The Fruits of Playwriting Exercise #41 (part 2)
Developing a Mark Ravenhill writing exercise into a short play.
In early September I randomly selected one of Mark Ravenhill’s 101 Playwriting Exercises to see if it could help me get writing again. I attempted exercise #41 which was to think of a scene you want to write and then write all the actions of a scene without writing any dialogue. I found this exercise really useful and it gave me a solid foundation for developing a scene.
At the time of working on the exercise, I had written almost nothing in the last ten months, and I had certainly not completed the first draft of anything. But the writing exercise was a real inspiration, and within a month I have a first draft of a short play. It’s incredible to think that sitting down and working on an exercise for just twenty minutes gave me the motivation to write more than I’d managed in the previous year.
I don’t claim that the work is good. And it’s only a first draft. But I now have something that simply did not exist only thirty days ago. I’m particularly concerned about the ending, which seems to drag on for too long…
Here’s the completed first draft! I don’t have a title yet - perhaps this suggests that I haven’t yet figure out the theme or the central image…
1.
[NEIL walks onto the stage, dragging one leg as he walks.]
NEIL. Waiting. Watching. Waiting. I wait without hope and watch you sleep a sleep that you never asked for. Sleep without tiredness. Dreaming of thick, grey smoke. I think back to all the other sleeps. Lying on my chest. Stirring with red cheeks and sweaty hair. Now I wait in a thick despair and paint you in my mind’s eye, choking towards darkness. An anhiliation but not yet annihilated. I watch without hope. Hoping yet. The little girl who kissed me goodnight and kissing each of her soft toys. Turning on your night light and saying see you in the morning. Night-night, sweetheart, see you tomorrow. And now I watch you on this hospital bed, sleeping this sleep that I’ve forced upon you, and all the memories return with unbearable clarity. I told you there are no monsters and you needn’t be afraid. I told you that you would always be safe with me.Waiting all night in this hard chair, ashamed to even notice the discomfort. Waiting and knowing. This will not go unpunished.
[NEIL pulls a stocking over his face.]
2.
[Living Room. Sorta studenty. STEPH walks in from
the kitchen wearing a face peel and a hairband – bag of Haribo and a can of Coke in one hand holding a phone against her ear with the other hand. She talks as she walks and slams down onto the sofa.]
STEPH. There are no jobs here. The job coach – yeah, they actually call them that – is up my arse getting me to volunteer. What’s the point? Not one fucking interview. I just send CVs into the void and that’s all she wrote. This is to get jobs in cafes and bars. There’s nothing out there. This town is not for living in. Anyway, screw all that, I’ve ordered a pizza that I can’t afford and I’m watching a film. I say I’m watching a film. I’ll probably end up doomscrolling all night. I need to stop that shit. Makes me feel like I’ve just been dumped. The same depressed, worthless feeling. As if I can even remember it. Maybe that’s why I do it. God. Being dumped would be progress. Better binned off than this fucking wasteland. Anyway, screw all that, I’m in jammies and I’ve taken my make-up off and I’m wearing a facemask. I’m going to fuck it all off for one night and start manifesting again in the morning. Sure. Sure. Yeah. Have fun at Level 41. Ha. Yeah, right. I’ll text you in the morning.
[STEPH puts the phone down. She starts messing about
with the TV remote. Doorbell rings. She gets up and answers
the door.
NEIL barges into the room, stocking over his face. He is holding
A knife.]
NEIL. Where is he?
STEPH. Hey. What the hell-
NEIL. Quiet. Stop shouting. Sit down.
[He points the knife at STEPH. She puts her hand in
the air and gingerly walks back across the room and onto
the sofa.]
STEPH. I don’t have any money. I don’t even have a job.
NEIL. I don’t want any money. Where is he?
STEPH. Have you got the wrong address?
NEIL. I’m looking for Morris. Where is he?
STEPH. Who?
NEIL. He lives here.
STEPH. I’m the only one who lives here.
NEIL. You’re Steph.
STEPH. Okay. Yeah. I’m Steph. Stephanie. But no one lives here.
NEIL. I need to see your brother. Don’t say who.
STEPH. He doesn’t live here.
NEIL. I’m not going to hurt you. But I will if I have to.
STEPH. I don’t know where he is. If you know Morris then you know he could be anywhere.
NEIL. Suggest something.
[Doorbell rings.]
NEIL. Stay there. Don’t say a word.
[NEIL limps to the door. He returns with two large pizzas.]
NEIL. All for you?
STEPH. They’re on offer. Two for twenty pounds.
NEIL. You sure you’re not sharing?
STEPH. Help yourself.
NEIL. Not me.
STEPH. Already full up on your chip supper, are you?
NEIL. What?
STEPH. I know you. You’re the guy from the chip shop.
NEIL. What chip shop?
STEPH. I recognise you. The stocking isn’t helping.
NEIL. Give me your phone.
STEPH. Please don’t steal my phone. I told you I’ve got no money. I’m jobless. My life’s on that phone.
NEIL. I’m going to call Morris.
STEPH. This is ridiculous. If you knew Morris you’d know he never answers his phone.
NEIL. He doesn’t answer when I call. But maybe for you he will. Call him. Tell him to come over. Tell him it’s an emergency or something.
STEPH. Sure. Whatever.
[STEPH makes the call. A phone starts ringing from an adjacent room.
STEPH and NEIL look in the direction of the ringtone noise.
MORRIS sticks his head into the room with the phone against his
ear.]
MORRIS. Hello?
STEPH. Morris. You need to come over. It’s an emergency or something.
MORRIS. Cool. I’ll be right with you.
[MORRIS and STEPH put down their phones.]
STEPH. You’ve got a visitor.
MORRIS. So I see.
NEIL. Your sister’s a liar. She said she had no idea where you were.
MORRIS. I literally just stepped in through the back door.
STEPH. Why the hell is the guy from the chip shop here and pointing a knife at me?
MORRIS. And why’s he wearing a stocking over his head?
[NEIL removes the stocking.]
MORRIS. He must be here to pay the rest of the money he owes me.
NEIL. You’ve killed my daughter.
[NEIL charges at MORRIS with the knife. MORRIS blocks him and the knife falls to the ground. The two men then grapple and also fall to the floor. NEIL tries to pull the stocking around MORRIS’ neck.
STEPH pulls them apart. She has grabbed the knife and points
it at the two men.]
STEPH. Sit down. Both of you sit right down.
MORRIS. He’s cut my arm.
STEPH. It’s a scratch.
MORRIS. Come on, sis, you’re supposed to be on my side.
STEPH. I’m on my side. That’s it. Do I need to call the police?
[NEIL has his head in his hands.]
MORRIS. I don’t think that will be necessary.
STEPH. Why has my night of rest and relaxation been turned into a cage fight?
MORRIS. What’s he doing? He’s not crying, is he?
NEIL. I paid this idiot to burn down my chip shop last weekend. But this idiot did it on the Friday when my daughter was in the flat upstairs.
MORRIS. Friday is the weekend.
NEIL. How is Friday the weekend?
MORRIS. Friday night is.
NEIL. If I’d wanted it done on Friday I would’ve said Friday.
MORRIS. I did exactly what you asked. I thought, busy Friday night, staff are tired and want to rush home, and that’s when mistakes happen. I was concocting a whole series of events.
NEIL. You’ve concocted a fucking murder.
MORRIS. Whoa there, Mr Chips, you need to relax. I didn’t murder anyone. I didn’t know she was in there.
NEIL. I’ll have to tell the police.
MORRIS. No no no. You need to get a grip.
[NEIL takes a lighter from his pocket.]
NEIL. I can’t imagine it. The heat.
[NEIL holds his hand over the flame for a long as he can – which isn’t very long.]
MORRIS. It wouldn’t be like that. The smoke would knock her out. It would’ve been peaceful. Like a nice sleep.
STEPH. Morris, you’ve killed someone – it’s not a nice fucking sleep.
MORRIS. It was an accident.
NEIL. I didn’t think you’d actually do it.
MORRIS. You paid me.
NEIL. Even then I thought you’d just keep the money. What could I do if you did?
MORRIS. Oh, that’s nice, isn’t it? You think I’m some crook who’d just steal your money.
NEIL. You are a crook. An arsonist.
MORRIS. You’re the crook. You’re the one without morals. And you’ve only paid me half. I want the rest of my money.
NEIL. You’ve got to be kidding.
STEPH. There’s something wrong with the pair of you. Why did you do it?
MORRIS. I needed the money. The Codfather made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse.
STEPH. You’re being a jerk.
NEIL. And I asked him because I’d lost my mind. What an idiot.
STEPH. This pizzas getting cold.
[STEPH peels off her face-mask and takes a slice of pizza.
MORRIS also takes a slice.]
NEIL. The bills were stacking up. I didn’t know what to do.
STEPH. And then you did know what to do? To burn the place down.
NEIL. Two pizzas for twenty quid. You pay the same for cod and chips twice. People expect chip shop to be a cheap tea. But it just isn’t any more. Oil’s gone up. Fish have gone up. Energy’s gone up. Now potatoes have gone up. Up to your elbows in batter six nights a week and you can’t even turn a profit. The bills were stacking up. I was going to lose the business, my house, everything.
STEPH. You have a house?
NEIL. Not for much longer.
STEPH. You have a business and you have a house?
NEIL. Just about.
STEPH. And a flat above the chip shop?
NEIL. That’s burnt down now.
STEPH. Me and Morris have precisely fuck all between us. No job. A scuzzy flat that I couldn’t afford to pay the rent on even when I had a job. Weekly humiliations at the job centre. I buy out of date food from the discount shop. And you’re sitting there giving me a sob story about how hard you’re having it.
NEIL. And now my daughter’s lying in a hospital bed and I’ve no idea if I’ll ever see her again.
MORRIS. I don’t think you’re likely to see her again.
NEIL. And whose fault is that? If she doesn’t wake from this coma I’ll be back and I swear I’ll kill you.
STEPH. Settle down.
MORRIS. Hold on - back up, Mr Chips. You told me your daughter was already dead. What game are you playing here? You’ve made me feel terrible.
NEIL. You should feel terrible.
MORRIS. You should be more precise. I was traumatized.
NEIL. You’re a monster.
MORRIS. You started this business. You should look at yourself instead of making me the scapegoat. I mean, your poor daughter… we had a lousy father ourselves, didn’t we Steph? We know all about lousy fathers. We know a lousy father when we see one.
STEPH. That’s right.
NEIL. He had a heart attack right there in William Hill. Collapsed into the fruit machine. A somewhat fitting final embrace.
STEPH. Because it wouldn’t have come from us, you see? He went his grave knowing how much he’d let his children down. And that is not a good feeling. I’d hate your daughter to feel that way towards you, Mr Chip.
NEIL. It’s Chips.
STEPH. Chips. So it’s be better if she never found out about any of this. We’re all praying that she pulls through. We’re rooting for her. And when she does – I know she will because I’m going to manifest and send it right out there into the universe. And when she does, you can start paying me some regular, cash-in-hand, hush-money.
MORRIS. And you’ll pay me the rest of the money you owe me.
NEIL. That’s – I don’t have any money. I’ve just told you.
STEPH. Go back to that hospital and pray your little angel opens her eyes again. Sell the house, sell the business, get a second job at the Esso garage. Do whatever it takes to pay the hush money each month, and be grateful that you’re spending your days with your beautiful daughter.
MORRIS. I think that concludes the meeting.
STEPH. You can pop off now.
NEIL. You won’t get away with this. You’re sick. The pair of you are sick.
[NEIL exits.]
MORRIS. Goodbye, Mr Chips. Nice one, sis.
[MORRIS holds up a hand for a high five. STEPH ignores him.]
MORRIS. Hey, partner, what’s wrong?
STEPH. What’s wrong? A lunatic turns up at my house waving a knife and then I find out that you’ve set a chip shop on fire and you’ve put a girl in hospital and she might even die and you ask me what’s wrong?
MORRIS. Yeah. I assume it was all a bit of a surprise for you. But you were great. And we’re goin to make some good money out of this.
STEPH. We?
MORRIS. What does that mean?
STEPH. This is my deal. I don’t have to share it with you.
MORRIS. I’m your brother.
[Smoke starts to trickle into the room.]
STEPH. Exactly. So I’ve done a nice thing by not asking for hush money from you as well, right?
MORRIS. Oh come on…
STEPH. You see my point, right?
MORRIS. That guy won’t just pay up without a little intimidation. He’ll try to squirm out of it. I can help with that. How about 40-60 in your favour?
STEPH. Can you smell that?
MORRIS. There’s smoke. Coming under the front door.
[Smoke fills the room. Fire alarm starts.]
MORRIS. He is such an arsehole.
STEPH. We need to get out of here.
MORRIS. Oh shit.
STEPH. What?
MORRIS. There’s smoke coming from the kitchen too. I don’t know how we’re goin to get out.
STEPH. (coughing) Get a saucepan. Fill it with water.
[Phone starts ringing. STEPH answers.]
STEPH. Hello? What the hell have you done, you maniac?
NEIL. (voice on phone) I’ve called the fire brigade for you. I noticed a fire. I don’t think I want to pay your hush money Steph – I guess we can discuss it in the hospital.
[Sirens in the background.]
Curtain