• DEATH OF A PLAYWRITE Chapter One: Curtains Up

      DEATH OF A PLAYWRIGHT Chapter One: Curtains Up. by Lee A. Whitelock   A thousand plundered blank pages before me; in awe of me. And I saw the taming of the quill, to the shrill of plot unfolding. I plundered, sure. I sacked a bounty of literary greats, libraries at my feet, dictionaries knee deep. Then why my hands tremble? Why my mind wanders? They say greatness hides behind corners, but will greatness lie till morning? Who’s to say? Tremble, again. Assemble, the pain. Remember-the-fame-would-never-remember-my-name! Three years since I meandered my way South; London, and the Great Writers Drought. Doubt- Whether I’ll drink again, plunder again, wonder again, wandering…