"It takes a heap of time to write a hull play, Frank," said Ephraim. "I've heerd haow some of them fellers that write 'em take a hull year on one single play."
"That is right; but there are others."
"Whut, do it in less time?"
"Yes."
"An' make good ones?"
"Yes; some successful plays have been written in a very few days. All the same, I do not expect to accomplish such a feat. I believe I have hit on a fine plot for a good society comedy-drama, and now I am working up the situations and climaxes. I have all the central characters named and their peculiarities jotted down opposite their names. See, here is a mass of notes on the piece. I shall not be able to work in all that stuff. Much of it will be thrown away or altered. Some of these situations that now seem so good I shall have to abandon, I suppose, for it is not likely I can work them all into the piece in a consistent manner."
"Waal, I don't s'pose yeou're goin' to give up everything else an' set daown an' go to writin' plays, be ye?"
"Not much!" laughed Frank. "I am not quite daffy, Ephraim. Lots of fellows have done that—and been sorry for it afterward. A man is foolish to give up any kind of steady paying work and attempt to make a living out of playwriting till he knows his ground and has plenty of money to live on comfortably for a good long time. Some fellows have given up good jobs after making a success of their first play, but in four cases out of five they regretted that they did not stick to their jobs and write plays on the side."
"On der vich side?" asked Hans, thickly.
"On the right side," smiled Frank. "No one wants to be left."