Suddenly, I had an idea. I raced to my whiteboard and began to diagram, scribbling furiously. Wipe, wipe, wipe. This was getting me nowhere. Better still, a tuna sandwich.
Fish is, after all, 'brain' food.
So it was that my wife, Lesley, found me at the kitchen table, munching thoughtfully away, when she came home from the supermarket. Always her happy, optimistic self, she just had to ask how I was coming along with my play. She somehow overlooked the fact that would have made her Marilyn Monroe. I've been stuck for weeks. By now, I should have pages and pages of riveting dialogue filled with imagery, pathos and symbolism.