Later the same day, Wright will read from his work at 8 p.m.

One hand snakes loose from it's box.and begins to write.ALBANY, NY () (readMedia)- Doug Wright, playwright of Quills, War Paint, and the Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award winning one-person play, I Am My Own Wife, will hold a seminar at 4:15 p.m. In the last scene, the boxes containing the body parts of the Marquis tremble with pleasure. Wracked by guilt, the once humane but now murderous and sexually deviant Abbe is committed to his own asylum where he finds himself crying out for a paper and pen with which to record his own newly arisen perversions. A riot ensues, nearly destroying the asylum, and as the second act unfolds, the Abbe is driven to increasingly desperate acts to silence the Marquis: the removal of his hands, feet, genitals, and eventually his beheading. Undaunted, the Marquis devises a fantastic plan to whisper his stories from lunatic to lunatic, until Madeleine can pen them down - but the last lunatic, in whose cell Madeleine crouches, mutilates and kills the girl in response to the Marquis' grisly tale. Driven to a fury, the Abbe strips bare the Marquis and his cell, leaving nothing but stone and straw. Immediately, the Abbe bars the girl from seeing the Marquis, but ever resourceful, the Marquis pens his stories on his bedclothes in wine, blood and worse. The source? A lust young seamstress named Madeleine has been smuggling material out of the asylum. After confiscating the Marquis' quills and paper, the Abbe de Coulmier is surprised to find lascivious new stories circulating in public. Furious that her husband's sadomasochistic pornography has tarnished her reputation, she offers the Doctor any amount of money, if only her husband can be kept from writing. Here's the synopsis found on the back of this edition of the play (Since it's not included above):ĭoctor Royer-Collard, head of Charenton Asylum, is visited by Renee Pelagie, wife of the asylum's most notorious inmate, the Marquis de Sade. Recommended to all non-anally retentive intellectuals with a sense of humour. I could read this play everyday of my life, and still that would not be enough.

Quills by doug wright