I checked the brief on my laptop. It said to write a short play, that was it. No hints as to theme, character or setting. So where to begin?
I looked down at my pen, resting idly against the crisp, blank page. It was a fine little pen, curving at the sides and golden on top. That was where I would begin.
Lady Mayfeather, a bright, well-educated young woman in one of those more southern of the United States. She plays tennis, chess and the violin, much to the amusement of her two sisters.
They, like my other pens, are more sober and reserved. They have chocolate brown hair, while hers is brilliant blonde. I think this has the beginning of a good story. Already words cover the page in strong, black ink.
Strong and dark like Lady Mayfeather’s dashing love interest, perhaps. He could be an officer in the cavalry or a fearsome blockade-runner.
I check my brief again, just to be sure. Write a short play and email it as a word document.
I stabbed my pen through the laptop screen. In hindsight, it was an overly dramatic end to the story.