Closing Night

I so miss the days when I could sit down at the word processor and put down in words the images I was seeing in my head. Plot and character would introduce themselves to my mind in full lighting and makeup, well rehearsed and ready to perform. I simply took dictation, recording the story they played out for me.

I am beginning to think that my production company has gone bankrupt and all of my players have left me. Did I forget to pay the light bill at the theatre? Did I skip a meeting? Where did they go?

Now, when I sit to write, all I am presented with is an empty stage. No scenery, no costumes, no actors waiting in the wings. The lights are dark and the house is empty, save for the unfinished playbills scattered throughout the aisles.

If only I'd not lost my sense of metaphor, I could explain it.