Here’s the thing about writing plays…
It was 2018. I’d just returned to NYC after playing Charlotte Lucas in a production of Pride and Prejudice at a theater in Virginia. By the time the contract had ended, I’d decided to write a play about Charlotte that would reverse the feeling of pity that audiences typically feel for her ending.
channeling Jane
But, my imagination wasn’t overflowing with ideas for characters or plot points right off the bat. In the earliest days after my encounter with the random audience member who gave me the idea, I only knew that the play would be a romantic comedy (emphasis on the comedy). I also knew that it would involve at least two characters from Pride and Prejudice: Charlotte and Mr Collins.
Before I could give my imagination the green light to start inventing plot points and characters and themes, I had to face certain realities. Theater is expensive to make and hard to sell. The time and energy it takes to write a play and bring it to life is no small investment. So, before pulling the trigger on writing Charlotte Collins: The Play, I had to ask two very critical questions:
Has it been done before?
Will anybody give a damn?
I got out my shovel and did some digging.
success guaranteed
A well-traversed path.
I quickly discovered I’m far from the first person to play with the idea of continuing Charlotte’s story. There’s a long list of novels featuring Charlotte as the romantic heroine. I wasn’t about to read them all, but a glance through the descriptions revealed a unifying similarity.
Most of the storylines seemed to approach Charlotte’s story from the position that she was unhappy with her choice. Consequently, they all promised to provide some good old fashioned Regency romancing with someone who was not Mr Collins.
To make room for Charlotte’s new romantic interest, some of the authors took the convenient route of killing Mr Collins (by natural causes, or other). Others had been merciful with their pens and let him live. I don’t judge either approach, but I must admit that my knee jerk reaction was to preserve Mr Collins from unnecessary violence. From my point of view, you don’t just throw away a perfectly good comedic character like William Collins.
me deciding not to bump off Mr C
My search also made it clear that I wasn’t alone in wanting to continue Charlotte’s story. There were plenty of Austen lovers out there who wanted to give Charlotte a romantic adventure of her own. And although playwrights like Lauren Gunderson and Margot Melcon have brought multiple Pride and Prejudice sequels to the stage, it didn’t seem like any of them focused exclusively on Charlotte.
The path ahead looked clear. As far as the world wide web knew, no one else had attempted to create a Charlotte-centric romantic comedy for the stage.
Check.
Next, I had to find out if anyone would actually see it.
“Who?”
My love for Charlotte runs deep because I’ve played her. But I don’t recall having any particular love for Charlotte’s character prior to that experience. Before I devoted the time and energy to sketching out plot points and characters, I had to test my idea in the wild to see if anyone would be interested enough to see it.
I don’t normally run my ideas by other people. I could devise a practical-sounding reason for keeping my ideas secret, but the real reason is that most of my ideas are ridiculous, and I don’t need my acquaintances to think I’m more absurd than they already do.
However, every now and then, I get an idea that’s so potent — so inescapably gripping — that I’ll risk public scrutiny by testing the waters with it. Charlotte Collins was one such idea.
feelin' like a daggnabbed ARTISTE
For the next few months, I mentioned my idea to just about anyone who would listen. I would say, “I’m writing a romantic comedy play about Charlotte Collins from Pride and Prejudice,” and then gauge their response.
The reactions to hearing my idea typically fell into three camps, depending on the listener's preexisting knowledge of Pride and Prejudice:
Die hard P&P fans: "I love Charlotte Lucas and I will literally see anything vaguely Regency-esque. Count me in."
Passive P&P fans: "Oh yeah, I remember Charlotte. I guess I'd see that."
Everyone else: Who?
Of course, this is a highly simplified version of how the conversations typically went. Most of the time, I had to explain who Charlotte is and how her character fit into the narrative of Pride and Prejudice. Die-hard fans needed no explaining, naturally. But even some folks who had read the book or seen the film adaptations needed their memories jogged a wee bit to recall Charlotte’s character. I usually ended up having to say something along the lines of, “She’s Lizzy’s best friend who ends up marrying that annoying guy after Lizzy rejects his proposal.” A look of understanding would come over their face, followed by a look of curiosity — as if their brain was silently pondering, “What did happen to that chick after she married that guy?”
The results were in.
My test had made two things clear.
First, it proved there was definitely an audience for my idea. Charlotte’s character had left a stronger impression on Pride and Prejudice fans than I’d anticipated. The people wanted more, and I wanted to give it to them.
Second, my test revealed that if I were to write a play about Charlotte, I had to make it accessible to people who aren’t familiar with Pride and Prejudice. I didn’t want to write a play that only Jane Austen fans would attend and love. We are a mighty fandom, but not robust enough to sustain the life of an entire theatrical production.
Besides, I had a feeling that my connection to Charlotte’s character wasn’t unique to me. I think deep down, most of us feel like a Charlotte. Ordinary. Overlookable. We might give ourselves permission to imagine we’re romantic heroines and heroes like Lizzy and Darcy. But when we step back and face reality, we realize that most of us are pretty average … like Charlotte.
(Maybe even a little annoying … like Mr Collins.)
I decided that if I could lean into Charlotte’s relatability, I would be able to entice more audiences to see her story beyond the immediate Jane Austen fan base. Word of mouth is still a powerful marketing lever in the theater. If Charlotte Collins was going to be successful, I had to write a play that could make an audience member go home to their friends and family, and say, “It doesn’t matter if you care or even know about Pride and Prejudice. You. Will. Love. This. Play.”
Clear for takeoff.
My two critical questions had been answered. No one had written a play about Charlotte Collins before, and there was a small — but not insignificant — demand for it.
Charlotte Collins: The Play was a go.
From the moment I decided to proceed with my plan, I had a sense that this project — unlike so many others I’ve started — was actually going to have a life. As I began jotting down notes on napkins and laying out plot points, I had an unfamiliar sense of assurance that somehow this one was going to make it.
At the time, I was a nobody. Still am. But from the moment I gave myself the green light to write Charlotte Collins, I had a feeling it was going to be worth it. I felt my play would eventually breathe.
That feeling allowed me to actually write it.
Which is irrefutable proof that without my delusions, I wouldn't get anything accomplished.
I was clear for takeoff.
But before Charlotte could have her romantic adventure…
… I had to have one of my own.
Written by: Grace Abele
Editor: Peter Giordano