T-minus one and a half hours before the workshop for your in-progress musical begins. You are sitting in the corner of the room (the floor is better than chairs), in the space between two large windows so the lighting is abundant but not overwhelming. Your knees are bent and your notebook, packed completely with pieces of this show, is placed on top of them as you scribble away.

Two songs and a pretty important scene between the two main characters. That’s all you’re missing. The producer said those needed to be finished by the end of the workshop so that the people in the cast could sight read and get it out of the way. You’ve been up since 5:00 in the morning yesterday working on it. It’s like your brain is stuck — like you will never be able to ground it out of your soul and onto the paper.

Being a teenage prodigy is terrible. It had always been your dream to be a writer/director/actor, but you didn’t expect it to happen this early. And this fast, too…

Mike Faist walks in, ridiculously early as always because he wants to practice for the big day. He’s always extremely goal-oriented and focused on success. He’s playing the lead role and he wants to ensure he keeps the part in such a wonderful project. He smiles a little when he sees you sitting in the corner, taking his bag off his shoulder and setting it down against the far wall.

“Hey,” I greets you. “You’re here super early. Is everything okay?”

Mike didn’t know how to feel about the fact that you were so good at what you did this early in your life. It was phenomenal, that was for sure.