time--unless he is so fortunate as to be a genius. Perhaps the main
difference between the play-writing genius and the rest of us is that he
can associate but briefly with audiences and know it all, whereas we
must spend our lives at it and know but little. I have never happened to
hear of a genius of this description; but that is no argument against
the possibility of his existence.

As to the talented authors of these letters, they know excellently
well--every one of them--how to write a play--or did while still
alive--even tho some of them see fit to deny it; but they cannot tell
_us_ how to do it for the very good reason that it cannot be told.
Their charming efforts to find a way out when cornered by such an
inquiry as appears to have been made to them are surely worth all
their trouble and annoyance--not to speak of their highly
probable exasperation.

William Gillette
(May, 1916)

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How to Write a Play




I.