The research is researching me back

There are certain thoughts that should really come with a warning label.

Maybe I will just cut my own fringe.

I bet I could run a half marathon with no training.

And now for me, maybe I could turn my book into a play.

When I first wrote about this little idea, I was still in the early stage of optimism. You know the one. Where your brain thinks this will be a cute side project and not something that takes over your entire search history and slowly becomes your full personality.

Well. Update.

I am officially doing that thing where the research becomes a second job and your partner or friends start hearing phrases like

I cannot talk right now, I am learning what a beat is

I need to check something about scene transitions

No, I cannot just enjoy the evening, I am in my playwright era

I wish I was joking.

I thought I was going to write a play. Turns out, I am currently doing a part time degree in Theatre Things I Did Not Know Existed.

And the deeper I go, the more I realise stage writing is its own language. Books let you live inside someone’s head. Plays demand you show everything with voices, bodies, objects, timing, silence.

And apparently, entrances.

Why are entrances so important. Why does everyone keep entering.

If you have ever wondered what it looks like when a woman tries to adapt her dating life into a script, it is this.

Me on the sofa with a laptop.

Eight tabs open.

Three highlighters.

And a slightly frantic notebook page titled

How to make this make sense on stage without setting myself on fire.

The research spiral has started

Since my last blog I have researched, saved, bookmarked, screenshotted, and mildly panicked over all sorts of things.

What is the difference between a scene and a beat

How long is a one act play

How many pages equals how many minutes

How to write stage directions without sounding like an over controlling lunatic

How to show an internal monologue without, and this is key, a narrator explaining everything nicely for me

I have read interviews with playwrights, watched videos of script readings, and stared at sample scripts until my eyes went blurry.

At one point I found myself reading about how silence works in theatre, which sounds very fancy until you realise I was in my kitchen whispering

So the silence is a line too. The silence is a choice.

This is who I am now.

Suddenly everything is about structure

In my book, I can wander. I can reflect. I can set a scene, take a detour, come back, add a bit of inner chaos, and then land the punchline.

The stage is not like that. The stage is like, ok babes, what is happening right now and why should we care.

So now I am learning about structure.

Acts. Scenes. Turns. Stakes. Pacing.

And the big one.

What does the audience need to feel and when.

Which is both exciting and mildly rude, because it means I have to decide where the laughs go, where the lump in the throat goes, and where the room should go quiet.

I am basically trying to choreograph emotion.

No pressure.

Making a list of what makes it stage worthy

I am also getting stricter with myself about what makes it into the play version.

Some scenes are hilarious on the page but might feel like a long story on stage.

Other moments are made for theatre. The awkward pauses. The deadpan replies. The way someone checks their phone instead of answering a question. The silence that stretches for just long enough that everyone in the room knows what it means.

So my Play material list has evolved. It is no longer just a list.

It is a whole system.

Scenes I know will work

Scenes I suspect will work

Scenes I love but might need to be cut, which I will complain about dramatically

Tiny lines that could become running jokes

Moments of physical comedy that do not exist in the book but absolutely exist in real life

I have also started thinking about how to show things quickly. How to suggest a whole date with a chair, a glass, a handbag, and one line.

It is like writing with fewer words but more meaning.

Which is the polite way of saying it is hard and I keep rewriting the same three pages like a woman possessed.

Every day I learn a new word

I have learned that a beat is not just a thing you do in music.I have learned that a blackout is not just what happens after two large glasses of wine.I have learned that you cannot just say and then they went to the toilet and came back. Apparently that requires thought.

There are also things called buttons, tags, and transitions. And the more I learn, the more I realise why theatre people have that calm look in their eyes.

They know things. They have been through things.

Getting ready to show it to my theatre friend

The best part is that in a few weeks I am meant to be meeting my theatre savvy mum friend for a cuppa. The one who knows about productions and has actual experience of this world.

And I am determined not to turn up with nothing but vibes.

So I have been quietly building something I can slide across the table like a woman presenting evidence.

A few scenes.

A rough structure.

A sense of what the show could be.

Not perfect. Not polished. But real.

I want to be able to say

Here is what I am thinking. Here is the shape of it. Here are the moments I think will land.

And then I want her to look at it and say something reassuring like

Oh yes, this could work.

Not

Helen, please step away from the laptop.

It still feels exciting though

That is the funny thing.

Even when I am overwhelmed by formatting and structure and the fact that every script seems to have its own rules, I still get that little fizz when a scene suddenly feels alive.

When the dialogue lands.

When the timing works.

When I can see it on stage, not just in my head.

It feels like learning a new way to tell the same story.

And after everything that story has already surprised me with, I am starting to think it might have one more version left in it yet.

So yes. I am researching a lot.

And I am also writing. Wobbly and imperfect, but writing.

One scene at a time.

One cuppa away from sharing it with someone who actually knows what she is doing.

And if nothing else, I can confirm this.

It is much easier to write a book than it is to stop yourself opening another tab that says

How to write a play when you are a normal person with no chill.

If you’d like to join me on this rollercoaster, you can download Swipe Right, Keep Left on Kindle now, or if you know someone in theatre, who might be interested in a chat about the stage play version, please send this page to them.