Playwright rarely at loss for words

“Private Fears’’ is perhaps Ayckbourn’s most cinematic play, with more than 50 scenes that overlap and dissolve into each other (Alain Resnais created a 2006 film version). It may also be one of Ayckbourn’s most rueful and melancholic works, telling the interwoven stories of six forlorn Londoners swathed in solitude, fitfully seeking to forge connections, despite fears of disappointment.

Former British Army officer Dan whiles away his days getting sloshed at a hotel bar, to the distress of his long-suffering girlfriend, Nicola. There’s also Nicola’s awkward real estate agent, Stewart, and his lovelorn sister, Imogen, who has turned to personal ads to find companionship and hides her largely unsuccessful encounters from her brother. Stewart seems smitten with his office co-worker, the enigmatic Charlotte, a deeply religious woman who may have a scandalous secret past in porn. Meanwhile, Charlotte is helping the sad-eyed Ambrose, Dan’s barkeep, care for his belligerent, bed-ridden father. But that’s not all she may be up to.

The 70-year-old Ayckbourn took time away from his hectic schedule recently to answer some questions via e-mail.

Q. You’ve written nearly a play a year, and sometimes two or three, over the past five decades. How have you been able to maintain such a pace? You must write nonstop.

A. The secret is for the writer to run their own theater. Every year, while I was artistic director here [at the Stephen Joseph Theatre in Scarborough, England], I would ask myself for a play and, later, announce it in the schedules. Which left me very little choice than to write the thing.

Q. How do you dream up so many story ideas and then have the stamina to execute them?

A. The initial ideas, as I always say, are the one ingredient you can’t plan for. Fortunately over the years, I’ve rarely been short of ideas - generally there’s one or two swimming around in my head. Often they’re germs or fragments waiting to fertilize with each other. As soon as two or three are gathered together, I know I’ve got a play.

Q. What was your inspiration for “Private Fears in Public Places’’?

A. I’ve always been fascinated by the thought that most of us are small part players in other people’s lives, whilst conversely leading players in a handful of people’s lives, usually our friends’ and family’s. I wanted to give an audience a chance to observe this phenomenon. For example, the character of Ambrose is initially just “a barman,’’ and only later are we privileged to learn more about him. But for the incurious Dan, Ambrose remains simply a barman.

Q. “Private Fears in Public Places’’ has a more somber undercurrent than some of your previous plays. Do you agree?

A. There are earlier dark moments in some of the previous ones. But they all came together in this one.

Q. Zeitgeist Stage artistic director David Miller says he relishes the way your dialogue sounds like real conversation and the humor does not feel forced, even when you bring the action to heightened, farcical levels.

A. That’s the way I write. I don’t self-consciously try and write things with a “funny’’ slant. All my characters are generally doing their very serious best - my heart goes out to them. Sadly, their best is often not quite good enough. Besides, I’m terrible at telling jokes, let alone writing them.

Q. Do you think the play is ultimately hopeful regarding human connection?

A. It’s the end of a chapter for most of [the characters]. There’s a hint of a new chapter for some, just around the corner, which may lead to sunnier times. Who knows? A comedy is a tragedy interrupted, and vice versa. Depends where you choose to stop the narrative. Good writing should always give a sense that A) things have happened before we set out on page one, and B) when we reach the final page, that life goes on.

Q. Miller says that the good girl/bad girl dichotomy of Charlotte has been one of the most challenging aspects of the play. She’s a devout Christian woman who may have a past in erotic dancing or the porn industry. Can you talk about the conception of this enigmatic character?

A. I hate being too precise about what goes on inside Charlotte. After all, she’s never too explicit about herself. But the clues are there. Her strict religious upbringing, a sense of sin . . . belief that evil is in all of us . . . that the battle wages inside us all . . . etc. I don’t think she really knows herself. She’s blinded by strong belief.

Q. You’ve called “Private Fears’’ your most cinematic play. Why, and how has film influenced your work?

A. I spent my childhood in cinemas, rarely theaters. I had an innate, instinctive fascination with theater as an idea (though I seldom went to one as a child). On the other hand, I adored movies (and went to one every second of every school holiday), but I had absolutely no interest in getting involved with them and still don’t. I think, possibly, it might be that the more you practice something, in my case theater, the more you know about it, and the more that destroys the magic. Whereas not having the slightest technical clue about how movies are made, that’s still totally magic as far as I’m concerned.

Q. You say you’ve been observing people since age 4, when you would sit in the corner of rooms as a “tiny invisible war correspondent, silent and inwardly digesting.’’ Do you think an ear for subtext is in part why you became a playwright?

A. Undoubtedly. All writers must have lonely, slightly neglected childhoods; it’s a requirement of the job. The non-writers are too busy talking to listen. Which reminds me, I must shut up, now. Thanks for listening.