I’ve spent the last few days luxuriating in the possibilities of a name change. All the things it could mean to me.

He stood in front of this class and he said “Playwright, dear friends, is spelled p-l-a-y-w-r-i-g-h-t … that’s ‘w-r-i-g-h-t’ not ‘w-r-i-t-e’ … you see, a play is not written … it is wrought!”. As soon as the words had left his mouth and its corners began to rise in a knowing smile, I was captivated. It felt like the most profoundly correct statement I had ever heard. It was a fundamental realization. It was right. Wright!