A chronicle of the misadventures of a would be writer

Sunday, June 19, 2011

From the Diary of Mrs Shakespeare

Bill’s latest screenplay is apparently brilliant; has to be, Chris didn’t seem too happy about it. He says Universal Studios are a sucker for lapping it up like this. But I am sure it’s great, his screenplays always are. He has such a way with words.
Well I should know; I fell for him now didn’t I. I’d been warned and scorned at. He was so much younger, but then again he did have a way with words.
He would charm me with his words and I’d let him. Oh what a fool I had been but what was I to do: he had such a way with words. Such a way that he had me knocked up in six months. And alas all that scorn and all the warnings and for all his way with words, marry me he had to. But such a way with words he had, that he had me believing. He told me his talents needed him to be in the city, his creativity needed the space to grow, and he needed to go. He would miss me, but I had to stay back. It was best for our little Susanna. I agreed.
He was right. All his screenplays have been successes. You can guess by the new girl in his arm every week. (They aren’t surely with him for his looks and they are all too dumb for his way with words). Maybe he’s good because he saved all his human insights and empathy for his screenplays. And there is also his way with words. It always got him out of our arguments. But then again it was his lack of originality that started them in the first place. He never could come up with an excuse ever, the sheer brilliance of which would make me forgive him.
 Originality, well now that’s something I had in the marriage. I may not turn a word like he does, but I sure can turn a story. How else do you think I got him to pay child support for Hamnet and Judith, when he wasn’t even around at that time.

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