed—one in which nothing much has happened, and certainly nothing that would have advanced the story.

SAM: We travel in style today. Wish the boss would buy something decent like this for each of us.

HENRY: Get in!

[SFX: Car doors slam. Car motor starts, then accelerates. Hold then fade to out. Fade up engine noise, hold, then car slows down and stops.]

A contrast in attitudes, even between different types of people, can be enhanced by a criticism of one by the other. Indeed, a contrast in characters adds interest and dramatic tension.

[SFX: Inside moving car.]

JACK: I couldn’t be bothered doing the gardens like all these people do.

SAM: Probably they’re all retired. Nothing else to do with their time.

JACK: No. Guess not.

SAM: I couldn’t be bothered cutting lawns, or pulling weeds out of the ground, or... or ... cutting the bushes, and things like that.

JACK: Naw. I guess we’re all different... I mean, us three. We’ve got lots to do. Probably we’re more interesting than most people.

To illustrate difference and tension further, consider the following contrast in types of people—the three scruffies, and Henry’s parents who are depicted here as an average, middle-class couple. Note how the sound effects add to the information available to the listener.

MR SIMPSON: It’s good to see you all, lads. Come inside and have a cup of tea. Your mother’s in the kitchen, Henry.

[SFX. Footsteps on gravel. Wooden door closes. Footsteps to out.]

SAM: No beer? He’s a bit of a...

MR SIMPSON: Well, lads, sit down. Sit down. Mum’s in the kitchen making the tea for you now.

SAM: Ah. I need this rest. Been workin’ real hard today.

MR SIMPSON: Huh! It’s probably the change of pace that’s made you tired, Sam. Well, lad, let’s hear the reason for this honoured visit.

HENRY: Well Dad, we’ve decided that ... that is, Sam, Jack, and me ... we’ve decided to start up our own business. We were wondering if you could help us?

MR SIMPSON: Don’t mumble so much, lad. Now speak up. I thought you said you wanted some money.

[SFX: Teapot and cups carried on a tray.]

MRS SIMPSON: Help yourselves to sugar and milk, lads. You’ll get no servants around here.

[SFX: Tea poured into cups. Cups rattle as they are handed around.]

MR SIMPSON: Well, lad, out with it.

Again, contrasting attitudes add information about the characters and the plot. Consider now what Henry’s mother and father think about their son:

MRS SIMPSON: Oh, I’m so glad, dear, that you have agreed to help them out. I think your generosity is going to make the world of difference to their futures. I’m so proud of our Henry. That’s what I’ve always said about him. Deep down, he’s really ambitious. He does so much want to work. The dole’s not the thing for boys like Henry who have so much going for them.

MR SIMPSON: Huh!

MRS SIMPSON: Now that’s not really necessary. It’s a pity that you don’t share the faith in our Henry and his friends that I’ve got.

MR SIMPSON: Huh!

HENRY: Gee, thanks Mum. Thanks.

A change of scene can be achieved in a number of ways. One is to fade out the dialogue, pause, then fade up the next piece of dialogue. Another effective way of changing scene, is to have characters leaving the scene and doing something else.

MR SIMPSON: I’ll get back to my roses. I’ve got a lot of pruning to do before the weekend’s over. You will have to excuse me.

MRS SIMPSON: And I must get on with my chores around the house too. I must admit, Henry, that my job is much easier now that you’ve found your own flat to live in.

Don’t make dialogue that serves as scene changes too long, unless it develops the action further.

Attitudes can reinforce ideas. Let’s listen in on a brief conversation, tinged with heavy scepticism, between Sam and Jack about Henry’s plans to create work.

JACK: Have a job. By Monday morning. Create work. How do you reckon he’ll create work?

SAM: Don’t know. If there’s no work around, we can’t do the stuff. The employment mob can’t find us any. The government can’t create work.

JACK: Yeah. They reckon they can. For seven years the prime minister reckoned that he had been tryin’ to create work. Or so he reckoned. He used to say he’d created more th’n a million jobs in that time.

SAM: Yeah. I know what you mean. Really.

JACK: Yeah. Really. Now listen... There was half a million of us fellas out of work when he got in a few years ago. Now there’s a million of us out of work. So, where’s these million jobs he’s created? I ask you that.

SAM: Yeah. Know what you mean.

JACK: I reckon when they create a million and two jobs, the extra two jobs might be ours. Perhaps the government can give our mate here some clues about how he should go about creating work for us, in the meantime.

HENRY: I’ll do that by using my initiative. That’s because you two don’t have any ability of your own.

Contrasting attitudes tend to reinforce the theme of a drama. So far we have seen three scruffies trying to set up their own business. Now consider a completely contrasting outlook. In the next scene, with Henry, Sam and Jack listening in the background, the contrasting attitudes are displayed by people who are in good jobs, yet cannot be bothered with people who are less fortunate than themselves.

SHIRE PRESIDENT: Well, gentlemen, do we have any more business to discuss this evening? Rex? You would like to say something? Make it snappy, please. I’m in a hurry tonight.

COUNCILLOR COX: Thank you, Mr President. There’s just one point that has been brought up during the past couple of weeks, and that is the situation regarding the unemployment problem in this town. The public seems to think we should be doing something more about it.

SHIRE PRESIDENT: Ahhr. They’re always thinking we should be doing everything around here. What are we supposed to be? God? Or higher than Him? It’s not our problem.

COUNCILLOR COX: There is an election coming up at the end of the year. Perhaps if we could at least look as if we were concerned ...

SHIRE PRESIDENT: Concerned! Concerned! I’m not concerned. Are you concerned, Cox?

COUNCILLOR COX: Well, no, not really.

SHIRE PRESIDENT: Is anyone here concerned? (Pause] See, Cox. We’re not concerned.

COUNCILLOR COX: I just thought, sir, that ...

SHIRE PRESIDENT: Then don’t think, Cox. Concentrate on the important issues. If those lazy bums out there helped themselves more than they do at present, there’d be no problem. No problem, Cox. Did you hear that? Anyway, it will go away.

[SFX OFF: Mumblings.]

SHIRE PRESIDENT: They’re lazy. They don’t want to work. Forget them. Let them look after themselves. Let Social Security look after them. Let the government look after them. That’s why we vote for a government—to help people who can’t be bothered helping themselves.

[SFX OFF: Mumblings.]

SHIRE PRESIDENT: Does anyone have any further business to discuss? I’m referring to important business, this time. Important business, Cox.

[SFX OFF: Mumblings.]

SHIRE PRESIDENT: Then let’s adjourn until the thirtieth of next month. I’ve got a dinner engagement to go to, and I don’t want to be late.

SCRIPT PRESENTATION

Now that we’ve looked at different aspects of script and character development, let’s look at the final aspect—how to present the script for maximum readability.

On the first page of your script you should include a list of the characters. Keep character descriptions down to one or two sentences.

MAIN CHARACTERS

HENRY Late twenties, scruffy appearance, panel beater by trade, unemployed.

SAM A scruffy type, mid-twenties, a glazier, but unemployed for some time.

JACK Another scruffy type, a plumber by trade, mid-twenties, unemployed.

 

MINOR CHARACTERS

MR JONES A real estate agent, aged in his fifties, well educated.

MR SIMPSON Henry’s father, aged in his early sixties, retired, middle class.

MRS SIMPSON Henry’s mother, late fifties or so.

SHIRE PRESIDENT Well educated, arrogant man, aged in his late fifties.

COUNCILLOR COX Educated, shows compassion in his manner, aged in his forties.

The script should be set out clearly - very clearly - so that the actors can find their parts easily. The dialogue should be double spaced, with a wide left-hand margin. The characters’ names should go in this margin. Specific stage directions should be included at the beginning of each scene. Most actors need directions, particularly those in community radio—only the real professionals, for example on the ABC, could do without specific instructions.

The script should be typed clearly on one side of A4 paper. Use a good-quality bond paper, one that doesn’t rustle as the pages of script are peeled off from the top of the pile. Rustling pages would probably not contribute much to the desired sound effects.

If you have produced your script using a word processor or computer, then alterations can be made easily. If you used a typewriter, be prepared to retype a lot of pages so there are no alterations or deletions on the final copy.

If a piece of dialogue is ten lines long, keep all ten lines together on the one page. This will help the actors to make the dialogue flow smoothly, without hesitation.

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