That’s it. I’m done. I’ve got nothing more.
(Click on the table)
You expect me to work independently, without you? Like, I can just crawl inside that pea-brain and figure out the words on my own?
(Silence with only breathing)
I know you’re struggling, sitting there with your head in your hands, taking deep sighs expecting some muse to suddenly appear. But, I can’t do this without you! We have to do it together.
Okay… I get it. You’re not paying attention to me because you’ve run out of ideas, you think your writing all sounds the same like some banal-grey-oatmeal-mush of blah! Ya, and maybe you’re even feeling a bit sorry for yourself in your impotence, like some imposter pretending to be a writer, maybe even pretending to a be a teacher – and ya, I know that one hurts the most, but, geez… Get a grip on me and start! Start somewhere! Hell, start anywhere. Start in India on the balcony of some lush palace. Start in Australia in a remote village. Start…
Wait, what? Why would I want to start somewhere that I’ve never been?
(Pause) Because you’ve never been.
(Click from the table)
I guess I could write some kind of a dialogue, but, not one with people – done that already. Maybe…one with an object. Like a pen, and even if it doesn’t feel good, at least I’m writing something different and stretching myself.
Uh huh. Looks like you’re already done.