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It's a story about the horror of seeing catastrophe coming and being able to do nothing to avert it. The survivors lived because of sheer luck, and might just as easily have died. Those who tried to save their lords or lovers or aged parents were ripped away from them by the waters to die alone in the choking mud.

The volcano and the tidal wave are the accident that kills a man in his prime, the sickness that snatches a child from the cradle, the horrifying ravages of age foreshadowing black and final death. Death stalks everyone, every day, like a shadow snapping at their heels. That's what you're writing about.

You know what you're writing. And you're giving some thought to what you're planning to do with the play once it's written. This isn't just about persuading audiences. It's going to be more important than that.

All that remains is to write it.

You dip your pen in the ink, and then blot it and write "The Fall of Atlantis" on the page. After a lengthy pause, you add, "By Osberht."

The words stare up at you, so neatly formed, with so much blank page underneath them. The rest of the play ought to write itself, you feel. Perhaps it would, if you went out and found something to eat and congenial company. No, no, that's not the way.

With an effort, you force yourself to dip the pen. You scratch lines on the page. You scratch them out again. You blot your pen, and then realize you're blotting it on the clean blank page. You swear and scratch out the blot and keep going.

An hour goes by. You've written a couple of pages and managed a couple of lines that you don't entirely hate. You try not to think about how much of the play is still before you. Line by line, that's how you'll do it. Line by line.

You shut yourself in your lodgings. You write until the words all begin to blur together on the page. You steal shamelessly from the old manuscript in which you first tried to tell this story, while hopefully improving it. You throw in effects, for once not worrying about the cost. So you need a tidal wave. And a volcano and a fire. And a live goat onstage. Possibly several live goats. All of those things can be arranged.

It's not enough. You need more inspiration.