That part of the play is probably more real than fiction.
How does one explain the hours one is cloistered in his room, whipping up the imagination? And, of course, you can't always be expected to come up with something to show them, for God's sake!
I've been through this spate of interviews after Maria's Room, and everyone keeps marvelling at how many different things I'm working on. It's true: there are reviews, translations, a novel, a short story, and two other novels in the back-burner.
Problem is, there are so many days when nothing happens, and I face the night with a sigh. The fact that I'm sitting before the computer screen looking busy doesn't translate into copious outflow. Since there's no one to answer to (except for three deadly looking deadlines), I keep smiling and carrying on.
Ah, a writer's life's not so easy after all!