Gemotions

The first draft of the play was finished. Months of work, of wrestling with characters and plot, lay on the desk. Then, at the playwrights’ workshop, Clara saw the other piece. The same concept, the same themes, eerily similar character archetypes. Her breath hitched.

She sat rigidly in her chair, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She refused to look at the work of the other playwright, no matter how much they pleaded and tried to get her attention. Her own script felt suddenly heavy, useless.

Clara’s lips pressed into a thin line. She would not back down. She would not admit defeat. She would rewrite. She would refine. And her play would be better. It had to be. She would rewrite every single page.