Read scene one of The Manga Flute
Download a free copy of the first scene of The Manga Flute here. If you would like more information about performing The Manga Flute or you'd like to buy a printing copy of the libretto, please contact the author, David Scott Marley.
Princess Pamina in her bedchamber — portrait and backdrop by Megan Willis from the West Edge Opera production of The Manga Flute
The Manga Flute gets raves!
The Manga Flute reviews
- “Superb ... bold, outlandish, delectable entertainment ... [Marley’s] libretto is a thing of wonder” — San Francisco Classical Voice
- “Charming ... delightful ... chief among the pleasures is the sleek virtuosity of Marley’s libretto” — San Francisco Chronicle
- “A poetic and fanciful libretto ... surprising in the scope of its originality” — Repeat Performances
Other Manga Flute links
- “Music News” at San Francisco Classical Voice
Juggling in Handcuffs
So why the title?
Writing a libretto—the book for an opera or a
musical—is the most technically demanding form of
writing I know.
As a rough rule of thumb, if the musical or opera has
spoken dialogue between the musical numbers, the libretto
(counting both sung and spoken words) typically contains
about half as many words as a spoken play of the same
length. And if it's fully sung—no spoken
dialogue—then the number of words is cut roughly in
half again.
So if you're telling your story through song, you need to
find a way to get it across in far fewer words than
you'd use if it were a spoken play. You develop techniques
for speeding up your story. You learn to simplify, to leave
out whatever is not essential. You cut every subplot,
character, scene, speech, word, and even syllable that you
can. You develop ways to make two or three lines do the
work of nine or ten, implying to your audience much more
than you actually take the time to say.
Only it's trickier than that, because sung words are harder
for the audience to catch. So your sentences have to
be simpler and clearer than they would have to be in a
spoken play. Natural stresses and pauses in the words have
to match those in the music. You repeat things more, or say
the same thing several times in different words, to make
sure your important points are made. You rely more on
familiar turns of phrase and tend to shy away from unusual
words and usages, so that the context will help the
audience make out anything they don't hear perfectly.
Only it's still trickier than that, because the words also
have to be easy for the performers to sing on the notes.
Long notes and high notes need open vowels and an avoidance
of hard final consonants. You can't put thick consonant
clusters and other tongue twisters on fast musical phrases.
So not only are you trying to tell a good story in an
engaging way, not only are you trying to do everything in
your story that a good playwright does—set a feeling
of time and place, set a mood, develop believable
characters, develop conflicts, keep your story moving
forward—but you're trying to do all that in half the
words (or fewer) while constrained by all these purely
technical limitations on which words you can use where. And
as deftly as if those constraints weren't there.
If I ever write a book about the craft of libretto writing,
I'm going to call it Juggling in Handcuffs. In the
meantime, this website is a place for me to write about my
writing, promote my work, keep my online journal, and let
friends know what's going on with me.