The characters are talking and I am trying to keep up. My fingers fly across the keyboard in a frantic effort to capture their words before they are forgotten. The folks in this play were born several years ago. They stepped onto the paper, living out their lives in a storm of letters, commas, quotes and periods. And then they stopped talking.
You can't make them talk. Can't force them to open their mouths. When they are silent, you just have to wait. And wait. And wait. And then they start talking again. Now. Now....and I am listening. My fingers fly across the keyboard, not wanting to drop a word of their existence.
I am listening. And I write. And I write. And I write. And write. Finally.
