Inspiration From Within

von Marcus Krug

You’re almost finished with the play you’re working on. However, your female lead character just refuses to kill herself with a dagger she is scripted to find in her family’s tomb, on the dead Romeo who had killed himself with poison.

“I don’t want to die yet, Friar Laurence!” she says.

“That’s good, my girl!” he says, “Come with me then. I’ll bring you somewhere safe!”

“Yes, I’m coming!” she says, “But I need to talk to him first! Wait for me, please!”

“To whom do you wish to talk?” Friar Laurence says.

“To the guy who’s responsible for this ludicrous play here.” she says.

*

“Rosaline, please speak your mind, then!” you say, your voice is coming from the off, and you go on, “What deters you from killing yourself with the dagger I specifically placed in the sheath on Romeo’s belt for that very purpose? If there is a dagger mentioned in a story, the dagger must be used. Future generations will refer to this as ‘Shakespeare’s Dagger’, believe me!”

“You see, William …” she interrupts herself, “… you are William Shakespeare, are you not?! Because there is quite a handful of people who believe that you’re a talentless drunk and that someone else writes for you?!”

“Please, call me William, my dear, that will do.” you say, then you take a sip from a glass of wine, ignoring her question.

“Okay, then … you see, after I followed your script and took the sleeping potion, Friar Laurence was instructed to give me, I’ve had a minute or two to think about things, while I was asleep for forty-two hours.”

“You mean, I shouldn’t have mentioned the dagger, right?!”

“For one thing, yes. But not only limited to the bloody dagger! Don’t you see, your whole story is ridiculous!”

“What do you mean?”, you say, and another gulp of wine goes down your throat.

“Well, for starters; in a course of roughly four days you kill off six characters in your story, including myself. And just for you to understand, I’m not going to go along with this.”

“I’ve been busy with my sonnets and other plays, and hence I borrowed from Matteo Bandello’s novellas.”

“‘Been busy’, my arse! Stop the glorification of busy, will you?! While borrowing, didn’t you think for one moment that changing the plot, or the timeline would make things more plausible?”

“Rosaline, in case you might have forgotten about the very important fact that I’m the famous playwright here. And you just happen to be a tragic figure in one of my many very successful plays. You’re just a figment of my imagination. I can do to you whatever pleases me.”

She’s perplexed, and you go on, anyway.

“I could write you into a rape scene with a paedophile.” you smirk in smug complacency in the dark, and she can feel it.

“See, that’s the other thing that bothers me very much.” she says, “You made me ‘not even fourteen’ in your play. And Romeo? How old is he anyway? I mean, he comes to our family’s masked ball to see his love interest, my cousin Juliet, who is much older than me and then falls madly in love with me? And at the same time, I lose myself over him, as well. How is this even possible?”

“Ingenuity in its purest form, my dearest Rosaline, don’t you think?!” is the most self-flattering thing you can say.

“Well, to be frank with you, I find it utterly pathetic! But I must admit that I feel quite pleased when this lovesick puppy appears under my balcony.” she says.

“And then the two of you exchange vows of love and agree to get married the next day. That’s so powerful!”

“It’s anything but powerful! I only go along with it, because he is so cute down there under the balcony, and I’m required by the circumstances to be a woman whose is woven out of very emotional fabric.” she just mocks you, and goes on in the same ironic voice, “And you’ve got to have balls if you do something like this?! This will inspire generations of young men to propose!”

“Exactly my thought, Rosaline! You have to leave something behind, in order not to be forgotten!”

“I like the secret marriage part, only because it’s some revolt against the patriarch, Capulet, my father. That’s the only reason why I’m in. He wants to marry me to Paris. Paris, can you imagine, William? … Of course, you can! You made the whole thing up.” she says.

“See, I like the way you think. It’s almost like I was saying it. … Which, in fact, is true because you’re just a formidable product of my boundless creativity!” you say.

“But I’m not going to kill myself over someone I just met three days ago. I mean, he’s a nice guy and all, but seriously?! No!”

“Rosaline, you see, this is supposed to be a tragedy. And the death of a main character is always perceived as very tragic. I … the story needs you dead, Rosaline.”

“I don’t know about your audience out there in the Globe every night, but I’m having a hard time suspending my disbelief here. “

“Rosaline, I assure you, the audience will love it. Trust me!”

“Okay, William, just think about this here: A thirteen-year-old girl wakes up in the family tomb, finds her older husband poisoned on the floor. Next to him there is another dead guy, the man her father wants her to marry. And then you believe that she is going to stab herself to death? If you ask me, I’d just walk away from this messed up shit.”

“Rosaline, you can’t just walk away from my story! Not so close to the end, anyway! What am I supposed to do without you?”

“I don’t know, you’re the gifted genius playwright oozing buckets of creativity, are you not?! But if you ask me, I’d consider Juliet. The last time I spoke to her, she was dying to get a female lead in one of your plays. I think it’s about time for her.” she says.

“This sounds like a way out. But the billboards all over town read ‘Romeo & Rosaline’ already.” you’re having a whinge here.

“No, William, no! ‘Romeo & Juliet’ has much better ring to it, believe me.” she says, because she means it.

“Uh-huh, you don’t say…” is all you say. Then your steps clear away in the dark.

*

Someone gives a little cough in the corner. Rosaline turns around and look.

“Ah, Friar Laurence, I think I’m done here. We can go now, when you’re ready.” she says.

“As you wish.” the Friar says, and the two of them leave the scene.