I was never troubled by
the necessity of cutting down--so cruel a necessity to many
playwrights.[6] My difficulty was rather to find enough for my
characters to say--for they never wanted to say anything that was not
strictly germane to the plot. It was this that made me despair of
play-writing, and realize that my mission was to teach other people how
to write plays. And, similarly, the aspirant who finds that his people
never want to say more than he can allow them to say--that they never
rush headlong into blind alleys, or do things that upset the balance of
the play and have to be resolutely undone--that aspirant will do well
not to be over-confident of his dramatic calling and election. There may
be authors who can write vital plays, as Shakespeare is said (on rather
poor evidence)[7] to have done, without blotting a line; but I believe
them to be rare. In our day, the great playwright is more likely to be
he who does not shrink, on occasion, from blotting an act or two.
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