Writer's Cramp

An Original Thing By: Amy Alls

Lights come up on a member of hotel housekeeping staff center stage. Laney (a young woman between the ages of 21 and 30) peaks from offstage, looks around sneakily and approaches the cleaning lady.

Laney-Excuse me, ma’am?

Housekeeper-Yes, miss?

Laney-I’m with the National Aspiring Writer’s Convention. I accidentally left my access key in my other jeans. Could you please let me in my room?

Housekeeper-Oh, yes miss. No problem.

Housekeeper pulls out her access key and opens the door for Laney.

Laney-Thanks so much.

Laney walks over to some clothes she sees lying on the dresser, pulls her access key out of her own pocket and pretends the key came from the pile of clothes.

Laney-See, there it is! Thank you again for your help.

Housekeeper-Would you like me to clean your room now or---

Laney-Oh no, no…It’s okay. I’m good. Thanks again.

Housekeeper-You’re welcome. Have a nice day.

Housekeeper exits. Laney wanders around the room as if she’s looking for something while rehearsing an important speech.

Laney-“So, I know we’ve only known each other for a short time now, but”—No. That’s not it. “There is something I need to talk to you about regarding”—No. “I think you are an amazing writer. I know I just met you, but”—Damn. This is so difficult! Why does this have to be such a chore? I know—How about, “What would you think of me if I told you that I am in love with yo-”—Crap. I need to start over. Maybe this is a mistake. I might be jumping off a cliff here instead of diving into a pool. “Jack, I know we’ve only just met each other, but I feel like we’ve really bonded over these last few weeks. I have not been shy about pointing out what an amazing writer you are and I can’t wait to read the finished copy of your novel. The rough manuscript alone is pure brilliance. I need to get something out in the open, however, and if I don’t do it soon, I might just explode. Jack, I’m desperately and hopelessly in love with”—

Jack enters, after just hearing his name and notices Laney talking to herself.

Jack-Did someone say my name?

Laney (caught off guard)-Jack! Hi! What are you doing here?

Jack-Well, Lane, this is my hotel room. My question is what are you doing here?

Laney-I was just---Do you have an extra ice bucket? I am PARCHED. It is SO hot in here. Do you feel that?

Jack-Um. No. Can I help you with something? Besides ice buckets? Could I maybe help you remember how you got into my hotel room?

Laney-I’m sorry. I told the housekeeper that this was my room and I lost my key. She let me in. I promise I wasn’t trying to steal anything.

Jack-So, why are you here?

Laney(regaining her focus)-Jack, I need to tell you something. You see, this convention has brought us all together in such a way that—

Jack (thinking he might know what she’s about to say)-Laney, I think I may have overheard some of what you said as I was walking in and I should tell you—

Laney (not really paying attention to the fact that Jack is talking)-Maybe you should sit down for this.

Laney pushes Jack onto the bed and pulls up a chair. She leans in close to him and holds his hand, looking him directly in the eye as if she’s about to say something very serious.

Laney-Jack, I know we’ve only known each other for a short time now, but—

Jack (interrupting and pulling his hand away gently)-Really, Laney. It’s okay. I’ve sensed your feelings, but I’m not—

Laney (interrupting and grabbing his hand back)-Listen to me, Jack. You’re an incredible writer and I haven’t been shy about letting you know that in our workshops—

Jack (frustrated and pulling his hand away again a little less gently, then reaching to put his hands on her shoulders as if to try to shake sense into her)-Laney! I don’t feel that way about—

Laney (interrupting and avoiding Jack’s hands on her shoulders while oblivious to the fact Jack is talking or moving at all)-I’M IN LOVE WITH GREG. There. I said it. I’m desperately and hopelessly head over heels for Greg.

Jack-Greg? Greg who?

Laney-Greg Chamberlain…from Desperate, Angry, Stupid and in Love?

Jack-Greg Cha—Wait. What?

Laney-Your novel. The hero in your novel…I love him.

Jack-Oh, my God. You are walking around my hotel room when I’m not here, rehearsing telling me that you’re in love with a character from my novel?!

Laney-Well, you don’t have to make it sound so stupid. You can’t help whom you fall in love with you know?!

Jack (not sure whether to laugh or get the hell out of there)-Laney, I cannot even begin to express how confused and a little bit terrified I am of you right now.

Laney-Jack, please understand. This is no reflection on you. I think you’re a great guy. But Greg—

Jack-IS A FICTIONAL CHARACTER BORN OF MY PSYCHE!!

Laney-I really didn’t think you’d be jealous. I thought of all people, you would understand.

Jack-Understand what, exactly? That some girl I just met two weeks ago who has had a chance to read my book maybe ONCE, BROKE into MY room and has been apparently, as far as I can tell, breaking down completely while waiting for me to show up, so she can tell me she is IN LOVE with, not only someone she can’t have, but a complete fabrication of someone else’s imagination who DOES NOT EXIST IN REALITY??!!

Laney-I didn’t break in. The maid let me in.

Jack-This is so more-than-nuts than I am prepared to deal with. Laney, I think you should go.

Laney-I am not leaving. Not without Greg.

Jack-I’m sorry, say again?

Laney-I’m taking him with me.

Jack-Laney, this is a joke right? What part of “FICTIONAL CHARACTER” do I have to break down for you?

Laney-Hand him over, Jack. We’re going to be together and that’s all there is to it. I know he wants me just as much as I want him.

Jack-I’m NOT giving you my manuscript. I’m not even finished with it yet. You can buy a copy of the final print in the Spring like everyone else.

Jack goes to his closet and pulls out his manuscript and holds it behind his back.

Laney-I should have known you would be like this.

Laney pulls out an industrial size bottle of Whiteout and reaches for the manuscript Jack is holding.

Laney-If I can’t have him (breaking into tears), no one will.

Jack-Laney, let go!

There’s a bit of a struggle, but Laney manages to pull the manuscript out of Jack’s hands and proceeds to paint the Whiteout over every inch of visible print on the papers, then throws the papers into the trashcan. Jack is suddenly motionless, stunned by what he is witnessing. Laney pulls out a match, lights it and tosses it into the trashcan. Jack is revived immediately as he runs to the trashcan in an effort to stop the destruction of his unfinished masterpiece. As flames rise from the trashcan, Jack, defeated, realizes he is too late.

Jack-NO!! You bitch!!

Laney-I’m sorry, Jack. It had to be this way.

Jack (in tears)-He was mine!! He was mine and you killed him!!

Laney-I knew it. I knew you had feelings for him all along. I knew that was why you were fighting so hard to keep him. It wouldn’t have mattered. Even if I hadn’t destroyed him, he still would have always been mine in the end.

Jack-No. No…My beautiful, wonderful Greg. How could you leave me? I was always good to you. I wrote you, for Christ’s sake—What will I do without you?

Laney-It’s no use, Jackie boy. He’s gone. I don’t think our lives will ever be the same again. (Whisper) Goodbye Greg, my love…

Laney looks on as Jack falls to his knees beside the flaming trashcan.

Lights down.

End.

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