Perhaps I insist too strongly on the advisability of treating a dramatic
theme as clay to be modelled and remodelled, rather than as wood or
marble to be carved unalterably and once for all. If so, it is because
of a personal reminiscence. In my early youth, I had, like everybody
else, ambitions in the direction of play-writing; and it was my
inability to keep a theme plastic that convinced me of my lack of
talent. It pleased me greatly to draw out a detailed scenario, working
up duly to a situation at the end of each act; and, once made, that
scenario was like a cast-iron mould into which the dialogue had simply
to be poured. The result was that the play had all the merits of a
logical, well-ordered essay. My situations worked out like the Q.E.D.'s
of Euclid. My characters obstinately refused to come to life, or to take
the bit between their teeth. They were simply cog-wheels in a
pre-arranged mechanism. In one respect, my two or three plays were
models--in respect of brevity and conciseness.
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