characterization. In short, the cave wall pictures Plato mentioned,
hitherto until now dim and elusive flickers, will become flesh and bone
entities within their own right."

Wenceslaus reached back propping a foot against the table containing an
old woodcut with some masking tape and a copy of Stendal's Rouge et le
Noir. I thought of him subconsciously acting out the role of his many
anti-heroes by parading their values through the pages of his many
would-be books. Rather impatiently I moved to counter his studied
expression.

"And what of actual events rooted in your own experience? How will you
give your characters real presence, an allowance to take away from them
unintentional archetypes or woodiness? What are your chances of
breathing life into these shadow forms without some common backdrop
with which to share a basic empathy?"

He continued to maintain his stare, not even breaking the gaze to light
a cigarette or reach for his mug of coffee. He replied with a little
annoyance.

"Words, nothing but smoke screens to conceal a bankruptcy of the
thought process. How on earth do you propose I make love to every woman
alive, explore every crevice of this earth? Surely, you aren't serious
with this mumble about animating characters. I propose to let the
characters speak of real ingredients through the force of actual
events."

"Animation is for cartoons, not serious playwrights. I'm surprised at
you," he went on. "What you are advocating is a bilateral pool of
shared traits. I venture to say such a thing is not only patently
absurd but unnecessary." He had let the coffee grow cold and turned to
it with renewed annoyance.

The wind, it seemed, too, was expressing a little of the afternoon's
short-tempered.

"Pity we live in this climate. All bluster and snow. Hardly the
stuffing from which romantic heroes are made," he said stiffly.

"And what of Tolstoy, London, or Service?" I nearly whined back at him.
"They used lack of glamour in their settings to their advantage.
Primeval landscapes are not only physical but the force behind many a
fanciful mind. That's the artificiality I was concerned with earlier.
Next you will be playing the Gauguin adventurer convinced your lack of
inspiration or ready talent is attributable to March weariness rather
than to personal shortcomings. You will spend all your time searching
for that thatched cottage in picturesque Arly country."

"Let me offer some more unwanted advice,