A really interesting article by an author who found his words and ideas incorporated into a Broadway play, and began to see that they weren't necessarily "his" words at all.
I found it fascinating that what Lewis felt wronged about was more what was made up than what wasn't -- she wasn't complaining about her life being taken, in the end, but that it hadn't been taken enough. I agree that the playwright probably should have credited her inspiration and made clear that various events were made up. But I also found it fascinating that the playwright -- not coincidentally a woman -- seemed so devastated by Lewis's reaction. It seems likely to me that many more male artists than female artists would tell someone whose life they'd mined for inspiration to suck it up, because that's how art is made.
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