Martinu paced up and down the stage. He’d only had time to write in between rehearsals, so he didn’t have much time to write his latest piece.
Which, by the way, was to be performed next week.
Need this author say more?
“Sir?” A stage hand peeked out of the prop room. Martinu jumped.
“Hm? What?” he mumbled.
“The director wants to go over your premire.”
“Thank you.” Then an idea struck him. “You there!” he called to the retreating stage hand.
“Yes sir?”
“What are the first six instruments you can see from the spot you are in?”
The stage hand looked rather confused. “Um… an oboe, a piano… two bassoons… a flute… and a giant clarinet.”
“That it?”
“That’s all I can see, sir.”
“Thank you very much. Tell the director I’m tied up at the moment.” Martinu scurried to his podium, notes flying around in his head.