2.  Unity of Character

Unity of character does not mean unity of subject—­note the variety of subjects treated in “The German Senator”—­but, rather, the singleness of impression that a monologue gives of the “character” who delivers it, or is the hero of it.

The German Senator, himself, is a politician “spouting,” in a perfectly illogical, broken-English stump speech, about the condition of the country and the reason why things are so bad.  Never once do the various subjects stray far beyond their connection with the country’s deplorable condition and always they come back to it.  Furthermore, not one of the observations is about anything that a politician of his mental calibre would not make.  Also the construction of every sentence is in character.  This example is, of course, ideal, and the precision of its unity of character one of the great elements of a great monologue.

Next to humor, unity of character is the most important requirement of the monologue.  Never choose a subject, or write a joke, that does not fit the character delivering the monologue.  In other words, if you are writing a pure monologue, do not, just because it is humorous, drag in a gag [1] or a point [2] that is not in character or that does not fit the subject.  Make every turn of phrase and every word fit not only the character but also the subject.

[1] A gag is the vaudeville term for any joke or pun.

[2] A point is the laugh-line of a gag, or the funny observation of a monologue.

3.  Compression

We have long heard that “brevity is the soul of wit,” and certainly we realize the truth in a hazy sort of way, but the monologue writer should make brevity his law and seven of his ten commandments of writing.  Frank Fogarty, who writes his own gags and delivers them in his own rapid, inimitable way, said to me: 

“The single thing I work to attain in any gag is brevity.  I never use an ornamental word, I use the shortest word I can and I tell a gag in the fewest words possible.  If you can cut out one word from any of my gags and not destroy it, I’ll give you five dollars, and it’ll be worth fifty to me to lose it.  “You can kill the whole point of a gag by merely an unnecessary word.  For instance, let us suppose the point of a gag is ‘and he put the glass there’; well, you won’t get a laugh if you say, ’and then he picked the glass up and put it there.’  Only a few words more—­but words are costly.

“Take another example.  Here’s one of my best gags, a sure-fire laugh if told this way: 

“O’Brien was engaged by a farmer to milk cows and do chores.  There were a hundred and fifty cows, and three men did the milking.  It was hard work, but the farmer was a kind-hearted, progressive man, so when he went to town and saw some milking-stools he bought three and gave ’em to the men to sit down on while at work.  The other two men came back delighted, but not O’Brien.  At last he appeared, all cut-up, and holding one leg of the stool.