This afternoon, on the 1 train, I had what John Cheever once called a eureka moment. I was thinking about my play, making a list of possible reasons why a character was acting a certain way, and suddenly it all came together, I understood who he was and what he really wanted me to say. I had been forcing him to be one thing, and all this time he had been fighting me, treating me with contempt, as Pinter warned a recalcitrant character would. And I understood why Cheever said there were moments when he wanted to run out and shout his discovery to the world. I wanted to grab every person on the street and madly yell, He loved his sister! He really loved her! I couldn't focus on anything else. I went to the gym, but didn't feel like working out. In the end I skipped all my chores and rushed back home and worked on the play again. I worked on it continuously and only stopped now. It is nearly 11 PM. And I am so exhausted, and grateful, and happy. I want to write till the day I die.